Gunnar's Guardian

by Pandora Pine

  Ozzy shot me a yeah-right look. “I practically threw him to the wolves. Told him he would only get one chance and then sent him off to wash the engines with no instructions.”

  I snorted. I’d heard from other recruits and rookies what a task master Ozzy was. There was no way in hell I would ever work for him. We’d be at each other’s throats within the first ten minutes. “That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?”

  Ozzy devoured half of his second muffin in one huge bite. “Nope! I knew if the kid was humble and admitted what he didn’t know, people would help him. Lo and behold, someone did help him.” Ozzy took another bite. “And, if I were you, I’d stake my claim on that boy while the staking is good.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Staking my claim? My brother had definitely gone off the deep end.

  “I’ve got two words for you, little brother.” Ozzy’s left eyebrow lifted toward his hairline. “Hal Rossi.”

  “I just saw him yesterday.” He’d been one of the EMTs who’d saved Ella.

  Ozzy’s left brow shot sky high. “That’s all you have to say about Hal? Christ, if you don’t think that man is the handsomest fucker on earth, I’ll eat my napkin.”

  Of course I thought Hal was handsome. With his dark hair and his easygoing manner, the man was an absolute ten. He reminded me of a young Robert DeNiro, minus the large birthmark on his cheek. I did remember joking with Ozzy about wanting to find out where Hal’s birthmark was. “He’s cute.”

  “Cute?” Ozzy waved a dismissive hand at me. “You’ve lost your fool mind and you’re about to lose your boy too. He and Hal spent the entire day working together yesterday.”

  That gave me pause. Momentarily. “Until you hired Gunnar, Hal was your last newbie. All the things you’d saddled Hal with, in addition to his actual duties now went to Gunnar. He’s the kind of guy who would appreciate that and do what he could to help out the new newbie.” I hoped.

  “Jesus, Pollyanna. No one is that altruistic. People do things for other people because of what’s in it for them. Hal helped Gunnar because he’s interested in him.” Ozzy took a sip from his coffee cup. His eyes never left mine.

  Anger was roiling in my gut. “Why is this so important to you? Jesus, Christ, Ozzy! If you’re that bored, go out and get yourself a twink for the night.”

  “Is that what you think this about? Me being bored.” He stood up from the table gathering the muffin wrappers and his cup of coffee. “When was the last time you had a meaningful connection with another human being, Kennedy? Not a one-night stand or small talk with the grocery store checkout person? Here I am, trying to help you out and you’re being a dick. There’s something between you and this kid and if you want to deny that, it’s on you. Later.” With those words, Ozzy was gone.

  I sighed as I watched him walk away from me. Was I being a dick? Yes. Was there something between me and Gunnar? Also, yes. The problem was that I had no idea what it was. One night I’m pushing him away from me and the next night, I’m the one pulling him close.

  Maybe there was something between me and the kid. All I knew at the moment was that I was more confused than I’d ever been over a man.

  12

  Gunnar

  An early morning text from Ozzy had me up at the ass-crack of dawn on my first day off in nearly a week. My boss wanted to see me at the station within the hour.

  I was in a near-panic. I’d showered as quickly as I could and practically flew down to the firehouse. Thank goodness I hadn’t been pulled over by the Gloucester P.D. I may have an unpaid parking ticket or three which would have complicated matters even further.

  After I parked the car, I took a few deep breaths to get myself back under control. The last thing I wanted to do was race into the station out of breath and asking where the fire was. When I was as calm as I was going to get under the circumstances, I got out of the Dodge and headed toward my doom.

  I’d thought my first week on the job had been a good one. I did everything that had been asked of me without lip or complaint. There had been so much to complain about. Cleaning the engines and helping Hal stock the ambulance was fine, but having to keep the shitters clean? Motherfucking eww. It had been on the tip of my tongue to ask the firefighters if they were shitting big on purpose this week. You know, saving it up for work. There was a constant stream of skid marks in the bowls. Somehow, I’d managed to keep my mouth shut.

