Page 95 of Make Mine Sweet
“What does that mean?” I don’t manage to make the question sound casual. If it means something about how attractive Tess is, we’re going to have a talk he won’t enjoy.
He chuckles. “It means I can see you two together. Geez, you really are a dinosaur.”
“Thank you. So glad I came over here.”
If anything, he laughs harder. “You know, we just opened up two firefighter paramedic positions. It’s a satisfying gig. Helping people. Being part of a team. Rising to unexpected challenges. And the schedule’s good. Two days on, four off.”
Sounds better than some of my guiding trips where I could be on for eight days at a time, sometimes under grueling conditions. And clearly, I’d have a fan in August if I decided to try my hand at firefighting.
Except…what am I doing? Nathan’s got me thinking aboutanotherpotential job?
“How many jobs do you have?” I ask.
“Just the two. I’m not part of the permanent team for Backcountry EMT, only special events.”
“I don’t know if something like that’s for me.” I don’t know what’s for me anymore, and I sure can’t figure it out in the middle of this festival.
“Ian, look at me!” August waves from the passenger seat of the fire truck, an oversized helmet on his head.
“Looking good, buddy,” I call back. I whip out my phone to take a picture of him up there and text it to Tess.
“There it is again,” Nathan says.
He’s legitimately gloating. If he thinks this kind of crowing is a good pitch for me to become his coworker, he can think again. I wipe my face free of the smile August brought out. But he waves again, and he’s so happy sitting up there, I can’t help but smile back.
Nathan slaps me on the shoulder, a self-congratulatory grin stretched across his own face. “Good to see you again. Let me know if anything changes. My drinks invite still stands.”
“Got it.” His constant enthusiasm is insufferable. But…not all that different from how I acted at his age. Maybe even more recently than that. “I’ll think about it.”
Nathan walks away to command the attention of some kids at the back of the truck. “How tall is our ladder? I’m glad you asked.”
I shake my head at his ridiculousness, but I can’t deny his audience is loving it.
August listens to talks about the firetruck’s knobs and dials, safety gear, and how fast it can go in an emergency. When he’s touched every part of the truck he can reach and asked every last question in his head, he finally returns to me.
Good. I don’t know if I would have had the heart to tear him away from the fun.
“Did you see me, Ian?” he says, taking my hand again.
“I saw it. You looked good up there.” I turn us to head back through the market to the bakery cart.
“Can I be a firefighter when I grow up?”
“Sure.”
“Could I drive the fire truck?”
“I bet you could if you’re a good driver.” Weird to imagine him as anything other than the innocent five-year-old he is now. Why does that make my heart ache so much? Did I become Pierce when I wasn’t looking?
“Will they let me take it home?” he asks.
“I think fire trucks have to stay at the fire station.”
Some of his enthusiasm fades, but then immediately perks back up. “I’ll live at the fire station, too, so that’s okay.”
“Glad that’s settled.”
At the bakery cart, August runs up to Tess. “Can I get my snacks?”
