by Emma Nichole
“I’m saying you are being defensive over a girl, and it’s the first time that’s happened. I’m a naturally curious person, so I want to know about her. She’s very pretty.”
The motorized cart she is riding in rolls to a stop just beside my truck and she stares at me, waiting for some kind of response while I load her few bags of groceries into the back of my extended cab. Her gaze is so palpable, like a typical grandma gaze you can feel from across the room when you know you’re in trouble.
“Why are you staring at me?”
She tilts her head to the side and holds her hands out like the reason is obvious. “Because I can tell you like her.”
“I hardly know her, Grams. I’ve only run into her a couple of times.”
“I may be old, but I’m not stupid. I can feel obvious sexual tension when I see it.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, first of all, you can’t see sexual tension and second of all, gross. Please don’t talk about feeling sexual tension.” I place the final bag in the truck then close the door. “That’s the last thing I want to think about.”
“How do you think you’re here, Isaac? I had sex with your grandfather to have your father then he had sex with your mom to have you. Sex is normal.”
“I’m thirty seconds away from covering my ears like a two-year-old and shouting la-la-la-la-la until you stop.” I shake my head at her. “Give me your hand and I’ll help you around and into the truck.”
“I am a stubborn woman, Isaac. I don’t give up easily.” She gathers her purse and holds it tightly against her side.
I help her stand and slowly walk her around to the passenger side of the truck then maneuver her up and 0nto the seat.
“You? Stubborn? I would have never guessed,” I say sarcastically.
“Where do you think you get it from? That’s a Black family trait, you know? Stubborn asses who never accept no for an answer.”
I take my place behind the wheel and turn the keys, bringing the engine to life and her music of choice, old-school country music, croons through the speakers.
“Grams, there really isn’t much to say. I think she’s attractive, and easy to talk to, so yes, I’ve asked her out.”
“Did she say yes?”
“Not at first, but eventually.”
“Ah, playing hard to get. Good girl.” She clasps her hands in her lap and begins to sway to the music.
“I have a feeling you were one hard lady to land back in your day.” I pull out onto the road and head back toward her apartment.
“Back in my day?” she scoffs. “Are you calling me old?”
“Aren’t you though? I thought it was common knowledge you were there when the wheel was invented,” I tease her, like we always do each other. “You’re basically a dinosaur. Hell, not even that. You’re a fossil.”
“At least I’m pretty. You took after the unfortunate side of our family, dear. I’m really sorry about that.” She laughs, reaching over to pat my shoulder.
I really love this woman, and I’m grateful she is still here with me so I’m able to joke around with her, even if our love language is being mean to one another. She stepped up for me in my life when I had no one. Who knows where I’d be right now without her?
“You’re right. You are pretty.”
We sit silently, listening to Johnny Cash serenade us about a woman in love. Grams has always loved the Man in Black, and he’s always her music of choice when she’s in my truck.
“Listen, Isaac, I don’t mean to press every single time a woman is mentioned, but I want more for you than this Casanova thing you’ve got going.”
“How do you even know what I do and don’t do in regard to women? I’m hardly a Casanova, Grams.”
“Then what would you call yourself, because I am not blind, you know? I know you see ladies and see them often. I have my ways of finding these things out. What about that Isabelle girl? You were seeing her a lot.”
“We’re just friends. I’ve told you that.”
She scoffs, “You may want to tell her that.”
“Why? I’ve made it pretty clear I don’t want anything serious with her.”
“She still comes to the community center to volunteer from time to time. She stops by to say hello to me, and, Isaac, I know what it looks like. She’s wrapped up in you good.” She reaches into her purse and looks at the cell phone I bought for her a few months ago, using one finger to poke the screen.
I release a heavy sigh as we turn into the gated senior community she calls home now.
“Great. That’s the last thing I need. I’ve been lucky enough to avoid this stuff for awhile.”
“Take my advice. If you’re not going to take things further than a roll in the hay with her, let her down easy. She’s a nice girl.”
“Does that make me an asshole?” I slide the truck into park and rest my hands on the steering wheel.
“Not having feelings for someone doesn’t make you an asshole, Isaac. You can’t help that.”
“Just like you can’t help who you’re drawn to?”
She reads my face so easily, and it’s like she knows without a doubt I’m referring to Sawyer.
“Exactly that, dear.”
