Blowing Smoke: A Small-town Firefighter Gay Romance (The Wilds Book 2)

by Ashton Cade

  “No, it’s not,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. And just like that, he’s back to looking worried and stressed like he did last night.

  “I don’t know how to… be with someone,” he says with a huff. “Our friendship has always been rock solid, but a relationship is beyond me. You know how my family is… You know that stuff’s never worked out in any of the examples I ever had. Jack’s school, the force, my shitty apartment… Things are really complicated right now. I don’t want to take it out on you.”

  I slide the pan off the burner and turn to face him, trying the best smile I can manage. “Whatever happened to ‘no hurry’?” I ask, tilting my head. Angel walks across to my other shoulder, and I try my best to ignore him. “You take whatever time you need to figure things out, and I’ll be here.”

  Be here waiting for what is a question I can’t answer. He mentioned a relationship, but I don’t know if that’s what either of us wants. It’s just not even in the cards right now so there’s no point in thinking about it. It’s obvious the weight of all these problems is too much for Jared, but he’s not ready to ask for help yet.

  I’m not even sure what I could do to help.

  I could get him out of that crappy apartment at the very least, but I don’t think he’d accept any offers I make to let him move in. He’s just not ready for that.

  I hope he’s willing to take some help before it gets too bad, though. I know how stubborn he can be, and I know he’s not good at keeping his own limitations in mind.

  “Are you helping with the Harvest Festival too?” he asks, sipping his coffee, the vulnerability and openness gone.

  “Yeah, of course.” It’s the first year that Caleb’s ranch has been open. All summer long they hosted a farmer’s market on the weekends, and for the very last one of the year, they’re hosting an event with live music and fun for the whole family. Of course that just means Caleb and Tanner have roped in every one of their friends and acquaintances to help with set up.

  There’s no more talk about relationships, or us, or any of Jared’s problems while we eat breakfast. Instead we talk about the upcoming winter, the people in town who’re likely to run into trouble once the snow comes, and whether or not I’ve got room to take in anymore strays—you can probably guess who falls into which camp on that one.

  We head out to The Wilds together, grass glistening with ice in the early morning sun, the few deciduous trees we have in this area fully decked out in yellow and orange. The only people already working when we get to the site are Caleb, Tanner, and Eli. We’re the first ones here, which means everyone notices us coming together.

  “You guys are early!” Tanner calls, jogging over to greet us. He looks around at my truck, then tilts his head at Jared. “No bike? Figured you’d still be trying to get every ride out you can.”

  Jared shrugs. “Not today. What’re we doing?”

  Tanner looks at me, but I don’t return it. I don’t have the skillful poker face that Jared does, and I’m pretty sure one look at me will give everything away. The whole time Tanner’s explaining our tasks, I’m thinking about that shrug. I didn’t exactly expect him to shout from the rooftops that we woke up in bed together this morning, but I don’t know how to feel about his reaction.

  I guess for now, I have to stick by my word and remember there’s no hurry. What happens will happen on its own time.

  I just wish its own time was a little quicker.

  Chapter 3

  Jared

  I wake up feeling like there’s an elephant’s foot on my chest. I can’t breathe, my lungs are tight and screaming for oxygen I can’t force through.

  Fumbling, I manage to stagger across my bedroom to the inhaler on my dresser. Holding the medicine in my lungs, I sink down onto the corner of my mattress, head spinning, panic still rushing through my veins.

  Not the best way to wake up in the middle of the night.

  Are there any good ways to wake up in the middle of the night?

  That’s my third asthma attack this week. I can’t stay here anymore. If the landlord isn’t going to fix this mold issue, I have to leave. I don’t really have a choice. Forcing him to do the right thing through the courts would be a long and laborious process, and I don’t have the time or energy for it. My time for weathering these conditions is already up.

  Where can I go, though? Gateway doesn’t exactly have a ton of available real estate in my budget. Most people in this area are land owners like Caleb and Hunter. Apartments are in short supply, affordable ones even less so.

