Page 2 of Fire Me Up
“So, Gael,” Aiden said through a mouthful of food, “Liv tells us you’re a firefighter? That’s really cool.”
I shrugged, wincing at the pull in my shoulder. “It’s just a job.”
“Remember when he made us play rescue squad?” Marisol laughed, scooping guacamole onto her taco. “He always made me play the victim.”
“You were a dramatic victim. It added realism.”
Everyone laughed, and even Cash’s mouth twitched upward.
The food was good, the beer was cold, and for the first time in weeks, the restless itch under my skin eased. I hated feeling useless. At work, there was always a call to run, someone to help, a fire to fight. Here, all I had was too much time and no one who needed saving.
“So, how long are you on leave?” Aiden asked, reaching for another taco. “Four weeks sounds like a dream vacation.”
Cash elbowed Aiden gently, and Aiden’s eyes widened.
“Oh shit, Cash is right. That came out wrong. I mean, you got shot, and that must have been painful and traumatic. I don’t wish that on anyone.”
Cash hadn’t actually said anything at all.
I smiled at Aiden, reassuring him. “I knew what you meant. A few weeks ago, I probably would have said the same thing about days off. Now, I’d give anything to be back at work. I’m going stir-crazy.”
“Understatement of the year,” Liv groaned. “Gael doesn’t know what to do if he can’t be an action hero. So far, he’s rearranged our spice rack alphabetically so we can’t find anything—”
“It’s alphabetical. It’s literally a system for finding things.”
“Then he color-coded Marisol’s bookshelf.”
“Not a system for finding things,” Marisol interjected.
“And he started deep-cleaning the oven this morning. At 5 a.m.”
“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” I said. “When was the last time you cleaned that thing?”
“He’s driving us absolutely nuts,” Marisol said.
“A firefighter who can’t play with hoses is like a border collie with no sheep to herd,” Liv said. “All energy and nowhere to put it.”
“I’m high-energy! It’s not a flaw!”
Marisol pointed her fork at me. “Maybe you should try meditation. Or yoga! I know this great studio that—”
I groaned loudly. “Please, no. I’d be safer at Liv’s motorcycle shop.”
At the mention of the FRMC, Liv perked up, eyes lighting with the kind of inspiration that usually ended with me doing something I’d regret. “I have the perfect thing! One of our best instructors at the Collective is starting a new class tomorrow. Motorcycle maintenance basics.”
“Dylan’s doing the beginner class again?” Aiden asked excitedly. “Cash keeps telling me to join that. But let’s face it, I’m not cut out for anything involving screwdrivers and wrenches.”
“Because he doesn’t know the difference between screwdrivers and wrenches,” Liv said, and everyone burst out laughing.
“I mean, they both turn stuff,” Aiden huffed.
Cash rolled his eyes, then reached out and rubbed Aiden’s back. Aiden leaned into the touch.
“Dylan is amazing,” Liv said. “Super patient, knows everything about bikes, and he’s funny. He can make any topic fun. He might get sidetracked and tell you way more than you need to know—but in an entertaining way. You’d love him.”
“Plus, he is super handsome,” Aiden added. Cash grunted, and he added, “Not as handsome as Cash, but an easy second place.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Marisol jumped in.