Chapter 5
Isaac
Tossing my duffle bag onto the bench in the locker room of Fire Station 13, I plop down beside it and pull off my sneakers so I can change into my station wear. I can hear my cell phone vibrating against the metal of the locker. I lift it up and see a number I don’t recognize, so I answer immediately, thinking it could be Grams.
“Hello?”
“Isaac, hello, this is Kendra with the Sunnyville Journal. I’m calling because we want to—”
I hang up immediately. I don’t want to talk about or relive that fucking weekend at all, and neither should they.
Grady pokes his head in.
“Morning.” He steps all the way in and leans against his locker. He’s coming off shift and looks exhausted. “I’ve got coffee going down in the kitchen and Sue’s Diner sent in some food for breakfast. Might want to get your ass down there before Connors eats it all.”
“Thanks.” I take off my plain T-shirt and pull on my blue, station-approved polo. “You look like shit. Long night here?”
“Car accident on the freeway. It was… not great. Multiple vehicles. Alcohol is a bitch, man. We were there awhile.”
He reaches over his back and tugs his shirt free so he can change into different clothes before heading home to his wife.
“Well, get home and get some beauty sleep. You look like you need it.”
Our career is unique, much like other uniformed and emergency services in that we have to work through, endure, and see a lot of fucked-up shit on the daily basis, but then we have to find a way to not let it disrupt our mental health. From fires, to death, to car accidents, and everything in between, we have to see it all.
I was always good at that, the separation, until the LA fires. Those have stuck with me and wedged themselves deep into my chest.
Once I’m changed and ready to roll, I place all my stuff in my locker and slam it shut. I won’t be getting it out until I’m relieved from shift at eight tomorrow morning. Twenty-four hours from now.
***
The day passes easily with not much to write home about. A few structural fire calls and a fire hydrant mishap, but all in all, no one was hurt in any call we took today. I call that a win.
I’m lying flat on my back in my bunk, listening to the snores of my coworkers around me, now. It’s odd really, how much of a family you become here. I may only work two full shifts a week, but I’m closer with these men than I’ve been with anyone besides Caleb and Finn.
I love my job, but finding sleep on shift isn’t as easy for me as it is for others. I’m on alert, waiting for the alarm to sound that sends us into action. I catch a couple hours here and there, but they’re few and far between.
I usually spend the downtime in my bunk
playing cards on my phone, even as lame as that sounds. It keeps me centered and chills my busy mind.
I’m in the middle of a pretty intense round of Solitaire when an incoming text vibrates my phone.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting when I open my text messaging app, but I can honestly say a text from Sawyer was firmly in the “not going to happen” category.
Sawyer: Beg for my number then don’t even call? I’m offended, Mr. Black. :P
I check the time before I respond. It’s nearly two in the morning.
Me: Isn’t it a little past your bedtime?
The little dots showing that she is typing appear almost immediately.
Sawyer: I’m a big girl, mister. I don’t have a bdteem.
Sawyer: bed tome*
Sawyer: SHIT
Sawyer: B E D T I M E
Sawyer: Damn, thumbs.
I laugh as quietly as I can and type out a reply.
Me: Don’t blame your thumbs. I have a feeling there may be a bit of alcohol at play right now.
Sawyer: I will neither confirm nor deny this fact.
Sawyer: So why haven’t you texted me, hmmm? It’s been a whole week.
Me: I’ve been planning my moment. It takes skill.
Her response isn’t as immediate this time, but she eventually replies.
Sawyer: Are you sure you didn’t just change your mind?
Me: Positive. Don’t you trust me?
Sawyer: Not yet. I just know you’re cute and nice to your grandma. It’s hot.
Me: Oh, so you think I’m hot, huh?
The blinking dots never appear again, and after I’ve gotten a bit of sleep and the sun is starting to rise through the bunk area, she still hasn’t replied to me.
Sawyer
“Why did you let me do this?” I plop my head onto my kitchen table while Olivia cooks breakfast for us.
“What? Encourage you to get tequila drunk with me on your living room floor, while I mourn the fact another asshole has decided to ghost me?”
“Yes. Exactly that,” I whine. “My head is killing me.”
“You just need a bit of hair of the dog.”
“No! Dear God, no. No more alcohol. Coffee and ibuprofen only and whatever delicious thing you’re whipping up over there,” I mumble against the table.