  I could go to Hunter’s I’m sure. I don’t think there’s any chance of him turning me away. But I can’t bring myself to do that to him. That’s a shitty position to put someone in. I don’t want to make him feel like he doesn’t have a choice, and I definitely don’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to accelerate the intimacy between us.

  By the time I feel solid enough to ride, I decide to head to the station. This time of night there’s hardly anyone around. The break room is dim and quiet and the couch looks inviting as hell after that chilly ride here. It’s not something I’d generally do, but I’m the chief now, who’s going to reprimand me for crashing in the break room? It’s only temporary until I can find somewhere with breathable air.

  This is the only real option I have, I remind myself as I’m pulling a throw up over my torso. If I showed up at Hunter’s right now, he’d lose it. He’d be all over me, taking care of me like one of his strays, and I’d end up feeling weak and feeble. I don’t want to be fussed over. I don’t want to be vulnerable.

  I meant what I said when I told him I’ve got too much going on right now. This mold thing is just the last straw. There’s no room for more straws with him. There just isn’t.

  The break room couch isn’t as comfy as it looks, and the room is cold, the hum of the vending machine is distracting, but eventually I manage to drift off for a couple more hours.

  When I wake up, my neck is sore, my back is stiff, and every joint feels just a little too cold to want to work properly. It’s early enough that no one else is in here, though there is a pot of coffee brewing on the counter. I drag myself to standing, stretch, bend, and stretch some more. I can still feel the lingering effects of my late-night asthma attack, the tightness in my chest that still hasn’t fully gone away, overall weakness and tiredness.

  I clean up the evidence of me crashing on the couch, and leave to set up our daily briefing, coffee in hand. I have a feeling that by the end of this day, I’m going to be more coffee than man.

  The briefing today is all about making sure we’re ready to tackle winter head-on. The previous chief was a little lax about winterizing the fleet, and he was much more reactive than proactive, something I’ve been trying to change in this department all year.

  I know I look like shit standing up in front of my force, but they’ve got the decency to pretend otherwise.

  “This year was particularly dry, so we’re expecting a lot of precipitation once it comes. We’ve got to be ready for blizzard conditions—be on the look-out for looters, travelers stuck in their vehicles. We could very well lose power, so we need to make people aware of the dangers of carbon monoxide poisoning, especially the people who’re wintering up here for the first time.” People do stupid things when they’re cold. Like run generators inside, or start fires without ventilating the area. The only way to prevent that is through education.

  “I want every cruiser through winter inspection by the end of this week. I don’t want us caught with our pants around our ankles when the first heavy snow comes.”

  There’s a bit more meeting to get through, assignments and updates on cases. Luckily for everything else I have to cover, I’ve got notes. By the end of it all, I’m more than ready to collapse on the couch all over again, but this is just the start of my day.

  Coffee’s not doing the trick. I need something stronger. Not sure there’s anywhere to go from there without raiding the evidence loc
ker. I’m just gonna have to deal. Thankfully I can spend most of the day hiding behind my desk, doing paperwork. The beauty of being the big shot.

  “You ready?” Cody asks, looking at me skeptically over the rim of his thermos. Before I was made Chief, Cody was my partner. As far as partners go, I couldn’t ask for much more than what Cody provided. He always had my back, never pried in my business too much, and kept to the letter of the law while enforcing it. But right now, I don’t know what he’s talking about.

  He must see my confusion, because he offers an explanation without me getting to the question. “You said we could go out on duty while my cruiser’s getting winterized, for old time’s sake,” he reminds me gently.

  “Right. Sorry, didn’t realize that was today. Had a rough night.”

  He frowns, but doesn’t look surprised. “What’s up?”

  I tilt my head from side to side, trying to work out the crick in my neck, but it’s stubborn.

  “You’ve seen my place. I’ve gotta get out of there. It’s falling apart.”

