This Time (The DeLuca Family Book 4)

by Amy Reece

“Hey.” He set his mug and half-eaten cookie on the coffee table and slid next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “It’s okay, Nina. Listen, you’ve been busy raising your kids by yourself for the last year. That’s a lot to deal with.”

  She sniffed and allowed herself to melt against his warm body. Just for a minute. “I should have known.”

  “I should have too, but I didn’t have a clue. Blaming ourselves isn’t going to help, though. Your family needs you to be strong, hon. Kira is a mess, and I’m sure your parents aren’t going to be a whole lot better.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be the strong one.” She whispered the words, knowing what she wanted made no difference at the moment.

  He squeezed her gently. “I know. It sucks, but you can do it. And I’ll help any way I can.”

  She forced herself to pull away and reached for a tissue from the box on the table, which she’d placed there earlier in the evening and had utilized liberally, along with Nick and Kira. “You’ve already done so much. Thanks again for taking care of the girls tonight. I can’t tell you how much it helped.”

  “Of course. It was no problem. You don’t have to do everything by yourself, Nina.” He reached for her hand. “You want me to stay here tonight?”

  Yes. “No, that’s not necessary. You have to work tomorrow, and you need a good night’s sleep in your own bed.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

  Please stay. Please don’t listen to my words; listen to my heart. “I’m sure. Go home and get some rest.”

  He smiled and squeezed her hand. “All right, but I’ll keep my phone next to the bed. Call if you need anything or even if you just want to talk. Promise?”

  “Promise.” She wouldn’t call of course; she wouldn’t dream of waking him.

  “My shift is twenty-four hours, but then I have forty-eight off and I can help with whatever you need.” He reached for the door knob. “Let me know when you find out about your parents’ arrival, okay?”

  “I will. Goodnight, Seamus. Thanks.” She locked up after him, then leaned against the front door as loneliness swamped her, taking her breath away. I don’t have time for this! I’ve been doing fine all by myself for well over a year and I’ll continue to deal with it. She straightened and walked through the house, turning off lights as she made her way to her bedroom.

  Chapter Five

  Seamus

  “Davis and Greerson have bathrooms; DeLuca and Baca, you’ve got KP. Last shift had a call and wasn’t able to restock, so you two will have to make a Costco run. That’s it. Let’s get to work.” Captain Diaz closed his laptop and rose. Technically, they’d all been at work for two hours already, washing the engines and checking their personal gear carefully, making any necessary small repairs and requisitioning new items as needed. It was the first thing they did at the beginning of each shift to be ready for a call at any moment. Clean bathrooms and a well-stocked kitchen were nice, but definitely secondary in importance.

  “Well, it’s better than scrubbing toilets.” Jon Baca lightly punched Seamus’s shoulder. He turned to Shella Greerson and Brandon Davis. “Suckers!” He laughed good-naturedly as Shella flashed him her middle finger.

  “True. Let’s make a list and head out before we get a call.” Seamus much preferred kitchen duty to bathroom cleaning; if his fellow firefighters could actually manage to piss in the toilet instead of around it and all over the floor, it might not be so bad. “We’ll have to squeeze in our workout after lunch.” Each firefighter was required to spend an hour of each twenty-four shift in the station gym, unless they were hammered with calls that would prevent them from working out.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Jon fell into step beside him as they made their way from the conference room to the kitchen. “You doing okay, man?”

  Seamus had called Jon the day before to let him know what had happened with Neal. He and Jon had planned to hang out in the evening, but Seamus hadn’t wanted to leave Nina, so he’d cancelled all his social plans. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I’m managing. Nina’s having a rough time, though.”

  “That’s his sister, right?” Jon had met Neal on a few occasions and the two had gotten along pretty well, but he’d never had a chance to meet Nina.

  “Yeah. They’re twins.”

  “That sucks. I’m really sorry, Seamus. Is there anything I can do?”

