Before I can make a snide remark about small-town gossip not being all that gossipy apparently, my son pipes up with excitement. “My dad is the best firefighter.” Pride soars through me until I watch his shoulders drop and his face go sad. “But then he died.”
“I fell,” I correct him, trying to keep the sharpness out of my tone. I wish I could convince him I wasn’t that close to death that day. “I didn’t die,” I say more softly. Elijah doesn’t say anything, and my heart feels brittle, like it might crack in half. I glance at Spencer and can see his lips have thinned out in concern. “We’re working on it,” I defend, and though I’m not sure he’s actually judging me, it feels like it.
It feels that way any time I’m in this situation. With Tori. With the counselor. Not really with Bowen—but I suppose that’s because his life is the job. He understands. But it’s hard to explain to anyone who isn’t a first responder. The need to protectand save people. I see the judgment in people when they see the fear on my son’s face, and I get it.
It’s a conflict I’ve had since he was old enough to talk and understand what I do for a living. But then he brags about me being a firefighter or he tells me he’s proud of me, and it’s so validating. The highs and lows are constant though, an internal battle I fear I’ll never win.
Spencer doesn’t say anything to me. Instead, he kneels down in front of Elijah. “You know, my first year of college, I was going to meet some friends at the movie theater, and this driver came out of nowhere, going the wrong way and ran right into my car.” I see my kid tense a little, and I wonder why Spencer is telling him this but find that he seems intrigued by the story, and I can’t really lie—I am too—so I don’t interrupt. “The airbags went off and hit me square in the face, and I was in pain and scared.” For some reason, I don’t like hearing about this.
My entire body is rigid with rage, thinking about him in his car—possibly trapped. Scared and alone. I want to find the fucker who hit him and beat the shit out of him—which makes no sense.
“But you know what, Elijah?”
“What?” my son asks, clearly enthralled by the story.
“I heard the sirens, and then I saw the firetruck and their lights. I knew I was going to be okay then. Even though I’d never been in a situation where I needed firefighters to rescue me, I knew that meant they were there to help.”
“Did they?” Elijah asks quietly.
Spencer smiles. “They did. They got me out of the car and made sure I was okay. They made me feel safe.” I swallow hard, not sure why he’s telling my son this but grateful because Elijah looks pleased. “I’m glad they were there, and I know your dad and others like him have helped so many people just like me. I don’t know what the world would do without them.”
Elijah lights up at that. “Yeah.”
Spencer grins and then stands up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Elijah.”
“Okay. Bye, Mr. Bell!” he says with a lightness in his tone, and I look at Spencer and smile at him gratefully. But while he was more than happy to be kind to my son, it seems that’s where it ends.
I just wind up with a cold nod before he leaves.
Well, okay. I guess at least he’s going to play nice with Elijah. That’s all that matters. I don’t care if the guy can’t stand me, for whatever reason.
CHAPTER SIX
“Just stay for one more,” Janelle says as she waves down the sweet bartender Judy at the local tavern. I should say no and just go home, but she’s a really bad influence on me, and it is Friday.
“Fine. One more,” I say right before Janelle orders us each another drink. It was a good first week of school, but man, am I tired.
“You know, you really should let me fix you up.”
I roll my eyes and thank Judy when she places a new drink in front of each of us before turning back to my friend and her ridiculous need to see me in a relationship. “No. Never again.”
“Oh my God. Ryan was sweet.”
“Ryanstill lived with his mom and called herMommy. At thirty. No.”
She cackles and takes a drink, but she doesn’t let it go. Janelle is one of the few people who actually knows for sure that I’m gay. It’s not something I really hide, and I dated plenty in college, but when you live in a small, rural, conservative town, and you’re a teacher—sometimes it’s best to live life on the down-low. It’s not a secret, but I don’t talk about it at work either.
Janelle—she’s just different. I think she clocked it right away but let me tell her in my own time—after trying to set me up with severalcute girls she knows. But every time she did it, it was like this inside joke. For whatever reason, it helped me know she’d be just fine if I told her I was gay and not at all interested in cute girls, though maybe if she knew a cute guy or two, I’d be open to it.
Big mistake, by the way.
She’s been trying to set me up with every man she meets. I do adore the woman though.
“What about withhim?” Her eyes are glued to the door. I think the woman might be drooling, so of course I have to take a glance, though I wish I hadn’t.
Walking through the door is Kade—looking way too damn hot in a pair of jeans and a tight black Garnett Fire Department t-shirt. His hair is wet, like he just took a shower, and I will my body not to react.
I turn away. “This is not happening.”