  The only way I’d gotten through it was by singing the score to Wicked while I scrubbed the skids away. After day two of that, half the house had told me I was a dead man if they had to listen to Defying Gravity one more time. I stopped short of telling them they wouldn’t have to listen to my shitty Wicked if they stopped taking wicked shits.

  Aside from my penchant for showtunes, I couldn’t think of any other reason Ozzy would want to can me. I supposed I was about to find out.

  The bay doors of the firehouse were wide open. All three of the engines were gleaming in the morning sunshine. I walked past the lockers filled with turnout gear stowed neatly on pegs. I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the last time I’d walk into this building as part of the team. Part of the family.

  My stomach was twisted in knots and my heart hammered in my throat as I approached Ozzy’s door. When I worked up the courage to peek inside, his office was empty. Fuck. Fuck. And fuck again. Now what?

  “Hey, Noob! Up here!” a familiar and very jocular voice shouted. “Move your ass! These ribs ain’t gonna cook themselves.”

  When I looked up to the second floor, Ozzy was standing at the railing grinning down at me. Ribs? What the hell was he talking about?

  I hauled ass up the stairs. My mouth dropped open when I saw Ozzy. He was wearing a black apron with Kiss the Cook printed on it in red letters. On the counter near the stove were several racks of ribs and what looked like the entire spice aisle from the grocery store. “What is all of this?”

  “It’s Sunday!” Ozzy announced cheerfully.

  “On Sundays, we cook!” Hal Rossi said from behind me.

  “We do?” I was still feeling confused as fuck, but at least my doom didn’t seem as imminent as it had moments ago.

  “Yes, we do.” Ozzy was all smiles. “Now get over here and make the dry rub.”

  “Dry rub? What the hell is that? Sounds like a bargain basement hand job from a sleazy massage parlor.”

  Hal snorted behind me, but Ozzy looked like I’d just insulted his mother. “What’s a dry rub? You really are a caveman. If you can read, you can cook. At least that’s what my mother always told me. Get over here and read the recipe. Do you have any idea how to use measuring cups or spoons?”

  I had no fucking idea what Ozzy was talking about. My heart was still pounding. All that mattered was that I wasn’t getting fired. At least I thought I wasn’t. Maybe this was some kind of last meal like death row inmates got before they rode the lightning.

  Regardless of my measuring spoon knowledge, I did what Ozzy asked. There was a stained paper recipe sitting on the counter alongside the flock of spices. Cumin. Paprika. Garlic powder. Coriander. Cayenne. I didn’t know most of the words, but thankfully the jars were labeled.

  “Let me guess, you’ve never cooked with a recipe before.” Ozzy crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  “I’m more of a read the instructions on the box type.” I felt my lips curl into a smile. The boulder sitting on my chest loosened.

  “Uh, huh. Well, I’ll walk through it with you the first time. Next time, you’re on your own.”

  “Next time? You mean you’re not feeding me a last supper before cutting me loose?” My mouth hung open like a fish out of water.

  “Cutting you loose? What the hell are you talking about, kid?” Ozzy’s dark eyes seemed to be assessing me. Reading me. “You had a great first week. Everyone thought you’d be a stuck-up prick, but they all love working with you. Some of the guys have stopped by my office to tell me personally.”

  I was stunned
. My parents constantly told me how selfish I was growing up. I hadn’t had a lot of friends. Most kids my age were more interested in my parents’ money than they’d been in me. Here I was, though, popular and well-liked at my job. “I don’t know what to say to that.” I could feel my emotions rising.

  Ozzy set a hand on my shoulder. “I think you’ve found a home here.” His warm hand gave my shoulder a squeeze and then was gone.

  I had a feeling Mandy McCoy had said that exact sentence throughout Ozzy’s childhood. It gave me the warm fuzzies. I didn’t think I was a warm fuzzy kind of guy until I met these people.

  Slowly but surely, Ozzy and I worked together to make the dry rub. I got to be the one to mix all the spices together. Seeing all the different colored powers get dumped into the bowl, I wondered more than once how all of these things could come together into something that would taste good. Now that they were all combined, I was in heaven. It was hard to resist the temptation of sticking my finger in the bowl for a taste.

  “Now, we rub the meat.” Ozzy’s dark eyes glowed.

