by Emma Nichole
“I have friends here now too, Liv is great, and I just wanted a fresh start, Mom.”
“Any friends of the male variety catching your eye?”
“There have been a couple, but nothing to write home about. You know men, Mom, they generally suck.”
Isaac rounds the curve in the track, taking the long stretch that is beside the parking lot. I can see the well-defined muscles in his thighs and calves. He runs smoothly, with purpose and strength. It’s incredibly attractive.
“That’s not true at all. You just pick sucky ones.”
At that, I laugh. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Well, it’s true. Remember the biker, what’s his name?” I hear her snap her fingers, a habit she picked up when she is thinking hard on something. “With the skull tattoo on his hand.”
“Bobby.”
“That’s the one. I hated him.”
“Bobby was a mistake I quickly learned from, and I was nineteen years old. I was being a rebel, trying to piss you and Dad off as best I could.”
“It worked wonders. Thankfully, you didn’t make a mistake like that again.” I hear her sigh heavily then she speaks again, “Sawyer, I’m calling because I just wanted to talk. With Jason’s birthday next month, I’m starting to feel so… lost.”
I’ve tried to put his impending birthday out of my head. It’s the hardest day of the year. Even harder than the anniversary of his death. It’s like a punch in the gut thinking about the birth of someone who isn’t here anymore.
“You don’t have to explain. I understand. You can call me or FaceTime me, hell, or even come visit me, anytime you need to. You and Dad.”
I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to fight the tears threatening to fall.
“I’ll talk to him about coming to see you. You know him, though. He throws himself into work this time of year. He’s a tough nut to crack.”
“Always has been.”
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I just wanted to hear your voice and say I love and miss you.”
“I love you too, and I miss you so much.”
We say our goodbyes, and when my car fills with the deafening sound of silence, I let true tears fall down my cheeks and burying my face in my hands.
I allow myself to cry, just for a moment, in pure catharsis before I exhale a sharp breath and shake it off.
When I lift my head from my hands to wipe my tears away, I see him, Isaac, standing there, about to climb into an SUV that is parked about twenty feet away from me. He’s staring at me, no doubt having witnessed me crying.
There is clear concern in his eyes, and I think for a fleeting moment, he is going to try to come talk to me, to check on me, so I give him a small smile, which seems to placate him long enough for me to throw my car into drive and head off to meet Olivia for our drinks.
Isaac
There is no greater frustration than seeing a beautiful woman cry and not knowing how to help her. Hell, or even knowing if you should go over to help her.
I knew the entire time I was running, she was in the small compact car in the parking lot, watching me. I could feel her gaze. What I didn’t know was the gaze was accompanied by tears.
I didn’t know why she was crying, but it took effort of monumental varieties not to march over there and pull her into my arms to make sure she was all right, but I refrained. I don’t know her that well, and the last thing I want to do is scare her.
Why was she sad? Did someone hurt her? Did I make her uncomfortable?
So many questions cloud my mind now, four days later, as I sit around the table in the firehouse kitchen with my crew, having a meal lovingly donated by one of the local restaurants.
Sometimes we fix food for ourselves, sometimes meals are donated, but regardless, we are a well-fed fire station.
“Awfully quiet over there, Black,” Grady goads, giving me a nudge to the back of my head with his elbow as he walks by.
“We can’t all be the life of the party like you. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes,” I joke.
“Probably a good idea. Not many people can keep up with me.”
Some shifts tend to be very quiet. Some would even say boring, but I would never say that out loud. That would be a one-way ticket to getting the shit kicked out of you for jinxing it all.
“I’m surprised Dylan let you off the leash long enough to work an extra shift. I thought you were too good for that now.”
We all love teasing him about what a pussy-whipped bastard he is now. It’s all in good fun, of course, but that woman has him wrapped around her finger and he clearly loves every second of it.
“Sit and spin.” He raises his middle finger.
“You’d like that too much. I think I’ll pass.”
The crew we have here is much like a family, because we tend to spend more time with them than our actual families at times, and being thrown into life-or-death scenarios with only your coworkers to count on seems to build trust faster than anything I’ve encountered in my life.
I’d lay down my life for any of the men in this room, and I know they’d do the same for me.
“Did you all hear they are wanting to do a big write-up on the firehouse for the five-year anniversary of the LA Wildfires?” Grady asks.
“Why the fuck would they want to do that? No one wants to remember that shit. I did the one ridiculous interview right afterward, and I said I’d never do it again.”
Everyone around the table chimes in and appears to agree with me. It seems everyone is turning them down.
“I agree with you, Isaac, but you know how the media can be sometimes. The darker, the sadder, the better.”
“I don’t want to be part of it. We don’t do this job to be praised. We do it to save lives. If you’re in it for the accolades, my respect is gone,” I say generally.
“You sound like my damn brother,” Grady groans. “But you’re right. It’s not right. Not at all.”
