Jonathan’s POV

 

“I’m walking away from you like you walked away from me.” Her words repeated over and over in my head until the only thing I could hear was, “You walked away from me.” What cuts deepest is, she’s not wrong. I did walk away from her, and I did it with ease. I didn’t think about the impact it would have on her, my family, or my friends for that matter. I made the decision, and I did it. This is what I deserve. I don’t deserve her, I made it very clear to Camilla when I went back to Turkey, that us, our relationship was not a priority to me. Why would she want to see me or hear anything I have to say?

I stood there, debating if I should turn around and leave but before I knew it, I was standing outside her apartment door. The last conversation I had in therapy with Mahoganie plays in my head as I knock on Camilla’s door.

“You must understand, Jonathan, when you left you sent a clear signal saying, ‘I don’t need or want you.’ Now that may not be the case now but at the time it was. You need to give her space and when you do decide to make contact, start slow, perhaps send her flowers, or leave love notes but don’t get in her space. She will come to you when she is ready.” Mahoganie smiles warmly at me. 

I’m doing the exact opposite of what Mahoganie said. Camilla wasn’t ready and I didn’t have the right to be here. But I couldn’t leave; I was chained to the spot. Good or bad, I was going to speak to her. I knock on her door and for a moment I lose my nerve. Turning to leave.

“You can do this,” I tell myself, inhaling a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

I hear Camilla’s door open and the light from her hallway brightens the space up around me. My heart immediately begins thumping hard in my chest and my stomach fills with butterflies the moment I turn around and see her. She’s really here, she’s really standing in front of me. After all these months, she’s here, with me. I can feel the stupid smile on my face getting bigger and bigger with every moment that passes but then I see something that causes the butterflies to quieten and my heart to slow and ache. Camilla’s smile drops and the sparkle in her eyes disappears, replaced by sadness and anger. Before I get a word out, she slams the door in my face.

“Fuck,” I breath out, running my hands through my hair.

Do I knock again? I think to myself.

“I’m doing it. I came this far, no turning back now,” I hype myself up, reaching to knock again.

I’m stopped in my tracks by the sound of rummaging? Leaning in closer to see if I could make out what she was doing, she opened her door again and I was hit with a cold presence and a strong scent of – Lavender?

Every word Camilla spoke was like a thousand cuts to my heart. Every word was filled with pain, anger, overwhelming sadness, and pure frustration. I did myself no favours by trying to defend my actions. It went against everything I had spent months working on in therapy. This entire situation was my fault. She was right, but I wasn’t going to give up. Camilla is my entire world, and my heart wouldn’t let me leave her even if this moment didn’t go smoothly. I was going to keep fighting.

Hearing Camilla break behind her door, killed me. She was so close, but I couldn’t touch her, I couldn’t hold her, comfort her, or make the pain go away. I hated that every tear that fell from her eyes was because of me.

“Camilla, I’m here and I’m not giving up on us. Do you hear me?” It was all I could muster as I too, fought back my own tears.

She didn’t respond and I didn’t need her to. I sat down and leaned against her door. If I had to stay here all night to prove I wasn’t going to give up, then that’s exactly what I was going to do.

 

The next morning

 

“I think you need this more than I do, boss,” a voice says from above me.

Slowly prying my eyes open, I try to adjust to the beaming sun that’s threatening to burn my retinas out. I can almost make out the silhouette of a man but he’s still out of focus. Giving my eyes a rough rub, I pull myself up off the floor, smoothing over my hair and clothes.

“Jonathan?” He asks, offering me his cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I look at him suspiciously.

“Oh, shit, sorry boss. I’m Dean. Dean Knight.” He offers his other free hand to me.

“Hi,” I shake his hand wearily, looking him over.

I spot the FDNY insignia on the left side of his shirt and the distinct pants they wear. We’ve probably worked together at some point and that’s how he knows me.

“Here,” he hands me his coffee.

“Thanks,” I reply, taking the coffee and sipping it. “That’s a good cup of joe,” I exhale, feeling it waking my entire body up.

“Rough sleep?” Dean asks, leaning against Camilla’s door frame.

“I’ve slept in worse places,” I chuckle, sipping on my coffee.

“I can imagine,” he chuckles.

“I should get out of your way. I’m sure you’re busy today.”