  “There’s a posting at the coffee shop for an apartment,” Cody says. “Sleeping above someone’s garage has got to be better than this place, right?” he jokes, nudging me with his elbow. I try to laugh it off, but my stomach twists. Everyone must’ve seen my bike already here when they came in this morning. Everyone’s bound to know I spent the night here.

  Gateway’s not exactly a gossip-y place, but I don’t want anyone thinking the Chief of Police is homeless, either.

  “Yeah, maybe I’ll check it out,” I mutter.

  “I’m sure he’ll give you a good deal, being friends and all,” Cody continues, nodding to himself, pleased with cracking the case.

  “What?”

  “The guy with the apartment over his garage, it’s your friend, Saila, the firefighter?”

  “Hunter?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. I know you’ve gotta worry about Jack’s tuition, but surely he’ll cut you a deal, right?”

  “Mhm,” I mutter, stomach twisting again.

  Of course the best option for an apartment is at Hunter’s place.

  Asking to stay with him, as a guest or a tenant, is putting him in a really awkward situation. It’s putting both of us in a really weird position, and I’d rather avoid it altogether. The dynamic we have now is good. No need to change it.

  I try to keep an eye out for other places during the shift with Cody. There are a few houses I know are out of my budget, but not much else.

  It’s a slow shift, mostly us going around town telling shop owners and church leaders and anyone else with some kind of platform about the message we’re trying to get out before the blizzards. It takes the whole community to get the word out that people need to be prepared. Even in this day and age, there are a lot of folks around here that get all their news via word of mouth.

  As slow as the shift is, I’m exhausted by the end of it. And I can’t even relax. I sit down in my office and rub my bleary eyes, pulling up the local classifieds on the computer. When that turns up bust, I find a forgotten newspaper on someone’s desk and swipe the classifieds for that, too.

  Everything I find is too big, too much, or too far.

  I’m not giving up after one day, though. There has to be another option.

  For now, I set up a cot in my office rather than sleep in the break room, and tell myself I’ll tackle it fresh tomorrow.

  Chapter 4

  Hunter

  “You guys be good, okay?” I say to the house, sliding my arms into the sleeves of my coat. “Winnie, you make sure Angel and the cats don’t start World War Three, all right, girl?” I add, scratching her under the chin before I grab my keys.

  Winnie jumps up, bouncing excitedly, sure she’s coming with me since I was talking to her. We were only just a walk including playtime at the dog park, though, so she should be okay.

  “No, no. You have to stay here. Hold down the fort,” I say, pushing her back from the door. “Stay,” I say, a little firmer this time.

  Winnie’s ears go back, her eyes doing that pitiful droopy thing as she retreats a step.

  “Nuh-uh. You’re not guilting me this time. I’ve got work to do,” I insist, giving her one last pat on the head. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” My insides do a little flutter as I step out the door, anticipation washing over me.

  Jared and I have plans.

  Not fun plans, unfortunately, but plans nonetheless. I’ve finally convinced him to let me at least help him clean out some of the mold in his place. There’s no way he can tackle it by himself without industrial filtration masks—most of which aren’t going to catch the spores irritating him anyway—or winding up in the hospital. His landlord has conveniently been out of town for weeks, and all the tenants are expecting he won’t be back before spring.

  I wish Jared would just move out of the shit hole, but he’s stubborn. He doesn’t want hand-outs or charity. He’s determined to figure it out on his own.

  At least he’s letting me help with clean up. It’s not much, but it’s something. I’ll sleep a little easier knowing he’s not in this death trap he calls an apartment with his lungs slowly closing up.

  I grab coffee on the way over to his place, make sure my flyer is still up since I haven’t had any calls about the apartment over the garage.

  Well, it’s not really an apartment. It’s got a separate entrance from outside, but no kitchen or bathroom of its own. Whoever rents it will have to use the main house for that, meaning I’m going to have to be picky about who I let in—assuming I actually have any interest. The extra income would be nice, but I know myself; every cent I make I’ll pour right back into my animals.