That time in our lives was hard for all of us to process when we were finally able to come home. We were exhausted, of course, and on top of that, we were mentally shaken from the amount of death and destruction we were forced to face.
We all had blisters and deep marks on our faces from having to wear our masks for so many hours straight. I still have a small scar along my temple from it.
In the grand scheme, we were able to come home afterward and not face the long-lasting damage that comes with losing everything, and sometimes I do feel guilty for that, especially when all I have is a fucking scar.
People lost everything.
Reliving that pain isn’t something anyone should have to go through for a fucking newspaper article.
Ever.
Chapter 4
Sawyer
How can there be so many different kinds of apples? Are they really that different?
Granny Smith. Red Delicious. Pink Ladies.
It’s just ridiculous, honestly. Some things in life should just be simple, and the rows upon rows of fruit, staring at me in the produce section of the grocery story, are anything but simple.
“I suppose I’ll choose you, Red Delicious,” I say under my breath, selecting a few bright red apples and placing them in my cart.
The rest of the section is easier to navigate, but I pause when I see a small, perfectly shaped pineapple on a display table and I stop in my tracks.
It’s so silly, the things that trigger memories, both good and bad. It could be a song, a breeze, or even a damn pineapple.
My brother’s favorite.
I take a breath, try to focus on the good memories I have of him, and continue on with my shopping.
I’m exploring the fresh bread in the bakery when I familiar voice sounds from behind me.
“You don’t have to flirt with every man you see, Grams.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Isaac walking, pushing a grocery cart while an elderly woman rides in a motorized chair beside him.
“Why yes I do. I’m not getting any
younger. I have to shoot my shot every chance I get.”
“Shoot your shot?” He laughs. “Where did you hear that?”
It’s so difficult not to eavesdrop, because it’s not every day you see a hulk of a man helping a very small old lady grocery shop.
He’s casual today, in a simple tee and blue jeans. His hair is mussed up in that I just rolled out of bed way that works so well for some men. He looks so good it hurts.
I make my bread selection then push my cart forward, trying to sneak away without him seeing me, but my name on his lips stops me.
“Sawyer?”
I turn slowly then try to act surprised to see him, like I had not been staring at him only moments before.
“Isaac?”
“I’m starting to think you’re the one doing the stalking here.” He tilts his head just a bit and gives me that sideways grin.
“I was about to say the same thing to you.”
I’m suddenly very aware of the cool air from the A/C on my heated skin.
Maybe the maxi dress was a bad idea.
“Doing some grocery shopping?” He shoves his hands into his pockets.
“That is what supermarkets are for.” I smile so he knows I’m teasing.
“Fair enough.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
He motions over his shoulder to the older woman in the motorized chair, who is chatting away with one of the store clerks a few feet back.
“I bring my grandmother grocery shopping once a week. That’s her over there. She doesn’t meet a stranger, so she is chatting away.”
“That’s really sweet of you.”
“It’s the least I can do. She’s a handful sometimes, but she’s the best.”
As if she can sense she is being discussed, his grandmother comes toward us and stops just beside her grandson.
“That Paul is always such a sweetheart.” She reaches out and pats Isaac on the arm.
She is so small with crisp, snow-white hair and glasses. She is wearing an all baby blue tracksuit and black tennis shoes. She’s completely adorable.
“You just like flirting with him.”
“I do. I do.” Her eyes move to me. “Hello, there. It seems my grandson has forgotten his manners.” She reaches out to shake my hand. “I’m Jean.”
“He’s a man. He can be forgiven.” I smile and place my hand in hers to shake. “I’m Sawyer.”
“You didn’t even give me chance, Grams.” He chuckles. “And I take offense to that man comment.”
“Sawyer. What a unique and lovely name.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m named after my grandmother. It was her maiden name.”
“I adore it.” She releases my hand and looks up at Isaac. “Tell me you aren’t hiding this one from your dear old grandmother. She’s one hell of a looker too.”
“Grams,” he scolds a bit under his breath. “Play it cool.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Thank you for the compliment. That’s very sweet, but Isaac and I just met at the Harvest Festival two weeks ago. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and bumped into him.”
“Then she ran me over while I was working a drill over at Sunnyville High, and then we saw each other again at the high school track. I was there for a run.”
I roll my eyes at him and bite my lip in a smile, because we both know he came there on purpose to see me.
“And now you’ve run into each other again here at the supermarket? Seems serendipitous to me,” Jean says with a knowing grin.
“Actually, Grams, I tried to get her number last time I saw her, but apparently Sawyer here doesn’t date firemen.”
That asshole is throwing me under the bus in front of his grandmother. He plays hardball.
“That’s just about the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jean looks my way and shakes her head. “Firemen are strong, loyal, brave and,” she looks around, leans in closer to me and whispers, “they are wonderful in bed.”
I cover my mouth to stifle my laughter.