“Oh, I’m not here for work. I’m here to see my girl.” He gestures to Camilla’s door.

“Sorr-“

Camilla cuts the conversation off dead by opening her door suddenly and yanking Dean inside her apartment.

 

Camilla’s POV

 

“Dang! Go easy, darlin. I mean, I’m all for the rough stuff but let a man eat before you get physical.” Dean chuckles from beside me.

“Shhhh, you idiot!” I snap at him as I take my socks off and carefully balance myself on the tips of my toes. “I’m trying to see if Jonathan has left.”

“I know, why don’t you go out there and talk to him,” Dean asks sarcastically.

“Because…” I turn to Dean. “Shut up, that’s why.”

“I’m hungry. You keep being weird and I’ll warm up our muffins.” Dean throws over his shoulder as he strolls off down the hall. “And don’t take too long otherwise your hot chocolate will go cold.

“You’ll go cold,” I mutter under my breath as I turn my attention back to Jonathan who is still outside my door. He reaches to knock, and I drop down onto my feet waiting for it, but nothing comes.

Why didn’t he knock? I think to myself.

“Pfft, I didn’t want him to anyway,” I say quietly to myself, rolling my eyes.

Yes, you do! Shut it! My inner voice snaps back.

“UUUUUGH!” I huff out as I balance back up on my tip toes and peer through my peephole.

He’s gone. Dropping back down onto my feet I stand there, staring at my door, gnawing on the end of my thumb. After crying to the point of wanting to puke last night, I dragged myself to bed and curled up with Pickle. I was angry when I closed my eyes and when I opened them this morning, I was still angry but now that he has left, now that the space he was in is empty I feel – numb.

Pickle comes up beside me and plonks herself down looking at the door while purring.

“Hey, Pick,” I lean down and pick her up. “What should we do, hmmm?” I ask her as I lay her on her back and walk down the hall towards my kitchen.

Pickle looks up at me and nudges my hand to her belly.

“Alright, alright Ms. Sassy pants. No more heavy talk just pats,” I concede.

Dean is busying himself with my microwave as we get closer. Pickle sees he’s there, near her bowl and wriggles out of my arms, hisses then struts off to her litter box.

“You give her the literal shits,” I joke, leaning up against the kitchen door frame.

“The feelings mutual, I can assure you,” Dean chuckles as he plates up our muffins, handing me mine.

“Oh, and let’s not forget your hot chocolate,” Dean shoots me a cheeky wink. “So, wanna talk about what happened with you two last night?” He asks, leaning up against the kitchen counter.

“Not really,” I take a sip of my drink, before turning and heading to my living room.

“I won’t press you but for the record, that man is hurting,” he says as he follows behind me.

“Did he say that?” I ask, sitting down on my couch, placing my muffin and drink down on the table in front of me.

“He didn’t have to, darlin. I could see it,” Dean replies, sitting down in my armchair.

I let out a long sigh, slouching back on my couch. One part of me wants him to hurt, wants him to feel the way he made me feel all those months ago but another part of me loves him for all his flaws and wants to just forget what happened and move on with him. I’m so fucking confused.

“I reckon if you go now, you can catch him before he gets to the end of the street.” Dean smiles at me as takes a bite of his muffin. “But,” he says with his mouthful, “if you do, your muffin is mine.”

“Of course, it is,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“Just letting you know so I don’t get a mouthful when you get back.”

“Leave my hot chocolate alone and you’ll live,” I pointed at him in warning.

“I’d never!” Dean looks at me offended.

“Uh huh,” I roll my eyes at him. “I won’t be long, don’t piss my cat off while I’m gone.”

“No promises, darlin.”

I shake my head at him before I dart off to my door, slip on my flip flops, open my door and sprint down the stairs and out my apartment building doors. I use the elevation to get a better view of who’s on the street. Looking both ways, I spot Jonathan just a few feet from the corner, talking on his phone. Taking two steps at a time, I take off down the street towards him, dodging people, dogs and the mailman in the process. As I get closer to him, I call out, “JONATHAN! WAIT!”

He stops in his tracks, turns to me quickly, hanging up his phone. Now only a few feet from him he walks towards me meeting me halfway.

“Camilla! Are you ok? Did something happen?” Jonathan asks, looking me over for any injuries.

