by Amy Starling
“Look, Hank. I made some mistakes. Yeah, I'll admit it. But it's nothing we can't work around, is it? Just put me on probation or something.”
His jaw set. “We've already done that. Twice. I told you if something like this happened one more time, you were done. You knew that.”
I hated the way he talked to me, like I was some bratty teenager and he was gonna take away my car keys. Anger boiled inside me, but I couldn't let it out, not this time. Adding assault charges to my record was the dumbest thing I could do right now.
“You're giving the Waco Fire Department a bad name, son. Your little 'incident' was all over the news and the internet too. They got video of our truck, crashed through the front of a store. People are talking, and it's not good.”
Desperation was not something I often felt or would ever admit to. Right now, thought, I was desperate. I needed to keep this job. Not just for the money.
If Hank let me go, what other point did my life have?
“Man, please.” I clamped my hand down on his shoulder. “I'll do anything. You want me to pay off the guy's hospital bills? Fine. I'll make a public apology on TV if need be.”
Hank jerked away from me. “Sorry, Max. If we don't let you go, it'll look bad for us. The public will see us as corrupt, willing to sweep just about anything under the rug for one of our own.”
“If you ask me, that's how it should be. We're family, aren't we?”
He looked out the window again. His lip wavered.
“Gather your things and leave, please. You'll get your last check in the mail.”
I fled from the office with a furious growl, shoving the door open so violently it put a hole in the wall behind it. Surprisingly, Hank didn't yell at me for it. He didn't even look at me.
That's what pissed me off the most.
Five years I'd given to this place, and this was how they repaid me? I made a couple of mistakes, but that was nothing compared to all the good I'd done.
I rescued people from burning buildings. Stopped flames from turning families' houses into cinders and ash. I walked through fucking fire to save the lives of those kids. Had scars all over my body to prove what I'd done, to show the sacrifices I was willing to make.
But all it took was a couple of slip-ups, and suddenly, those sacrifices meant nothing.
I stormed to my desk. It was covered with messes of paperwork and fast-food wrappers. A dusty photo frame perched on the corner. I picked it up and brushed away the dirt.
It was a picture of me and the boys on my twenty-third birthday a few years back. We took a trip to Vegas together; I'd never forget it. They were my family. My best friends.
I knew what would happen. Once I was gone, they'd eventually forget about me. Someone new would come to take my place. They'd stop calling. Stop inviting me out with them. I wouldn't matter anymore.
“Hey, Max. What's wrong, man?”
Jayce had come up behind me. God, how he'd changed this past year. Used to love partying and picking up chicks with us. We'd been friends for ages, and I was pretty sure nobody knew me better than him.
Thought he'd never change, but then he stunned us all by falling in love. Now he's a married man with a kid. No more parties, no more hunting for girls together at the clubs.
I had to admit, it was real lonely without him.
“What's wrong?” I laughed. “Hank just canned me, that's what.”
His smile faded. “Oh. For that thing last week, huh?”
“I know what you're going to say. You're gonna scold me and tell me what a screw-up I am.” I shoved my things into an empty Taco Bueno bag. “Please, don't rub it in. I already know.”
He slung an arm around my shoulders. “So you screwed up. Doesn't mean you are a screw-up. You just made some... pretty bad judgment calls.”
“Try telling Hank that. Asshole says he can't possibly let me stay. That it would be bad for our image or something.”
“Well, you did drive a truck through Derek's antique store.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “And you weren't exactly sober at the time.”
“I was sober enough to get those girls in the backseat. It was gonna be awesome – the two of them, me, Brett... I mean, they were kissing all over each other! Who wouldn't crash their car watching a display like that?”
Jayce sighed and rubbed his temples. Normally, he would have been cheering me on. He'd have been right there in the bar with me, smooth-talking those chicks into dropping their panties with a snap of his fingers.
“You know what I'm going to say, don't you?”
