Page 28 of Fire Fight
“Ah, no. That’s okay. I only wanted to check on Aspen, and now that I see she’s okay, I’m gonna go.”
I turned to leave, but Aspen calling my name stalled me in the doorway, and I glanced back over my shoulder at her.
“Thank you,” she said, her parents echoing the sentiment.
“Anytime,” I promised.
And then I was gone.
nine
. . .
CREW
I understood tense family relationships,and Aspen’s with her parents was really the least of my concerns, but I couldn’t shake off the interaction I’d witnessed. The way both Aspen and her father had quickly diffused the situation told me they’d likely done it countless times before.
Less than thirty-six hours later, as I strode into the station for my next shift, it still played on a loop in my mind. For some reason, I found I genuinely cared how her parents treated her. While I believed her mom meant well, the last thing Aspen needed was stress in the form of overparenting. I’d been in that position myself, and it fucking sucked. Like every single move you made—big or small—was examined under a microscope.
“Sup, Cap,” Tuck said when I walked into the locker room.
“I could’ve used another day off,” I grumbled. My sleep schedule was all sorts of fucked up.
“That’s what you get for working a double,” he chided. “You could’ve appointed an acting lieutenant for first shift.”
I scoffed. “I don’t trust any of those fuckers enough to do that.”
Tuck laughed. “Fair enough.”
I dropped my bag and opened my locker, then began stripping out of my street clothes in favor of my uniform.
I tugged my polo over my head, and a voice called my name. I turned to find Lane standing at the end of the row.
“Sheriff,” Tuck said, tipping an imaginary hat to my brother as he left the room.
Lane shook his head. “Amazing that kid became a firefighter considering the number of times I arrested him when I first joined the force.”
“You could say the same about me,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but at least you got out of town and made something of yourself.”
“Tuck is a hell of a firefighter, Lane,” I told him, leveling a finger in his face. “Don’t insult my men. Ever.”
Blood was thicker than water and all that, and I loved my family fiercely, but my men and I were forged in the fire together. Sometimes, I thought that was a stronger bond than anything else. The trust we had to place in each other to come out of every call alive meant opening ourselves up fully. There couldn’t be secrets. Everything had to be out in the open because our—and other people’s—lives depended on it.
My brother raised his hands in surrender and said, “Okay. Sorry.”
I only gave him a curt nod in response, then asked, “Why are you here?”
“We’re walking the shop fire today.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you forget?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I willed myself not to react to his goading.
“No, I didn’t forget, but I just walked in the door.” I gestured to my boots, to the laces still undone and my shirt folded up around my chest where I hadn’t fully pulled it on. “And I thought we were meeting there.”
“I wanted to get a jump on things.”
I bit my tongue, holding back my retort. This was so like my brother, to ignore set plans in favor of his own schedule—even though meeting at the site at ten had been his suggestion in the first place.