“No,” I puff out. “No. I’m fine,” I pant, leaning forward resting my hands on the top of my knees.

“Let me get you some water.”

“No! No, I’m fine honestly.” I stand abruptly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, thank you,” I smile at him.

“Ok.” He smiles back.

“I,” I pause for a moment. “I’m sorry for what I said last night.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should have approached this situation between us the way Mahoganie suggested.”

“Mahoganie?” I furrow my brows at him, confused.

The moment he begins to answer my mind blocks it out and all I can see is his mouth moving. Questions begin to race through my mind. Mahoganie, is she a friend? Think Camilla, think. Did he ever mention a Mahoganie before the accident? No, right? I’m not forgetting anything – right? Then the worst thought crosses my mind – Has he slept with her? I feel the pang of jealousy hit my chest at the thought that there was, or worst yet, is someone else. In typical Jonathan style he notices I’m lost in my thoughts.

“Camilla, are you ok?” Jonathan catches my gaze, bringing me back to the now.

“Sorry, yes, I’m fine.” I smile at him. “You were saying?”

“Mahoganie is my therapist. I’ve been seeing her since I got back.”

Therapist, ya jealous bitch! My inner voice scolds.

“Oh, right,” I replied awkwardly.

“Are you sure you’re, ok?” He looks at me with concern.

“I am,” I reassure him.

He smiles at me briefly before we fall into an awkward silence.

“I don’t want you to stop trying but I,” I say a little too loudly.

“Need space?” Jonathan finishes my thought.

“Yes. Space. It’s not forever but I just need to process all of this.” My eyes drop to the ground.

“However long you need, Camilla. I’ll wait, ok?”

“I missed you, Jonathan. So much.” I look up at him.

“I missed you too, Camilla.” A smile spreads across his beautiful face.

“Is my Jonathan still in there, somewhere?” I reach up, cupping the side of his face.

Jonathan leans into my hand, he’s looking at me the way he used to before all this hurt happened between us.

Art by @dragon_and_direwolf

“I am,” Jonathan replies, his hands resting lightly on my waist.

Feeling his hands on my body sends shivers up my spin. The spark that was between us is still very much there and for a moment I allow myself to enjoy it. I had forgotten how much I’d craved his touch.

“That’s all I needed to know,” I smile nervously, pulling my hand away. “We’ll talk, I promise.”

“Ok,” Jonathan nods, dropping his hands from my waist.

“Ok, well, I guess I’ll talk to you later then.” I step back.

“Yeah, you will,” He replies, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“K, bye,” I blurt out, turning and sprinting back to my apartment.

I’m not in my door for more than two seconds before I hear Dean and Pickle having it out in the living room.

“I leave for five minutes, and the place goes to shit,” I sigh under my breath, rolling my eyes.

Rounding the corner, I see Dean standing in front of my armchair holding a pillow as Pickle hisses at him like her life depends on it.

“I told you not to piss Pickle off,” I push past him and scoop Pickle up. “What did he do, Pick?” I stare daggers at him.

“I didn’t do anything, I got up to put my plate in the dishwasher and when I got back, she was on the chair, refusing to move.”

“That’s because this is her chair.” I place her back on the chair. “Go sit in that one,” I point over to the other armchair behind us.

Dean throws the pillow on the couch and heads for the other armchair, sitting in it like a scolded child.

“Are we good, kids?” I ask, looking between Pickle and Dean.

Pickle turns around a few times and then curls up, falling asleep. Dean just rolls his eyes and begins digging through his pant pockets.

“How did it go with Jonathan?” He asks, patting himself down.

“Good, I think,” I sit down on my couch.

“You think?” He looks at me curiously.

“Well, I told him I need time and he was ok with that but I dunno, it just got a little,” I take a breath. “Awkward.”

“What do you mea- AH! There you are!” He announces, jumping up from the chair with a beaming smile.

“What’s happening right now?”

“For the first time in FDNY history, us fiery’s have been invited to the NYPD Annual Charity Gala at Gotham Hall,” he says proudly.

“Wow, look at you moving up in the world,” I smirk at him, snatching the invitation from his hand.

“I mean, how could they not invite me,” Dean gestures up and his body.

“The invited ALL of the FDNY. Not just you.” I roll my eyes, looking over the invite.

