Big Hose (a firefighter single mom romantic comedy) (Size Matters Book 2)

by Blake Wilder

  I stood up again, all the pieces falling into place. “It wasn’t a date. Far from it. Shit. All of this has been one huge misunderstanding.”

  Ike rose as well. “Yeah. I think it has been. So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m in love with Hope Connor.” I’d always avoided those words, certain I’d feel like a jackass saying them.

  Ike slapped me on the shoulder. “It’s about time.”

  I circled the room, looking for my keys.

  “What are you doing?” Ike asked.

  “Going to see her, to talk to her. To tell her how I feel.”

  Ike chuckled and pointed to the clock that hung on the wall next to the big bay doors. “Settle down, Romeo. Hope is at work. I’m pretty sure you’d get her fired if you burst into the kindergarten classroom and swore your undying love in front of a room full of five-year-olds.”

  While Ike’s argument made sense, I was in no mood to wait. “I have to talk to her, Ike. I can’t stand that she thinks—”

  Before I could finish, the fire alarm sounded and I cursed. “Fuck.”

  Ike rushed toward the rack that held our jackets and hats. I watched him without moving, my feet felt like they were sunk in mud, Hope the only thing I could focus on, think about.

  Ernie ran out from the back. “Jake, we gotta hurry. It’s the school.”

  “What school?!”

  “Earhart Elementary,” Ernie explained. “It’s on fire!”

  Eleven

  Hope

  I’d just gotten everyone settled in their seats after story time when the fire alarm went off. I stifled a groan.

  Typically, the principal let us know when she scheduled one. Particularly because it was like herding cats to get twenty-four kids out of the building in an organized fashion.

  “Okay,” I said, raising my hands calmly, when a couple of the girls squealed loudly and three boys bounced out of their chairs excitedly. “We had a fire drill last week. You remember what you’re supposed to do. Line up at the door. We’re going out the back door of the school, single file.”

  I hurriedly went to my desk for a copy of my roster. I needed to call roll once we were all out.

  “What about George?” Amy asked.

  George had nicked his finger with the safety scissors—a feat only my son could manage—and asked to see Ada for a Band-Aid. I kept Band-Aids in the classroom, but George insisted Ada’s were better.

  I knew “better” meant Ada would issue the first aid with a Tootsie Roll.

  “He’ll be fine,” I assured Amy. “He’ll just go outside with Nurse Ada.”

  “Smoke!” Tommy Phillips yelled, pointing at the closed door.

  The word went through the classroom like a bomb exploding. The line they’d slowly started forming disintegrated, as chaos took control. Kids started running and screaming. My shy little boy, Alex, started crying.

  I raised my hands. “Quiet!” I bellowed over the din. “Freeze.”

  They all stopped mid-step and looked at me.

  “My directions haven’t changed. Line up at the door.”

  I had a rope with knots that I’d used the first week of school to teach them how to walk single file. I grabbed it from the storage bin next to my desk. Starting with the line leader, I unrolled it, instructing each child to hold onto a knot.

  “No one lets go of the rope for any reason. Understand?”

  All the heads bobbed up and down and I could see fear on too many faces.

  “We’re going to be fine. Just hold onto the rope and follow me. Okay. Let’s go.”

  I felt the door before opening it. There wasn’t any heat, so I cracked it just a few inches. I saw the first graders passing by, walking behind their teacher, Mrs. Jenkins.

  Once they’d passed, we filed out as well. I walked next to the line leader until we were directly behind the first graders. “Follow them, Tommy. I’m going to drift to the back to make sure everyone is still holding on to the rope.”

  Tommy nodded, straightening up, taking his leadership responsibilities seriously.

  The halls were filling up with smoke quite rapidly, though I couldn’t see any flames. A couple of the kids started coughing.

  “We’re almost there,” I said encouragingly, hoping Ada had George—and Amy’s inhaler—with her. There was no way the little girl would get outside without suffering an asthma attack. We kept one in the room, but I’d stupidly left it behind. I briefly considered running back for it once the kids were out.

  Finally, we reached the back door. The elementary school building was U-shaped and as small as Bootlick. There was one classroom per grade along the outside of the building, which ensured they had lots of big windows, allowing in bright light. The cafeteria and library were in the center of the building.

  Once we were outside, I guided my class to the swing set, our designated area during drills, and quickly called roll. Everyone was present and accounted for—except George. I looked around the playground, relieved when I spotted Ada heading my way, waving Amy’s inhaler.

  Then I realized she was alone.

  “Where’s George?” I asked when she reached us.

  Ada frowned. “What do you mean? I sent him back to you a couple minutes before the alarm went off. He didn’t make it?”

  “Shi-ugar.” I frantically searched the other groups of students, looking for George’s face. Several teachers saw my alarm and Ada told them George was missing. Every adult started calling his name, but there was no response.

  “Ada,” I said, panicking. “Stay with my class. I’m going to circle the building.”

  Ada nodded and I took off, yelling George’s name. I’d looped the place twice before accepting the fact that he wasn’t outside. I glanced at the school. There was a significant amount of smoke coming through the back door we’d just exited. Adrenaline and fear took over as I sprinted for the building, Ada shouting my name, yelling for me to stop.

