Page 21 of Stuck with my Brother's Firefighter Besties

Ethan Grady stepped through the door like he owned the place, his greasy coveralls unzipped halfway down, revealing a T-shirt that probably used to be white. His dark hair was mussed, and there was a streak of engine oil on his cheek that he hadn’t bothered to wipe off.

“Did someone say my name?” he asked, his grin wide and easy, the kind only a small-town mechanic could pull off.

“Yeah,” Nate said, walking up to meet him. “I said you were late.”

Ethan laughed, clapping Nate on the shoulder. “Good to see you, too, buddy. Don’t worry, your baby’s in good hands.”

“She better be,” Ryan piped up, pushing off the wall. “If we have to listen to that engine rattle through another emergency call, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Rattle?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow. “You mean the rattle you ignored for weeks before finally calling me?”

I barked out a laugh. “He’s got you there, Ry.”

Ryan flipped me off without missing a beat, but he was grinning.

“All right, show me the patient,” Ethan said, motioning toward the truck.

As we all walked over, the banter didn’t stop.

“Think you can fix it this time, Grady?” Nate asked, his tone half joking.

“Fix it?” Ethan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not a miracle worker, but I’ll do my best. You guys treat this truck like it’s a demolition derby car.”

“That’s mostly Colt,” Ryan said, nudging me with his elbow.

“Hey!” I held up my hands in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I drive that thing like it’s made of glass.”

“Yeah, broken glass,” Nate shot back, earning a round of laughter from everyone.

Even Ethan was chuckling as he climbed into the cab of the truck, tools in hand. “Man, you guys are worse than the old men who hang out at the diner every morning. Do you ever stop giving each other crap?”

“Nope,” Jaxon said, finally joining the conversation from where he’d been leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His expression was relaxed, but there was an edge of humor in his voice. “It’s how we show affection.”

“Yeah,” I added, grinning. “If we’re not insulting you, we probably don’t like you.”

Ethan shook his head, muttering something about “firemen and their egos” before getting to work.

* * *

By the time Ethan had finished, I couldn’t ignore Jaxon’s mood anymore.

There was a tension radiating off him that I could feel from across the room. Every time I so much as walked past him, I could feel his eyes on me, sharp and unrelenting.

At first, I chalked it up to him just being in a mood—everybody had off days—but by mid-afternoon, it was clear this wasn’t just a random funk.

He was irritated.

Specifically with me.

When the call came in, it was almost a relief. A small kitchen fire on the other side of town—nothing too serious, but enough to get us out of the station and back into action.

The drive to the scene was mostly quiet, the only sounds coming from the rumble of the now-quiet engine and Nate barking out updates over the radio.

Jaxon was sitting across from me in the cab, his arms crossed and his jaw tight. I caught him glancing at me more than once, each time with that same irritated look.

“What’s your problem?” I finally asked, keeping my voice low so Nate wouldn’t hear.

Jaxon shot me a look that could’ve melted steel. “What’smyproblem? You’re really asking me that?”

---