“Yeah. You're gonna tell me I need to grow up and stop screwing a different girl every couple of nights. Not gonna happen, buddy.”
“I'm not telling you to settle down with one woman. Just maybe slow it down a bit, huh?”
I laughed, as if that could hide the bitterness inside me.
“I have slowed down. Used to get laid a lot more often when I had you as my wing man. Don't you ever miss those days?”
He fiddled with the gold wedding band on his finger. “Not really. I love Elle and Ethan more than anything in the world. They mean way more to me than some stupid one-night stand.”
“You're just saying that 'cause you forgot how awesome it was.”
“It was awesome – for a while. But then it just started to feel so empty and meaningless. Maybe one day, you'll feel the same.”
“I can assure you that I never will.”
The alarm sounded suddenly, making both of us jump. For a moment I moved instinctively, reaching for my jacket like I always did, ready to pounce into the truck and go put out some fires.
Then it hit me. I wasn't welcome on that truck anymore.
Jayce backed away slowly. “Guess I've got to go. Maybe I'll give you a call later and we can grab dinner or something.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
I watched the guys pile into vehicles as I finished stuffing my things in the bag. Anger rose up in me when they drove away, leaving me behind. Anger – and sadness, too.
It wasn't even ten in the morning, but I sped home, fully intending to clear out all the beer in the fridge. Maybe I'd start on that bottle of vodka under the sink, if need be.
“Hank, that asshole.” I popped open a frosty Shiner Bock and sank into my easy chair. “He'll realize what an asset he's lost soon enough. Yeah, he'll be calling me back any minute now, I bet.”
Just as I flipped on the TV and took my first merciful sip of booze, the phone rang. My heart pounded. I checked the caller ID.
But it wasn't the department. Not Hank, calling to tell me he'd made a mistake, that he changed his mind and they needed me.
It was my brother.
I had a nice, big gulp of my drink. Talking to him meant I was going to need it.
“Trey, man. Haven't heard from you in a long time.”
Trey sighed. “Well, you know how life gets in the way. I'm glad you picked up. Thought you might be at work.”
“Uh, not today. I'm kind of on... an extended vacation.”
No point telling him I'd gotten fired for my drunken carousing. The guy would lecture me even more than Jayce. The last thing I needed was to hear what a loser I was all over again.
“A vacation? That's great. I'm actually calling 'cause I could really use your help.”
“Ah, of course. You only contact me when you need something. I should have guessed.”
The beer was already empty? Thank goodness I had a shelf full in the fridge and a twenty-four pack in the carport.
“This is serious. Have you been watching the news? The hot and dry season is kicking into full gear out here. They're saying it could be the worst year on record for wildfires.”
No, I had not been watching the news. Couldn't stand seeing my face on TV as the cops shoved me to the ground like a criminal.
“That sucks. I dunno why you're still living out there, honestly. It's so damn dry, somebody drops a cigarette in a bush and every tree in a fifty-mile radius burns to the ground.”
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“I'm still living here,” he said slowly, “because Bastrop is home. It's where we grew up.”
I snorted. “Who wants to live in a backwater town like that? Barely any bars, nothing to do. And the selection of women, I'm sure, leaves plenty to be desired. I'd die of boredom.”
I could practically feel Trey seething through the phone. I'd packed up and moved to Waco soon as I graduated high school. Trey had always been the family favorite, so why bother sticking around?
“I didn't call to argue, Max. Our local fire department's running on a skeleton crew this year. Nothing but volunteers, you know. Fire season's about to hit us, and it's gonna hit hard. We could really use an extra pair of hands.”
I sat up in my chair. “What are you saying?”
“Well, I know you bought that RV a while back. You kept talking about going on that road trip. Remember?”
How could I forget? That was the trip Jayce and I were supposed to take together. We were gonna drive to the west coast and have the time of our lives. Apparently, having a wife and kid disqualified him from having fun anymore.
“I thought maybe if you had some free time, you could come down for a couple weeks and help us out.”