  The flyer still looks just like it did when I put it up last week. I check my number and email to make sure I didn’t make any typos, but it’s all good. Guess no one in this town needs a place to live.

  Except Jared, of course.

  I haven’t even brought it up with him because I know him. I know he’ll be weird about it, I know he’ll balk at the idea of being beholden to me or imposing on me, or whatever else he comes up with. He’s difficult when he wants to be and with decades of friendship, I’ve learned to pick my battles. And I’ve learned to show up with coffee.

  I’m anxious to see him again, heart racing as soon as I knock on his door. I wait and listen, but don’t hear anything. I knock again, then turn to scan the parking lot.

  I don’t see his bike anywhere. Maybe he’s not here.

  Did he forget our plans?

  I knock one last time, even though I’m sure he’s not here now, and turn to leave.

  Where else would he be? Maybe he got called into the station for something and didn’t have a chance to let me know?

  He could at least give me the key and I could try to bleach his walls myself. Hell, it’s probably better for him if I do it while he’s not around. I’ll just go by the station and point that out to him. He might be stubborn, but he’s not normally unreasonable.

  I spot his bike in the parking lot of the police station and start to breathe a little easier right away. My coffee is just about gone, so I’m just carrying the one for Jared when I walk in, the station a complete racket of phones ringing layered with a dozen voices. I haven’t been here since Jared’s big ceremony, so I just stop inside the doors, trying to remember which way to go.

  “Hey, Hunter, right?” asks a uniformed officer: C. Sanchez. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him. “Looking for the Chief?”

  “How’d you know?”

  He taps his nose, smiling. “He’s in his office, come on,” he says, waving for me to follow.

  “Is everything okay? We were supposed to meet at his place today and—”

  The officer stops and pulls me to the side of the hallway, his face serious.

  “He probably wouldn’t like me telling you, but he’s been sleeping here for the past week. I’ve mentioned the place you’re renting to him a couple of times, but he’s n
ot listening and it’s starting to take a toll. Not that he’ll ever admit that…”

  “Of course not,” I mutter back, looking at his badge again. C. Sanchez… Cody. Jared’s old partner. That explains why he knows him so well.

  Cody shakes his head. “If I had the space to do it, I’d tell him to stay with me, but with the wife and kids, there’s just no room. Pretty soon my mother-in-law is moving in with us, and… Well, you get the idea. It wouldn’t be a good scene,” he sighs, shoulders slumping as he stops in front of the door with Jared’s name on it.

  There’s a narrow window by the door, frosted to obscure the interior, but I can just make out the shadowy shapes of furniture inside.

  Cody knocks, and I see one of those shadowy shapes moving, standing.

  “Chief? Someone’s here to see you,” Cody says. He turns to look back at me with a sad smile. “Good luck,” he says under his breath before leaving.

  It’s another half a minute before Jared opens the door, blinking through the space, hair disheveled, his body barely blocking the makeshift cot he’s made on the futon in his office. I don’t remember that futon being in here before; it seems like he’s really made a nice little camp for himself in here.

  “Hunter?” he mutters, rubbing sleep from his eyes, still out of it. “What’re you doing—shit, you were coming over to help today, weren’t you?” he groans, stepping back from the door to let me in.

  “Coffee?” I offer, following him in. “It was a lot hotter half an hour ago, but…” I shrug, and he groans again.

  “I’m sorry Hunter. I don’t know how I forgot about it,” he mumbles, taking the coffee before he slumps onto the futon, hastily trying to shove all his bedding aside. He’s not fooling anyone in his t-shirt and sweatpants, work clothes hung from a filing cabinet.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I challenge, skipping the bullshit and all the dancing around.

  “I work here,” Jared says without missing a beat.

  “Yeah, and now you’re apparently sleeping here too? Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad at your place? I’ve got that whole space above the garage that could be yours—”