Crazy, Hot Love

by K. L. Grayson

  “Wait. You knew about Claire?”

  Mom pats my cheek. “I’m your mother, Trevor. I know everything. You think I didn’t notice the way you looked at Claire every time she came over here? When she was around, you’d trip over your own feet. And she was the same way, but I think she fought it a little more than you did. I knew if you two would give each other a solid chance, you’d have a shot at real relationship.”

  “Do you think I’m relationship material? This is the first real one I’ve ever had.”

  “Sit down.” Mom pulls out a chair, and when I sit down, she sits next to me. “It’s not about being relationship material. It’s about finding your other half—the one person who makes you smile and laugh, who’s there for you when you’re down and picks you back up. The person who makes you want to be better and do better. Your father is my person, and I know there’s someone out there for each of my children.”

  I blink, a wave of memories washing over me.

  Claire sticking up for me at the rock quarry.

  Getting the nerve to ask her to dance at my freshman prom, and her saying yes.

  Holding her in my arms as we swayed to the music, and the kiss she planted on my cheek when the song ended.

  Teaching her how to drive the snowmobile when Rhett and Coop were too busy trying to impress other girls.

  Carrying Claire down the hill after she hurt her ankle.

  Battling her at Mario Brothers in the basement while my brothers and all their other friends played spin the bottle in the barn.

  Kissing her that first time at Animal Haven.

  And the second kiss we shared, and third and the fourth.

  Touching her and making love to her for the first time.

  Watching her come alive on that stage at the pier.

  Curling up on the couch and watching movies.

  God, the memories are endless and perfect and, “Claire is my person,” I announce.

  “I know she is, darling. I can see it in your eyes. Now you have to hold on to that, and no matter what, you don’t let go. You fight for her no matter what the cost.”

  “Maybe Claire and I have made it through all the shit. Maybe this is our end,” I say, recalling my conversation with Dad.

  “Oh shit. You’ve already talked to your dad, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Don’t tell your dad I said this, but his theory on relationships and love is way off the mark. Next time you need relationship advice, you just come to your mama.”

  “Really? I don’t think he’s all that far off the mark. Everything he said made perfect sense.”

  “Okay.” She sighs and grabs a rag from the table. “Don’t tell him this either, or he’ll never let me live it down. His theory isn’t completely right, but it’s not completely wrong either.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your entire relationship will be the shit part your dad talks about, because relationships are work—hard work that doesn’t end. It never, ever ends. You’ll have good periods and bad periods, and there will be times you’ll wonder if it’s worth it, and you’ll be tempted to throw in the towel. But if your love is pure and strong, you’ll work through it.”

  “So then when do you hit the end that Dad talks about?”

  “You don’t. And it’s not the end that’s important anyway; it’s all the stuff that comes before it. It’s the memories and the laughter and the fights and—oh my gosh, Claire is here.”

  Mom flies out of her chair, leaving me to ponder everything she said. I think there’s truth to both Mom and Dad’s theories, and they both must know what they’re talking about if they’ve made it this far, right?

  “You better get to Mom before she tackles your girl.”

  I blink up at Coop. He’s leaning against the counter with an easy smile and two beers. He hands me one. “Huh?”

  “Mom,” Adley says, walking into the kitchen. She nods toward the front door.

  Sure enough, there’s Mom, bouncing on her toes by the front door with her sights set on Claire.

  “She did this same thing with Mo, and you have about thirty seconds to intercept her before it’s all over,” Rhett says, joining us.

  “I’ve got this.” Dad claps a hand on my shoulder as he walks by. He wraps an arm around Mom’s shoulders and pulls her farther into the room.

  “What are you doing?” She nudges Dad in the side, but he just laughs.

  “Let the poor woman get out of her car.”

  “I just want to talk to her and welcome her into our home.”

  “And you can greet her with a handshake and friendly smile like most normal people would do.”

  “I’m not normal.”

  “We know that, sweetie.” He kisses the side of her head, and all of us laugh. “Let’s get the table set.”

  There’s a soft knock on the door. I set my beer down and stride across the floor with purpose. Mo smiles up and brushes past me as she walks into the house.

  “Hi.”

  I look at Claire, and the words fly right out of my mouth. She’s wearing a blue sundress that hits just above her knees. Her hair is wrapped in a loose bun at the base of her neck, with red tendrils framing her face. All I can do is stare at her and wonder how in the world I got so damn lucky.

  Her smile slowly fades, and she glances nervously at her dress.

  “Oh God, it’s too much, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “The dress.” She’s got a horrified look on her face. “I knew I should’ve worn jeans like Mo.” Spinning on her heel, Claire steps off the porch, but I catch her arm as she hits the grass.

  “No,” I say, swinging her around. She falls awkwardly against my chest, which is really quite perfect because I like having her in my arms. I cup her jaw and kiss her. “You look perfect.”

  Her shoulders relax. “Really? You’re not just saying that? Because you were looking at me funny back there and—”

  “There you go thinking again.”

  My lips on hers stop everything. Claire melts into me, her tongue pushing between my lips, and when we hear a catcall, she pulls back and holds her fingers to her lips. Her cheeks turn pink, and just like every other time, it turns me on.