“Help what? Put out wildfires? I got no experience with that kind of thing.”
“They'll teach you. You already have the basics down. Trust me, you're far ahead of most of the other volunteers.”
I laughed at him. “Why do you sound so desperate? This isn't the only reason you want me there, is it?”
He quieted. “No. I'd like to see you. You haven't been back here since...”
“There's a reason for that. You damn well know why, so don't ask.”
“If it's about mom and dad, they moved away. They're living in their home in Cancun now, so you won't have to see them.”
“They moved without telling me?”
“They probably figured you wouldn't care. You haven't called them in years.”
Did I care? No, not really. It just kind of hurt, being left out of the loop like that.
“So what do you say? Come on down, pay your brother a visit and help your hometown put out some fires, too. You won't get paid, but you'll earn a load of good karma.”
I almost said no. I wasn't in the mood for this crap, not right now.
But what about my trip to California? I never went because I never had enough time. Now that I lacked a job, I had all the time in the world.
Bastrop was about two hours south. I could stop in, say hello to Trey, and be on my way. Better that than wasting away here in my living room as I wallowed in self pity over my mistakes.
“I'll think about it.”
“Aw, come on. It'll be like old times. Remember how we used to raft in the Colorado River? Perfect weather for it right now.”
“You bring the beer and then maybe we got a deal.”
“Shiner?”
“Always.”
“You've got it.” His smile was audible. “Just get down here quick, if you can. If the wildfires get bad enough, they might start closing the roads and evacuating folks.”
“Sounds like my dream vacation.”
We hung up, and I sat there for a while, rolling the empty beer bottle from hand to hand. What had I just gotten myself into?
I'd just lost my job, and it wasn't coming back. I needed direction. A sign, something to point me which way I should go next. Not that I was one to believe in such hokey nonsense, but...
Maybe I still had a purpose in life after all.
Chapter 3 - Anna
The chickens weren't happy, and neither was I. No shade, no water, temperature inching up to near 98. Waves of heat rippled off the blacktop as I gazed into the abyss beneath the truck's hood.
Staring at the smoking parts did not, unfortunately, make the vehicle come to life again.
“You old piece of crap.” I kicked the tire. “You want me to send you to the junkyard?”
Threatening it didn't work either.
The hens, safe but annoyed in their cramped crates, clucked their disapproval. One poked its little white head through the slats in the box. She studied me with beady eyes.
“Sorry, girl. This was just supposed to be a short trip. We'll be there soon – I hope.”
Or not. I'd had the bad luck to break down on a side road just west of Highway 95. There was too much traffic for my liking on the main freeway, so clever me, I thought I'd take a detour and come out ahead a little quicker.
Too bad my “detour” was an empty stretch of farm road with miles of fields rolling in every direction. In the distance, I spotted a tractor. No other cars had come through here in the past fifteen minutes.
There was no cell phone service, either. I even climbed up on the truck's roof just to be sure. Calling for help was out of the question.
In my tummy, I thought I felt the baby kick. Could babies kick at three months? No idea. I'd been so stressed out lately, I totally neglected to keep up with that week-by-week growth chart the doctor gave me.
“I don't think anyone's coming, guys.” I patted my belly. “Looks like we'd better start walking.”
Leaving the truck made me anxious, but I couldn't just stand here roasting any longer. The heat made me queasy and, like an idiot, I'd forgotten to bring any water.
I told the chickens I'd be back and headed for the highway. What would I do when I got there? This wasn't like flagging down taxis in New York. I had no clue how to get a driver to stop for me. Hopefully, whoever did stop wasn't a serial killer.
The highway wasn't very far, so I reached it in about ten minutes. Too bad there were few cars on it. I stood well to the side of the road, waving my arms around in the air to nab their attention. Nobody even slowed down.
“C'mon, people! If one of you doesn't help me, my birds will be roasted chicken dinner by the time I get back.”