  He glanced down at his friend with a crooked smile. He and Jon had gone through the academy together, bonding over the rigorous mental and physical challenges of learning to be a firefighter. They’d become good friends and lucked out when they were assigned to the same station. They frequently managed to pull the same shifts, and Captain Diaz was usually happy to team them up for station chores since they worked so well together. They used to spend more of their free time together, but Jon had recently become a father and now—understandably—devoted most of his off-duty time to his wife and new baby. Seamus was happy for his friend, but as a result, had found himself spending more time with Neal since Jon’s daughter had been born. His other best friend, his younger brother Tony, was also recently unavailable to hang out, since he’d graduated with his bachelor’s degree last May and then shocked everyone by announcing he had been accepted to veterinary school at Eastern New Mexico University in Portales, four hours east of Albuquerque. The entire family had assumed Tony would eventually scrape through college and go to work for their older brother, Hugh, in the family construction business. The little asshole hadn’t bothered to mention to anyone that not only was he not majoring in business, but he was doing a whole lot better than ‘scraping by.’ It wasn’t until the family were all seated in the Pit—as the university basketball arena was lovingly known—and they searched through the many columns of names in the program for Tony’s, that they’d seen the italicized words beside his name: B.S. Biology magna cum laude.

  “That little shit.” Hugh chuckled to his right. “He didn’t tell you?”

  Seamus shook his head. “Nope.” But he hadn’t asked, either. He should have known, though. Tony had spent way more time studying than any of them expected and Seamus had noticed all the massive science textbooks lying around Tony’s apartment. But he’d never bothered to ask deep questions about his little brother’s education, assuming he was fully living up to his playboy reputation.

  Tony had dropped the bomb later that day at his graduation party: he would be moving to Portales in a few weeks to start veterinary school, and had qualified for an internship which paid tuition and even some living expenses.

  So, Seamus had, within a few months of each other, lost regular access to two of his best friends and found himself a bit adrift. He was a naturally social person and didn’t care to spend much time alone. The two main people left in his social circle were Sloane and Neal, and lately spending time with Sloane was more frustrating than anything else. So, he’d turned to Neal and the two of them had recovered much of their earlier friendship, remembering why they’d been such good friends throughout middle school and high school. I thought I knew him, especially lately. How could I have missed his depression? He’d been asking himself the same question for days, ever since Finn had woken him with the awful news of Neal’s death.

  “Which do you want, Seamus?”

  He pulled himself back to the present, realizing he’d missed what Jon had asked him. “Sorry, what?”

  “It’s okay. You want to write the list or check the cabinets and fridge?”

  Seamus hated the sympathetic look on his friend’s face; he shrugged his shoulders and squared his jaw. Enough. Focus on doing your job right now. “You write. I’ll do the inventory.” They’d made it to the kitchen and Seamus began looking through the various cabinets, pantry, and refrigerator, calling out items they needed to Jon. It had been more than a week since any of the shifts had managed to make a full Costco run, so the list was lengthy. Seamus was glad for the mundane chore; it required a cer
tain level of concentration as they decided what needed to be restocked and what ingredients they would purchase for lunch and dinner. Each shift tried to eat at least one meal together if they weren’t out on a call. These guys—and girl, since Shella had joined their station last year—were more than colleagues. They were a sort of family, and eating together was an important family ritual. Seamus actually liked kitchen duty and was a fair, though limited, cook. He enjoyed cooking for his friends and girlfriend, but Sloane preferred to go out and usually insisted eating somewhere pricey with the kind of fancy-schmancy gourmet food Seamus hated. They’d fought about it a few times—they seemed to fight about everything lately—since Seamus had some old-fashioned notions about who should pay for the meal when they were on a date. Sloane made a hell of a lot more money than he did, though, and had no problem taking care of the check, often laughing about how old-fashioned he was. He knew he should be more enlightened in this day and age, but it went against the grain to let a woman pay for his meal.

  “Check the milk.”