  There was no way I was waiting outside for the firetrucks to arrive. Smoke inhalation was as dangerous as the actual fire and there was too much smoke.

  I sprinted down the hallway I’d just walked with my students, calling out George’s name between coughing fits. Dashing back to our classroom, I quickly scanned the area. No George. There was less smoke in the room, so I sucked in several deep breaths before heading back into the hallway.

  I could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, but it didn’t calm me down. They were still too far away.

  “George!” I yelled once I was back in the hallway, darting from room to room, throwing open the doors to look for him. My eyes were starting to sting from the smoke, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  I’d only gotten to the first, second, and third grade rooms before I heard my name.

  “Hope!”

  I spun around and saw Jake sprinting toward me. He was wearing his fire jacket and the large helmet he’d plunked down on Layla’s head during our field trip.

  His expression was pure fury. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “I can’t find George,” I said, the words broken up with coughs. “He’s not outside.”

  “You have to get out of here,” he said, gripping my upper arm.

  I shook him off. “Not without George.”

  Jake looked over his shoulder as Ike and Ernie approached, hoses in hand. “Head to the cafeteria,” he commanded. “Principal said fire started there. We’ve got a lost kid.”

  Ike looked alarmed.

  “George,” Jake quickly added. I understood Ike’s concern. His daughter, Clara, was in first grade.

  Ike and Ernie dragged the hoses in the direction of the cafeteria as Jake took my hand, the two of us turning the front corner of the building, passing the entrance to the library.

  “George!” Jake yelled, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.

  “George! Where are you?” I called out.

  We were about to enter the library, when the door opened and George emerged.
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  “Mommy.”

  I ran to him, bending over to pick him up in my arms. “George. George.” I covered his face with kisses, fully aware that it wasn’t the smoke causing the tears I cried anymore.

  “Come on. You two have to get out of here.”

  Jake led us to the closest exit, near the front of the building. The rest of the student body had moved to the back of the school to keep the kids out of the way of the firefighters.

  Once we were out, I sucked in big gulps of fresh air, clinging to George tightly, despite his efforts to wriggle free.

  “I have to go—” Jake started.

  His walkie-talkie crackled, Ike’s voice coming through. “Jake?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said, pressing the button on the side.

  “Fire’s already out. Faulty oven. I’m afraid the tater tots are a total loss. Find George?”

  “Yeah. I got him. I’ll be there in a minute,” Jake replied.

  George’s struggles grew stronger, so I let him down.

  “I waited for you, Jake.”

  “What?” Jake asked, kneeling in front of my son, taking his helmet off and placing it on the ground.

  “I waited for you in the library. I wanted to help you fight the fire.”

  Jake looked up at me, frowning.

  My relief vanished, flashing to anger.

  “You did what?” I asked aghast, not believing my ears. “Why in the hell-eck would you do something like that?”

  George’s lower lip started to wobble in the face of my sudden fury.

  Jake stood up and placed his hands on my cheeks, his thumbs brushing away my tears. “Let me talk to him.”

  I was struggling to breathe, fighting serious rage. It was probably better that Jake take over because I was shaking—the fear, adrenaline, and anger combining, making it hard for me to get control of myself.

  I nodded once, and Jake released me, offering a comforting smile before kneeling in front of George again.

  Before Jake could speak, George continued, “I thought if I helped you fight the fire, you’d like me again and come back to play ball some more.”

  “Oh my God,” I whispered. I’d been so wrapped up in my own broken heart, I didn’t realize George had been suffering the same. I sucked in a harsh breath, one that rattled with a barely concealed sob.

  The only thing that stopped me from picking George back up was Jake. He looked utterly devastated as he cupped my son’s face the same way he’d just done with mine. “God, George. How could you think that? I’ve never stopped liking you. You’re my cool little man with a killer arm and awesome taste in movies. We’re always going to be friends. Always. I swear it.”

  “But you won’t come play anymore.”

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel about you. Your mom and I…well, we’ve got some things to work out.” Jake glanced up at me, his gaze one of pure determination. “And we’re going to do that in a minute.”

  He was right. We needed to talk…for George’s sake if nothing else. I nodded my assent.

  “But before that,” Jake said, “we’ve got to settle this fire thing right now. Do you remember what I told you to do whenever you heard the tornado drill?”

  George nodded earnestly. “Be the man of the house and take care of Mommy. Go to the basement.”

  “That’s right. You take care of your mommy, but at the same time, you take care of yourself. You never—never—stay inside a burning building. What should you have done when you heard that alarm?”

  “Find Mommy and go outside with my friends.” George answered the question, but the sudden thickness in his voice and the tears in his eyes proved he understood he’d been wrong. George had been a people pleaser from the cradle. He hated to disappoint anyone, always crying whenever he’d done something naughty, apologizing quickly.

  “That’s right, George. What you did today was dangerous. And because you did it, your mommy ran back into a burning building to save you. So she was in danger too.”

  George looked up at me, crying. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

  My anger evaporated as quickly as it had come and I started to take him back into my arms. Before I could do that, Jake spoke again.