After several minutes of waiting, my bladder started to ache. Being pregnant meant I had to pee a lot more. Of course, there were no restrooms out here – not even a bush to do my business behind.
I pranced from foot to foot and tried to distract myself with other matters. I thought of how many pounds of okra I ought to bring to the market on Saturday. I thought of the barn roof, which had a smattering of holes needing repaired after last month's hail storm.
But no matter what I tried to set my mind to, it kept veering back to one thing: what an asshole Rich was for ditching me after he knocked me up.
“That prick.” I kicked a rock into the dusty road. “That's the last time I get involved with a man for a good, long while.”
Then a big RV sped over the ridge in my direction. Desperate, I considered flinging myself into the road and forcing the driver to stop. Instead, I hollered for help and waved madly. To my shock, the RV began to brake.
“Is it stopping? Oh, thank God.”
There was probably a toilet in there, too. Ahh, my prayers had been answered. I couldn't hold it another minute.
The vehicle stopped a few feet ahead of me. The door slid open, and out stepped a man I hoped I'd never see again.
His eyes met mine, and we recognized each other instantly. Over a decade had passed, but he looked almost exactly the same. The only difference was the startling scars covering the left side of his still-handsome face.
“Anna Southwell.” He whistled. “I remember you. It's been, what – eleven years?”
“Yes, I guess it has.”
Of all the men in the world who drove down this road, why did Max have to be the one who stopped for me? Well, at least he bothered to stop at all, unlike everyone else who breezed on by without a care. A decade was a long time. Maybe he had changed for the better.
Then he looked me up and down. A wide grin spread quick across his face. It made me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. It was a real shame, wasn't it, that the sexiest guys had to be such assholes.
Not that I should be thinking about sex, anyhow. Not anymore. That was exactly what got m
e into this very pregnant predicament.
“You look amazing. Time sure has been kind to you.”
His sweet words, said in that southern-boy drawl, made me blush. I certainly did not look amazing. I'd just walked several miles in the blistering Texas heat. I was drenched with sweat, hair a frizzy mess, and probably had chicken crap on my clothes somewhere.
“Thanks, I guess.” I eyed him suspiciously. What had happened to his cheek? “You stopped for me, so I suppose that means you're willing to help?”
He grinned wider. “Well, now that depends what kind of help you're talking about.”
Why wouldn't my heart stop hammering so loudly? Back in the day, I'd never been one of his conquests. Sure, he put the moves on me, like he did every girl in school. And I'd heard plenty from them about his, um... generous physical endowment, to put it nicely.
But I didn't want to be a fling nor his flavor of the week. I turned him down. Boy, he didn't like that. Wasn't used to hearing the word no. I had to wonder if he remembered it at all.
“It's my truck.” I pointed down the long side road. “Died on me. I was on the way to a farm up in Taylor to deliver some chickens –”
“Wait.” He held up his hand. “Did you say you had chickens... in your truck?”
“In the bed, yeah. I sell laying hens to local farms. They're out there right now, baking in the sun. I gotta get them moving before it's too late.”
He licked his lips. “Hmm. I've been on the road for hours and haven't eaten lunch yet. Baked chicken sounds delicious. You got any barbecue sauce?”
I growled and shoved him. So much for time changing a man. Now, just like back then, he had a joke at the ready no matter how tactless or inappropriate.
“Aw, lighten up, Anna. You're as serious as you always were.” His hand settled on my lower back. “Get in and I'll see what I can do.”
His touch was firm and sure, like the touch of a man in charge. Suddenly, in spite of myself, I wanted to know what he'd been up to all these years.
Didn't help that whenever he looked at me, I felt those butterflies in my belly, like I was some high-school girl with a silly crush.
I climbed into his camper, half expecting the thing to be full of trash and smell of cigarette smoke. But though the vehicle was clearly kind of old, he'd kept it in good shape. The windows were clean; the vinyl seats looked like they'd just been polished to a shine. I only hoped he kept the bathroom in as decent condition.