  “Excuse you?” a familiar voice said from behind us. I knew in an instant it was Kennedy.

  Ozzy started to laugh. He handed me transparent gloves. “Don’t let my brother fool you. He’s a meat rubbing champion! Gave himself Carpal Tunnel Syndrome when we were teenagers.”

  “Jesus Christ, Oz!” Kennedy blushed furiously.

  “Don’t be such a puritan. We’ve all been hand-to-gland combat champions at one time or another.” Ozzy donned a pair of gloves himself and scooped up a small handful of the dry rub.

  I watched him rub it on the first rack of ribs, but my head was somewhere else. All I could think about was Kennedy touching himself. How did he do it? Was it a race to the finish line? Did he take his time with long easy strokes? Or was it something in the middle, starting off slow and building at the end?

  “Kid?” Ozzy nudged my shoulder, breaking the spell.

  Fuck, I could feel the heat in my face and knew I was lobster-red, like Kennedy. “Yeah, I got it.”

  “You ever think another man would have to teach you how to rub your meat?” Hal Rossi asked. He was sitting at the main dining table across from Kennedy.

  “I never expected my education to be so thorough.” That was true. Ozzy was rubbing on those ribs like he was about to propose.

  “You’re missing the point of the dry rub.” Ozzy’s tone reminded me of the way you’d speak to a toddler.

  “Enlighten us, Master Bator.” Kennedy executed a perfect mock bow.

  “No ribs for you!” Ozzy pointed at his brother, with spices sprinkling from his gloved hand. He turned back to me with a some-people look on his face. “The ribs are going in the oven to roast low and slow. During that time, the rub will marry itself into the meat, flavoring it.”

  “I’m confused.” I heard Kennedy snort behind me. “Why do we rub the meat only to slather it in barbeque sauce?”

  “Since Kennedy seems to have all the answers, he can enlighten you.” Ozzy crossed his arms over his chest.

  “It builds the layers of flavor.” Kennedy rolled his eyes, acting as if he’d been schooled repeatedly on this very topic.

  “Very good.” The sass was obvious is Ozzy’s voice.

  “The two of you have such a great relationship.” I looked back and forth between them. Truth be told, I was a little jealous of the obvious love between the brothers. Being an only child had its plusses and minuses. The biggest minus was not having anyone with my same shared experiences. “Have you two always been this close?”

  The grin faded from Ozzy’s lips. I couldn’t help noticing how the look on Kennedy’s face turned equally serious. Oh shit, I must have really put my foot in it.

  “I was terrified of him,” Kennedy said softly.

  “I hated him on sight.” The same sad tone filled Ozzy’s voice.

  Oh, fuck. What had I done? My mouth fell open. For the first time in my life, I was at a literal loss for words.

  “Close your mouth, kid. You’ll let in flies.” Ozzy went back to rubbing the ribs with the spice blend. “Here’s a newsflash for you, the Brady Bunch isn’t real life. You don’t get sent to a new home with total strangers and everything is hunky-dory in thirty minutes. It sure as hell never worked that way for me and I was in four foster homes before I landed with the McCoys.”

  I felt my mouth start to drop open again. Until I had to bunk in with my friends over the last few months, I’d only had one home. In a very distant way, I had some idea of what the brothers had gone through bouncing from house to house after I’d been kicked out of my own, but that happened when I was twenty-one years old and was of my own doing. Ozzy and Kennedy had been little when they were put into the system.

  “Ozzy, Dallas, and Hennessey, of course, already lived in the house. I was the new kid on the block. The interloper, so to speak.” Kennedy stood up and started pacing around the dining area. “My mother had just been murdered by her boyfriend and right after they wheeled her body out on the gurney, I was being told to pack my things and was hustled out the door. Two hours later, I was being dropped on Mandy and David’s doorstep.”

  My left knee buckled, threatening to send me crashing to the floor. Thankfully, Ozzy grabbed my right arm and kept me on my feet.

  “Pull it together,” he whispered in a voice low enough that I was the only one who could hear him.

  Shit. What the hell did you say to that kind of story? “I’m so sorry, Kennedy. I had no idea.”