  Seamus did and told Jon to add two gallons to the list. “That should do it. Let’s get going and hope we can get the shopping done before we get called out. They took Jon’s pickup and were soon loading a large orange cart full of food at Costco. The appreciative looks from the female shoppers merely amused him after five years on the job. He knew two fit, muscular guys in fire department t-shirts tended to draw some attention, especially since Jon was—according to his sister, Cara—really hot. She assured Seamus he was too, but he’d simply rolled his eyes. He knew he was decent-looking, but Finn was the handsome one in their family. The rest of the boys were merely average in comparison. They managed to finish and get back to the station in under an hour and had the groceries unloaded—his least favorite part of the job—and lunch on the table by noon.

  It was a quiet afternoon and Seamus was glad to be back to the structure and familiarity of the station after the past few days of grief and chaos. He and Jon spent a punishing hour in the gym after lunch, then showered and did paperwork for a few hours. He was glad for the down time so he could put the finishing touches on his application to arson training, something he’d wanted to do ever since he studied fire science in college. He had finished the requisite five years on the job last month and had lost no time downloading the information and application. He loved being a regular firefighter, but he knew he belonged on the arson investigation team. He hoped to make it in his first time applying, but had determined he would continue to apply every year until he did. He took a few minutes to send a quick text message to Nina, just to see how she was faring her first day back at work. She didn’t respond right away. It was nearly thirty minutes later when she sent back a brief reply, assuring him she was fine and relieved to be busy. She hoped he would stop by on his day off. He smiled as he shoved the phone into his back pocket and turned his attention back to his application. They had a short call mid-afternoon for a brush fire along the Bosque—most likely started by one of the many homeless people who camped in the forest area next to the Rio Grande River, but were back at the station in under two hours. He and Jon had decided to fix pasta for dinner—always a favorite around the station—and were soon setting the huge bowl of spaghetti, hot garlic bread, and a big salad on the long, Formica-topped table.

  “God, Seamus! Your marinara is to die for!” Shella spoke through a mouthful of pasta. “I’ll marry you right now if you swear to do all the cooking!”

  He reached for the salad and piled it on his plate as he answered her. “Tempting, Shel, but I’m afraid your husband might kick my ass.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure he’d understand if he tasted this. We could probably work something out. Sloane is one lucky bitch!”

  “Sloane doesn’t eat carbs.” He helped himself to more pasta.

  The look of disgust on Shella’s face was priceless. “Ugh! What does she eat? Lettuce?”

  “Pretty much.” He desperately wanted to turn the conversation away from his troubled relationship. “Anyone up for some pool after dinner?” They’d had a pool table donated to the station and found it helped pass the long evening hours when there were no emergencies that called them away. “Loser buys a round next time we’re out for beers.”

  “You’re on.” Captain Diaz forked a huge mouthful of pasta into his mouth. “This really is great sauce. Any chance you’d give my wife the recipe?”

  “My grandmother’s secret marinara recipe that she smuggled out of Italy right under the nose of General Franco in 1941?”

  “You are so full of shit, DeLuca, and you suck at history! Franco was in Spain, not Italy. I think you mean Mussolini. You probably got it out of your Betty Crocker cookbook!” Brandon Davis laughed and reached for more bread.

  “Be nice or you’ll never know. Sure, Captain, I’ll give your wife the recipe, but it’s not the same if an Italian doesn’t make it.”

  “I’m sure it’s not, but I appreciate the gesture anyway.”

  He and Jon cleaned up the kitchen then joined the rest of the crew in the rec room for a few hours of television and pool, enjoying the relative relaxation that came with few calls throughout the shift. They headed to bed around eleven and Seamus hoped he would be able to catch up on some of the sleep he’d missed the past few nights since Neal’s death. He should have known better. The alarm rang at 1:30, jarring them all out of sleep. The loudspeaker announced a multiple-alarm fire at an apartment complex as Seamus and the rest of his crew hastened to don their pants and boots before sliding down the pole and grabbing the rest of their equipment. Seamus swung himself up into the engine and took his seat behind the engineer, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes and clear his head for the job ahead. The adrenaline was starting to kick in and would hopefully keep him going through the night.