“Don’t remind me,” Dean huffs, sitting down beside me.

“Oouuu, it says, “Dean Knight & partner.” Who’s the lucky lady?”

“You.”

“Me, really?” I look at him, shocked.

“Of course, why not?” Dean looks at me confused.

“I dunno, I just assume-“

Dean cuts me off. “Well, darlin, you assumed wrong.”

“It’s the cutting me off for me,” I knock my arm off his. “Besides when is this ‘Gala’?”

“Nezz Saturdaaaay,” Dean mumbles out.

“What did you say?” I look over at him.

“It’s next Saturday.”

“DEAN!” I shout at him, pushing him off the couch.

“Ow! Jesus! So abusive!” He groans, rubbing his elbow. “And sorry not sorry,” he smiles at me meekly.

“How long have you known?”

“I got it two months ago, BUT, BUT in my defence, it was sent to my old address,” Dean puts his hands up in front of his face.

“UUUUGH!” I growl.

“Is that a, yes?” I hear Dean ask quietly as he pulls himself up off the floor.

“Yes,” I groan.

“Awesome! I promise it’ll be a good night,” He smiles down at me.

“Bloody better be,” I roll my eyes at him as I look at the invitation over again. “It’s formal attire. I’m going to have to go shopping ASAP.” I sigh in frustration.

“Thank you, darlin. I appreciate you.” He leans over, kissing the top of my head.

“Uh huh. What’s the other surprise you have for me?” I quickly change the subject before I push his arse back off the couch.

“You are now looking at the new Chief Training Officer for the FDNY.” He straightens his shoulders and grins from ear to ear.

While Dean was at Maplewood, he was looking at other things he could do in the FDNY that wouldn’t have him running into burning buildings. Although Dean had done a lot of therapy in the four and half months he’d been at Maplewood, his PTSD was still very present. He needed something that was as far away from active duty as he could find. So, when a position for a Chief Training Officer came available it was like a sign sent from heaven. He couldn’t apply while he was still in Maplewood because they needed him there in person to complete the assessments. The moment he left, settled into his new apartment with his brother, he immediately began the process. When I say, “He” I mean I pushed his arse to start the process. He’s too humble for his own good!

“STOP!” I shove him hard. “Really?”

“Ooww,” Dean groans as he lies on the floor. “Did you know there are buttons under your couch?”

“SHUT UP!” You really got the position?” I kick the side of his foot.

“Yes, I really got the job,” He beams at me, sitting up and resting his arms between the couch and table.

I can see the pride in his eyes as he says those words.

“I knew it!” I lurch forward and wrap my arms around him.

“I know you did and thank you for pushing me to do this, darlin.” He pulls back and smiles at me.

“You’re so welcome, Deany panini,” I wink at him.

“Deany, what?”

“You heard me,” I reply, pulling myself back up onto my couch.

“Listen,” he says, folding his legs. “You can call me absolutely anything but not – that.”

“Aww it’s cute you think you have a choice,” I reply sarcastically. “Now, Chief Knight, shouldn’t you be at work grilling some poor new recruits?”

“SHIT! What’s the time?” He springs up from the floor.

“It’s 8:30am.”

“FUCK! I’m twenty minutes late! Gotta go darlin.” He leans down and kisses my forehead “Text ya later!” He calls over his shoulder as he darts off down the hall and out the door.

“That man.” I smirk, looking over at Pickle.

After Dean left, I finished my hot chocolate and what was left of my muffin, brushed my hair and teeth, got dressed and called Emir. I told him about Jonathan showing up last night and Emir explained what had been going on while I was at Maplewood. I was surprised but it made me happy to know that he was honest with his intentions, and it gave me more hope for us than ever. I will say, hearing that Emir hit his brother bothered me but I knew it came from a place of love and it was months ago. What can ya do? Once I was done chatting to Emir, I bundled up Pickle, the many, many manuscripts that had piled up while I was away and headed over to Get Roasted.

Me and Pickle sat in a quiet corner of the café and got to work. Kay would come over and chat when she could making sure myself and Pickle had plenty to eat and drink. Pickle was so good, she sat on my lap, sleeping while I worked. Sometimes I’d stop and watch Kay busying herself with her customers and smile. It’s so nice to be home, back around my friends and doing what I love with an extra little helper.