“Christ’s sake, Grams. Seriously?” Isaac covers his eyes and looks positively horrified.
“What? It’s the truth.” She shrugs as if she said the most natural thing in the world.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I cannot believe this is happening right now.” He is still covering his eyes. “I can’t even look at you, and I’m going to have to scrub that image out of my brain.”
I watch for a few moments while they tease each other back and forth. Their relationship is clearly close, and it makes my heart ache. I miss my family.
“Well, I’m going to leave you two to talk privately for a moment.” Jean starts to move but stops just beside me. “It was lovely to meet you, Sawyer, and do me a favor, would you? Don’t be too hard on my grandson. He’s a good one. Trust me.”
I just give her a smile and then I nod at her words. “It was nice to meet you too, Jean.”
“Isaac, I’m going to go over to the books. I want to find something new to read. There’s this new one by that pretty author, what’s her name… K. Bromberg, that I’ve been dying for.”
“Go find your book. I’ll be along soon. I just want to say goodbye to Sawyer.”
She waves him off then she’s on her way.
“She’s adorable.”
“She’s special, that’s for sure, and I’m sorry if she made you feel uncomfortable with the whole fireman in bed comment.”
“No, not at all. It was funny. I swear. It takes a lot to offend me. I appreciated her honesty.”
“If she’s one thing, it’s honest. She has kept my ass in line for a long time.”
“It’s great you do this for her. I know I said that earlier, but it’s the truth. So many people wouldn’t.”
“I love her,” he says simply.
It’s in this moment, right here in the middle of a supermarket, my armor cracks, just a bit, and I know if he asks me for my number again, I will say yes.
“It shows.”
He slides his hand through his hair and gives it a tug. “Grams was telling me, before I saw you in here, that taking chances when you can is really important.”
“Shooting her shot,” I say with a smile.
“You heard us?”
“I did. I have to be honest; I saw you before you saw me and I got nervous. I tried to make a break for it.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Am I really that scary?”
“You’re not scary at all, Isaac. You just make me a bit nervous, that’s all.”
He regards me closely for a moment, like he’s trying to read my mind, just like at the festival the last week.
“You really don’t trust people like me, do you?”
“It’s hard to trust anyone sometimes, isn’t it?”
He steps a bit closer and places a hand on my cart sitting idly between us. My eyes flick down to see his strong fingers curling over the metal. They are long, but not like piano playing fingers. Perfectly sized so if he were to hold my hand, they would completely wrap over mine, and if he were to put his hand on my leg, his fingers would cover the entire expanse of my skin from outer to inner thigh.
“That’s true, but a very pessimistic outlook.” He stares at me for a moment then speaks again. “Grams always takes a chance, so that is what I’m going to do.”
How can a simple phrase like that make me tingle from head to toe? Is he taking a chance on me?
“Meaning?”
“Give me a chance to prove to you not everyone is bad, especially not everyone in my line of work, and especially not me.”
He isn’t pushy. He’s not trying to force me into anything. He’s just being consistent, and even I have to appreciate that… shooting his shot.
“What would this chance entail?”
“Five dates. Give me five dates to prove it, and after five dates, if you still think you can’t trust me or if you no longer want to see me, I’ll bow out gracefully
and leave you be.”
“Five dates,” I repeat.
Jason’s memory is all around me every single day, no matter what I do, I can’t run from it forever. This nice, incredibly handsome, sweet man wants to spend time with me, and who am I to say no?
“You’ve got a deal, Isaac Black.” I extend my hand to seal the deal with a handshake. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“I would never.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, then passes it to me. “Call yourself so I have your number and you have mine.”
His screen is already on when I look down at it, and his phone background is all black with the phrase ‘Negativity Is the Easy Way Out’ in the middle.
I open up keypad, dial my number, and let it ring until I feel the vibration in my pocket then I end it.
“All set.” I pass him the phone.
“Perfect.” I watch the muscles in his arms contort and flex as he slides his phone back into his pocket. “I should get back to her before she leaves here with more numbers than me.”
I giggle. “Probably a good idea.”
“I’ll call you sometime soon. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He flashes me that damn smile of his and leaves me in the middle of the supermarket with a racing heart and butterflies in my stomach.
Isaac
“Aren’t you going to tell me about her?”
I’m honestly shocked how long it took Grams to push for more information about Sawyer. She waited all the way to the parking lot before starting twenty questions.
“Here we go,” I groan.
“Don’t you have that tone. I’m an old woman. You’re supposed to be kind to me.”
I laugh out loud and shake my head at her audacity.
“Are you saying that I’m not? Because if I remember correctly, I’m ‘such a sweet boy,’ unless you were lying to me when I picked you up and took you for doughnuts.”
Grams is a sugar fiend. That is a one-way ticket to her good side. Anytime she’s mad, I’ve learned to ply her with chocolate or some sort of sweet confection. She can never say no to that.