  When their engines pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, his stomach clenched in horror at the sight in front of him.

  “Oh, shit,” Jon murmured beside him. “The whole place is on fire!”

  Seamus grimaced as he followed his friend out of the engine. Jon was right: the entire complex was ablaze, and Seamus knew they had a long, hard fight in front of them. The parking lot was full of engines, paramedic units, and people in pajamas milling around, many crying, some holding shaking pets; all looked lost and confused. He and Jon fastened their oxygen masks in place and headed into the complex to check for residents who hadn’t been able to get out. He prayed they wouldn’t find any bodies.

  Three hours later, they pulled off their masks and sat on the curb, gulping water from the bottles they kept in the truck. His entire body was soaked with sweat and he had a nasty burn on his left forearm where a ceiling beam had crashed down, narrowly missing his head. It had burned through his outer coat and caused a painful, three-inch long welt.

  “You should have Shella look at that before we leave.”

  “It can wait until we get back to the station.” He took another long pull from his water bottle, then poured the rest over his head. “She’s still swamped with smoke inhalation vics.” He looked across the lot to where Shella and Brandon, the two paramedics attached to their station, were working over patients. They rested for a few more minutes before finally heaving to their feet and walking back to see if they could help the rest of their crew as they dealt with the smoldering remains of what was once an apartment complex.

  ***

  Nina

  “Remember to read the Turner thesis by next Monday. And don’t forget about the midterm next Wednesday.” A wave of groans greeted her words as the students rose from their seats in the classroom. “The thesis is only ninety pages, people. Stop whining.” Soft laughter followed.

  “Sorry, Dr. Braden. It’s like we’re hard-wired to complain about homework.” Greg was the type of student who always sat in the front and raised his hand to ask questions at least ten times per lecture. He usually managed to work the word “trope” into at least fifty percent of his comments. The pretentious
little ass drove Nina crazy.

  “Hey, nobody’s forcing you to take this class.” She gathered the stack of papers the class had turned in as she spoke. She glanced up at the awkward silence and noticed the remaining students staring at her wide-eyed. They dropped their eyes and shuffled nervously as she watched. Crap. I guess I was a bit harsh. She shrugged and finished packing her belongings. “Sorry, guys. It’s been a rough couple of days. I’ll see you all Friday.” She left them standing at the front of the room and knew good and well they would be gossiping about her as soon as the door shut behind her. I am definitely off my game today. She stopped by the student union building food court for a cup of coffee and a bagel, hoping the caffeine and food would help clear her head. She ate as she walked across the open area between the SUB and Mesa Vista Hall, the crappiest and least updated building on campus and the home of the history department. Nina’s office had almost certainly begun life as a broom closet; some days she could swear she still smelled the cleaning products. The building itself was a relic of the 1940s, with grimy windows and anemic heating and cooling. Nina loved every square inch of it. She’d scarcely dreamed of securing a teaching post at the same institution where she’d done her doctoral work, but David had used his connections and status as a best-selling author to make it happen. It went against the grain for Nina, but David had, as always, down-played her concerns, certain he knew better than she. He could be such an insufferable asshole at times.

  But he’d been sophisticated and charming once, a long time ago when Nina was a first-year grad student. She’d taken his anthropology seminar because she’d needed an elective and thought it sounded interesting. He’d asked her out for drinks a few weeks into the semester and proceeded to sweep her off her feet with his larger-than-life grand gestures and expensive tastes. She’d recently broken up with her long-term college boyfriend and was stupidly susceptible to the charms of the much older man. She’d let herself be talked into sleeping with him before they’d been dating a full month and had found out a week later that he was married. He’d claimed they were separated and he was planning to file for a divorce, and she let herself believe him. God, I was such an idiot.