  Claire leans to the left, looking around me. Her eyes grow wide. “Your entire family just saw us making out.”

  “Not my entire family. Beau isn’t here. And now’s probably a good time to mention that your mom and Phil are on the patio.”

  “What?” she hisses.

  “Hey, look at me.” I smooth my hands down her arms, and she follows my command. “These people are our family. They love us and support us, and there’s no reason to be nervous.”

  “I just really wanted to make a good impression on your parents, and now my mom is here, and you’ve got to make a good impression on her and—”

  “Claire.”

  Her mouth snaps shut.

  “My parents already love you. You have been here more times than either one of us could ever count. As for your mother, don’t worry about it. I know I’m not,” I lie. Hell yeah I’m worried about making a good impression on her mother. What man wouldn’t be? Claire’s father is gone, so I have one shot at this.

  “You’re right.” She takes a deep breath, and I watch the heat drain from her cheeks. She straightens her back and squares her shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

  We take a step toward the house and Milo barks. Claire stops in her tracks, her jaw dropping as Milo walks around from the back of the house.

  “Oh my gosh, what is this?” she says, kneeling down, undoubtedly to look at the small rope I used to hook Milo’s leash to Duke’s.

  “She kept running into things and stumbling, so I hooked her up to Duke and let him guide her around.” The contraption Rhett and I came up with has enough slack to give each dog room to move. Essentially, it’s no different that Milo being on a leash, only it’s Duke who’s walking her. “He’s her eyes. Watch this. Duke, come her
e, buddy.”

  Duke might tower over Milo, but the second I hooked them together, he became hyperaware of her, walking more slowly and taking extra precautions to ensure her safety.

  When Duke starts walking, so does Milo, and when he stops at my feet, she stops, too. “Sit.” Both dogs sit. Milo’s head is tilted in the air as though she’s looking up at Duke, waiting for him to make his next move.

  “Trevor,” Claire breathes. “This is absolutely fantastic. I can’t believe this. She’s like a different dog. He’s her navigation.” She gives Milo a pat on the head and scratches Duke behind the ear. “I’m going to have to get another dog.”

  I squat down next to Claire. “I don’t think she needs a guide all the time, but it would be nice when you take her places where she could get hurt—like Animal Haven, or if I bring her here.”

  Claire gives me a teasing look. “You mean you’d want to bring my prissy dog to the ranch more often?”

  “She’s not so bad,” I say, petting the dogs. “She’s got a huge personality that I’m sort of falling in love with. Kind of like her owner.”

  Claire leans toward me. “That was smooth, Mr. Allen, using my handicapped dog to get to me.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Oh, it so worked.”

  42

  Trevor

  “Mrs. Allen, dinner was amazing,” Claire says, leaning back in her chair. “I’m stuffed.”

  Mom scoffs. “You’ve been calling me Vivian for years, dear, no sense in changing it now.”

  Claire’s smile is bright. “Okay. Vivian it is.”

  The dogs are all napping under the oak tree. I’ve got my arm along the back of Claire’s chair, one foot propped up on my knee, a cold beer, my family, and a beautiful girl. I’m not sure life gets much better than this. I’ve felt unsettled most of my life—first as an angry, awkward teen, then as a guilt-ridden young adult. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to this place.

  Claire reaches for my plate, stacking it on top of hers. “I’ll do dishes.”

  “Oh, no, dear,” Mom says. “The dishes can wait.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind.” Claire looks down at me and then back at my mom.

  With a hand on Claire’s hip, I draw her back into the chair. “Don’t fight with her on this. You’ll lose.”

  “He’s right,” Adley says, standing. “We prefer to enjoy each other’s company while we can. Cleanup can come later.”

  She stacks everyone’s dishes and carries them into the house. She comes out a few minutes later with a fresh set of plates and silverware, and a pie.

  “Dessert anyone?”

  “I’ll take a s-s-slice,” Mo’s father says. His speech isn’t the best since his stroke, but it’s clearer every time I talk to him.

  Claire’s mom, Sharon, leans forward and cuts each of them a piece.

  “You want one?” I whisper to Claire.

  “I might explode, but I’m afraid if I say no I won’t get to try it.”

  “I’ll share a piece with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” I carve out a slice, grab two forks, and hand one to Claire. We both dig in as the conversation swirls around us. Everyone is laughing and carrying on, and Claire has just fed me the last bite when my phone vibrates and the fire tones go off.

  We used to have to carry big clunky pagers when we were on call, but thanks to modern technology, there’s an app for that.

  I reach for my hip, pulling my cell off the clip, and stand up. My crew rotates with the others in case we’re needed for a mutual aid call, and this is one of those times. Lifting the phone to my ear, I step away from the table to listen.

  The three dogs have perked up at the loud tones and sit patiently, like the rest of my family.

  We don’t get second- and third-alarm fire calls very often, but every once in a while, they happen. My family is used to it, but Claire stands up and closes the distance between us. She stands at my side and listens as the dispatcher gives me the information I’m looking for.