  “Come here, little man.” Jake wrapped George in a tight embrace. “Promise me the next time you hear a fire alarm, you’ll get out.”

  George clung to Jake and I was struck by the genuine caring that passed between them. “I promise, Jake.”

  “You scared ten years off my life,” Jake murmured softly before placing a soft kiss on the top of George’s head. “What would your mommy do without you? What would I do without you?”

  I was never going to stop crying at this point. Seeing how much Jake loved my son touched me more than anything else in my life.

  “I’m sorry, Jake,” George said again.

  They held onto each other for a few moments more, then Jake released him and George flew back to me. I lifted him, hugging him tightly, as he whispered another apology to me.

  “Don’t cry, Mommy.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” I said, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” I realized that reassurance wasn’t just for him.

  Jake lifted his walkie-talkie. “Ike?”

  “Yeah, bro?”

  “You guys good back there on your own for a few minutes more? I need to do something.”

  “We got this,” Ike said. “Ernie’s going to prop the doors open and set up fans to try to clear the smoke. I’ll deal with the hoses. Take your time.”

  Jake took my hand. “Come on.”

  We walked around the building to where the rest of the students and faculty were waiting. Now that the fire was out, the teachers had apparently declared an impromptu recess. The kids were playing and I overhead the principal announcing to several teachers that school was canceled for the rest of the day. Apparently, an alert was going out to parents and the school busses were on their way back.

  Ada ran over to us the second she spotted me and George. “Thank God,” she said, grabbing George from my arms and giving him the same face full of kisses I’d given him. “Georgie, my sweet Georgie.”

  I’d been in Bootlick two months and met some of the best people I’d ever known in my life. Somehow I’d managed to find George and me the perfect home.

  “You mind keeping an eye on George?” Jake asked Ada. “Hope and I have something we need to discuss.”

  Ada narrowed her eyes, but I put my hand on her arm. “It’s okay, Ada.”

  Then, like a coward, I tried to think of some way to put off this talk with Jake. I knew it needed to happen, but my emotions were on system overload. I figured I was one second away from dissolving into a puddle of goo.

  I officially had no more strength left. And strength was what I needed if I hoped to resist Jake, especially after seeing how much he cared about George.

  Fortunately, Lauren appeared at that moment and my backbone straightened as I recalled her emerging from the fire station Sunday morning.

  “There’s our sexy hero,” Lauren cooed, standing a hair too close to Jake considering where they were.

  “Lauren. Just the person I wanted to see. Come here.” Jake still had a firm grip on my hand and it was clear that whatever he wanted to say to Lauren was going to happen with me as a witness.

  “Jake,” I said, trying to pull my hand away.

  “I need five minutes, Hope. Just five.”

  I opened my mouth to refuse. At least until he looked me right in the eye and added the word, “please.”

  His sad expression reminded me of the way he’d looked the day I’d laughed at the ball field. The day he’d asked “What about me?” and I’d laughed. The guilt I suffered over that was enough to have me agreeing. It helped that numbness was starting to set in too.

  “Okay,” I murmured.

  Jake led Lauren and me to the side of the building, well out of the hearing distance of anyone else outside.

  Jake turned to
face Lauren. “Who did you spend last Saturday night with at the fire station?”

  His question, directed at a suddenly red-faced Lauren, caught me off guard.

  “I, um,” Lauren hedged, her gaze drifting to me. It was obvious she didn’t want to answer that question in front of me.

  “Who, Lauren?” Jake’s tone made it clear he wasn’t going to back down.

  Lauren might get knocked down, but she never stayed down. She threw her head back haughtily. “Ernie.”

  I frowned. “But you said—”

  “I know what I said.” Lauren cut me off.

  “I know what you said too,” Jake added, turning to me. “I just found out about your visit Sunday morning an hour ago from Ike. I took Scott into Kansas City for the weekend for his birthday. We spent Saturday night in a hotel, then saw the Chiefs game on Sunday. I spent Saturday night with my brother. And only my brother.”

  “You weren’t even home,” I said, torn between laughing and crying. Lauren had made a fool of me for the last fucking time.

  Then I remembered the texts. “What about your date on Monday?”

  “You should have stuck around and asked me about those messages,” Jake said.

  I should have, but at the time, I’d been too uncertain of his feelings and too distrustful of my own judge of character. Even so, I said, “I’m not sure how I could have misconstrued what they said.”

  “Where were we a couple of Mondays ago, Lauren?”

  Jake seemed determined to straighten us both out at the same time. And while I was starting to understand, Lauren was slower to learn her lesson.

  “My house.”

  Jake scowled at her. “Your parents’ house. Where you live. And what was I doing there?”

  Lauren crossed her arms, her lips pursed tight.

  “Lauren,” Jake said darkly, his tone pure threat. The truth was coming out even if he had to drag it out of her.

  “Filling their new indoor pool.”

  Jake’s direction turned to me. “Filling a pool.”

  My mind flashed back on that final text. The one that had made me run from his bed.

  I can’t wait for you to fill me up with your big hose.