Page 23 of Embers of You
“What’s with all of you wanting to gossip all the time?” I stand up, twisting to stretch my back.
“It’s more entertaining than sitting here twiddling our thumbs,” Dave retorts.
“Maybe to you, but I think I’d prefer if you did exactly that. It would save me from a headache.”
The signal for a call goes off, and a rag is thrown at me, and I see it was Jo who threw it. I catch it before it falls onto the ground and toss it back to her.
“If you all are done screwing around, we have some lives to save,” I taunt as we all get ready to go on the call.
We get to the small business office that’s complaining about smoke, thinking there’s a fire. Turns out it’s just an issue with the fluorescent lights needing to be replaced. The manager of the building shows up and looks at us like we’re the cause of the issue.
“What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“We responded to a call about smoke in the building,” I answer easily.
“This seems unnecessary, the building is fine. There’s no fire,” the manager snaps.
“There could have been, though,” I reason.
“Well, there’s not.” The man, who couldn’t be more than five foot seven and is wearing a shirt that doesn’t even cover his gut, storms off and I look at the woman who made the call.
“He’s great,” she says sarcastically once he’s out of earshot.
“You did the right thing by calling us,” I tell her honestly.
Once we are back to the station, I tell my crew that I’m going to try to rest a bit. Really, I just want some space away from them for a few minutes.
Laying down on one of the hard cots, I take my phone out and see there’s a text from the number I made sure to save after she called to tell me Duke was ready. I’ve shown an incredible amount of restraint not reaching out to her and seeing that she’s texted me has a giant smile spreading across my face.
Sutton: I could come by tomorrow if you’re not busy.
My stomach swoops when I think about her offering to come over but then remember it’s because I asked her to groom my horse. My master plan to see her more suddenly feels like it’s not good enough, but it’s even worse when I have to reply saying no.
Jameson: I’ll still be on shift tomorrow. What about this weekend?
Sutton: Maybe. I’ll check my schedule.
Jameson: Any chance you could check your schedule for free time to hang out with me too?
Sutton: Nice try.
Jameson: How was the pizza?
This time it takes her a little longer to respond. I think she’s not going to, and I drop my phone face down on my chest right before it dings again.
Sutton: It was good.
Sutton: Thank you.
It may not be much, but for some reason her texts give me hope that maybe she’s not totally shut off on the idea of us at least being friends. Even if that’s all I get I’ll take it happily with her.
“Jameson!” My name is called, and I groan, it’s not like we’re getting a call, this is purely station drama once again.
“Did you run away?” another voice yells.
“Not yet,” I respond, putting my phone away and getting up to join everyone back in the main room.
As I head back down, I think about how this is one of the rare times that I’m counting down the hours until I can go home. There’s a chance I could see Sutton for longer than a passing minute, and I haven’t had something to look forward to in a long while.