  “Attention Heaven Fire Department, Heaven EMS, second-alarm fully involved structure fire at the corner of Route Forty and Berkshire Road in Dayton. There’s a report of occupants inside. Dayton Fire Department is on scene and is requesting backup.”

  My phone vibrates again with an incoming call. I spin and walk quickly toward my truck with Claire hot on my heels. I answer on the next ring.

  “What do you need, Chief?”

  “Truck 1049, 1050, and 1051 are responding. Suit up and meet us there.”

  “On my way.”

  I end the call and unlock my truck.

  “What’s happening?” Claire asks. “Where are you going?”

  “There’s a fire in Dayton I have to respond to.” I grab my bunker gear from the back of my truck. I kick off my shoes and toss them in the cab. Shoving my feet in my rubber boots, I pull my suit up, wrapping the straps over my shoulders and then shrug on my coat.

  “But you’re off today.”

  “I am, but I’m on call, and I’ve got to go.”

  Claire shakes her head. “What does that even mean? I didn’t know you took call.”

  I cradle her face in my hands. “Claire, I will explain all of this to you, but I can’t right now because I have to go. People are counting on me; my department is counting on me.”

  Her eyes cloud over, but she takes a step back. “Go.”

  I toss my helmet into the front seat, but instead of leaving, I reach for her. “I’ll see you later tonight, okay? I love you, Claire.”

  I kiss her softly, climb into the driver’s seat, and pull out of my parents’ driveway onto the road. Dayton is a neighboring town about fifteen minutes from where I am. As I drive, I listen to dispatch giving updates, and my mind wanders back to Claire. My gut twists when I recall the uncertainty in her eyes as I left.

  With that one look, I knew I’d failed her. This—firefighting, my occupation—has been Claire’s biggest insecurity, and I should’ve prepared her for something like this.

  It took a lot of courage for her to push her fears aside and give me—us—a chance, and the last thing I need is for her to get spooked and withdraw. I don’t care how late it is, when I get home tonight, I’m going to sit down with her, and we’re going to have a serious talk. I’m not going to hold anything back. I’m going to explain what it is that I do, what part I play when I arrive on scene, and what she can expect from different calls. I want her to have every piece of information she needs to move forward with me with a clear mind.

  Which is what I need to have as I pull up on scene. I can see smoke billowing into the air from several blocks away. The closer I get, the thicker it gets, and I pull over on a side street, not wanting to get too close. I flip on my hazards, grab my helmet, and get out of my truck. I walk straight toward the fiery mess, meeting several of my crew members along the way. Fire trucks are lined up along the road, some hooked up to fire hydrants, others not. People are screaming and crying, and there are officers and emergency personnel doing their best to keep the growing crowd back while attending to the injured.

  Chief waves us over and fills us in. “There were fifty to one hundred people inside when the fire broke out. Twenty-seven have been accounted for.”

  “Fifty to one hundred?” Mikey asks. “Which is it? That’s big gap.”

  “No one really knows. The warehouse is abandoned, and young kids from around the area come here for parties. The building is divided into five different sections, and while the majority of occupants were in two of the sections, it’s unclear how many occupied the other areas. Mikey, Trevor, Casey, get your packs on. You’re going in.”

  I’ve never given much thought to running into a burning building, but tonight I can’t help but think of Claire. For the first time, I have a reason to come out. I have a reason to fight and get home at the end of the night.

  Not that my family wasn’t a good enough reason—they would be devastated if something happene
d to me—but Claire is different. She’s my life. My future. My reason to get in, do my job, and get out. But even though she weighs heavily on my mind, there’s only one answer I can give Chief. The same answer as Mikey and Casey.

  “Yes, sir.”

  43

  Claire

  Every fear I’ve buried deep or thought I’d conquered bubbles to the surface. My mother’s warnings that I failed to heed are now playing loud and clear in my head as I watch Trevor’s truck drive away. When I turn around, I can tell by the look on Mom’s face that she knows exactly what’s running through my brain.

  This has to be some sort of sign.

  My stomach rolls, followed by a thick wave of nausea, and suddenly my mouth becomes overly moist, like it does when I’m about to throw up. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths, willing the feeling to go away.

  I can’t believe I allowed this to happen. I fooled myself into thinking I could handle something like this, when clearly, I cannot. My heart is racing, nearly exploding out of my chest at the thought of Trevor running into another fire.

  Why did I think I could ever do this day in and day out—support him and say goodbye to him, knowing he’s running toward danger? I realize now that most days, Trevor leaves for work, and I don’t know what kinds of calls he’s responding to. I just go by what he tells me at the end of his shift, which usually isn’t much more than a brief rundown of what happened. I see now that maybe he was trying to protect me.

  My legs are shaky and numb as they carry me back across the yard toward the rest of the group.

  Mom stands up and takes a step toward me, but I raise my hand, stopping her. Right now I need to concentrate on holding myself together and not bursting into a ball of tears and snot. If she wraps her arms around me, I’m going to lose that battle.

  She takes a step back and sits in her chair, but her back is stiff, and I know she’s ready to pounce on me at a moment’s notice. I’m not so lucky with Trevor’s mom, because as soon as I sit down, she reaches for my hand, and the emotion pushes forward, flooding my eyes.