  Kennedy gave me a half-hearted shrug. “How could you have known? Anyway, when I was introduced to the McCoys it had already been the worst day of my life. I sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to make friends with total strangers. Plus, Ozzy had that scar and he was growling at me.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Kennedy! I’ve told you a million times, I wasn’t growling at you.”

  “He was growling,” Kennedy affirmed. “Ozzy wanted me to know he was the baddest bitch on the block.” Both men burst out laughing.

  “I was supposed to sleep in Hennessey’s room. Mandy and David always put the new kid in with him. I had no idea that Ozzy was so attached to the room. If I had known, I would have slept in the room with Dallas instead.” Kennedy waved a dismissive hand toward Ozzy. “I still have no idea why you liked sharing a room with Hen. He snored like a freight train even at the age of twelve.”

  Ozzy shrugged. “It was the first real room I had that was safe. I’d gone from house to house and none of them felt like a home until David and Mandy.”

  Kennedy sat down hard. “I had no idea. Shit, man, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Oh, you know how Mandy wanted us to be nice to the new kid. Make him feel welcome. Don’t make waves.”

  “You know, I heard that speech so many times while we lived there. It never crossed my mind that you all made sacrifices for me.” Kennedy looked humbled by his realization.

  Ozzy stepped away from the ribs, pulling his gloves off. He headed toward Kennedy, stopping a few feet in front of him. “I was really only mad about that bed for the first night.”

  “What changed your mind?” A grin played around Kennedy’s lips.

  “You mean aside from the fact that Dallas doesn’t snore?” Ozzy started to laugh. He pulled Kennedy into his arms for a hug. “Love you, little brother.”

  “Right back at you.” Kennedy mumbled.

  I was still dumbstruck by what I was hearing. Looking at Hal, I could see he was feeling the same way. Part of me wanted to cry for ten-year-old Kennedy and what he’d gone through. The other part wanted to hug him until my arms fell off.

  It just seemed so unfair, me growing up in the lap of luxury and Kennedy not having the most basic of comforts, a home, a mother, safety. I straightened my spine and went back to work preparing the food. There would be time to cry for that little boy later.

  13

  Kennedy

  My conversation with Ozzy and Gunnar left me feeling shaken. It wasn’t
very often I spoke about my childhood or the night I landed on the McCoy’s doorstep. I’d been a terrified little boy left in the care of complete strangers. Having to unpack that baggage in front of Gunnar, who’d never wanted for anything, was more emotional than I’d expected.

  Ordinarily, I would blow off questions about my time in foster care. If I had a nickel for every time I refused to talk about it, I would be the one living in August Prince’s mansion instead of my townhouse.

  Of course, it wasn’t any more Gunnar’s fault for the way he grew up than it was mine. But it made me feel less than, which twenty years later should have been ridiculous, but somehow wasn’t.

  After my brother finished hugging me, he’d gone back to Gunnar and put the meat in the oven. That’s not where his day in the kitchen ended. Ozzy handed him a potato peeler, which the kid had looked at like he wasn’t sure what the hell it was. That look was nothing compared to the utter shock on his face when Ozzy set a ten-pound bag of potatoes in front of him. I wish I’d had my phone out for that.

  After Gunnar peeled the potatoes, it was time to shred the cabbage and carrots for the coleslaw. He’d even made the dressing rather than using a bottled one. Next was the jalapeno corn bread, which was an adventure in itself when Gunnar touched his face after he’d cut the peppers.

  Last was the barbeque sauce. I knew instantly when Gunnar was gathering the ingredients that it was our mother’s secret recipe. The secret was that we all knew it had come from an old copy of the Woman’s Home Companion Cookbook.

  As the morning rolled on and Ozzy taught Gunnar to cook, I used that time to study him. He never backed away from a challenge or acted like any of this was beneath him. More importantly, he was giving as good as he got from Ozzy. My brother could be an intimidating S.O.B., something I learned well the night we met, but underneath that battle-worn shell was a heart of gold.

  While they continued to cook and bullshit each other, I grabbed plates and started to set the table. When I was finished, Gunnar studied each place setting before heading off to the can. I assumed he was memorizing the set up for next time.