“French toast. The carbs will help.”
“I can’t believe I even had the stuff in the house to make that.” I sit up and pull my hair into a bun, securing it with the hair tie around my wrist.
“You didn’t. I had it delivered after my run this morning.”
“You can’t be human. There is no way you consumed that much alcohol and got up for a run this morning.”
“I’m not a lightweight like you.”
I stick my tongue out at her then go to find a bottle of water and some ibuprofen.
Once I’m medicated and hydrated, I pull on a hoodie from my bedroom and swipe my phone from the nightstand.
Back at the table with a delicious plate of carbs, butter, and sweet maple syrup in front of me, I unlock my phone to do a social media check, as I do every morning, but what I see instead makes me want to crawl under the table and hide.
“Oh God. Oh no.”
“What?”
“You’re the worst drunk buddy ever,” I scold. “You let me text him? Why didn’t you fight the phone from me? Or slap me? Or punch me in the boob? Anything to keep me from texting him.”
“Whoa. Calm down. Who did you text?” She comes over and looks over my shoulder at my phone. “Isaac Black.” She covers her mouth and begins to snicker. “I mean, they say drunk words are sober thoughts. You obviously wanted him to text you. What’s the big deal?”
“I embarrassed the hell out of myself! What do you mean ‘What’s the big deal?’ I told him I thought he was hot and that I wanted him to reach out, and I was a drunk idiot who couldn’t even spell.”
“Well, now I need to read these.” She extends her hand. “Hand it over, sister.”
I place my phone in her hands then lay my forehead back on the cool wood of the kitchen table.
“This couldn’t have gone worse.”
“Oh calm down, you big baby.” She continues to scroll through the messages. “They aren’t even that bad. You’re overreacting.”
“You think so?” I lift my head again and look at her.
“Yes. If anything, it’s cute and endearing. You should reach out to him again this morning, now that you’re sober. It’s empowering that you said something first. Show him he doesn’t have ultimate control.”
She tosses my phone back to me and I place it on the table next to my plate of food.
“I’m not even that interested in him.” I pick up my fork and push my food around a bit, waiting for Liv to say something, anything, but instead she’s simply glaring at me when I look back her way.
Liv has the kind of stare all good teachers have. The one that can level you completely and you feel the anger and disappointment that makes your gut drop to your toes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just waiting on you to stop lying to me, and yourself, before I give my opinion.”
“What do you mean? I’m not into him like that.”
“You’re a liar.” She finally plops down into the seat across from me. “You wouldn’t be freaking out about a drunk text if you weren’t at least a little interested. You certainly wouldn’t have agreed to go on five dates with him.”
Liv was shocked, to say the least, when I told her about the interaction at the supermarket and that I somehow let him talk me into going on five dates with him. Who was I kidding? He could have asked me to commit to a dozen dates, and I was so high on serotonin from seeing his adorable interaction with his grandmother I would have said yes to that too.
“Just hear me out, okay?” she asks, as she lays her hands on the table, and I nod in agreement. “How long has it been since you’ve been on a proper date?”
“Only once since I’ve been here, and just a few here and there in the last five years.”
“And when was the last time you had sex?”
My eyes go wide. “I’m not even considering sex with him yet.”
“Ah ha. Yet. And no one said you had to, I’m just trying to make a point here. When was the last time?”
I take a moment, and really think back. I haven’t had sex since I’ve been in Sunnyville, that’s for sure, so it would have to be in LA.
“Like… three years ago, I think.” Fuck, saying that out loud makes it seem even sadder.
“And why is that?”
“I don’t even know if I have an answer for that.”
“Yes, you do. Find it and let’s hash this out. Because from what I’ve heard through the grapevine, Isaac is a good man, and shouldn’t your first time back in the dating scene here be with a decent human, at least?”
She has a point there.
Dating has been difficult since my brother passed away. My life didn’t make sense for awhile. I couldn’t understand why he was gone and I was still here. I processed a lot of guilt with therapy. Then I was trying to find a place to live, dealing with insurance from the fire, so dating wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind.
“After the fire and losing Jason, and everything that came with it, dating took a back seat. When I finally did try it out, everything felt empty. I owed it to him to live my life to the fullest because he didn’t get the chance. I wanted to live for him. Why waste my time on emptiness when I could wait for greatness?”
“How can you find greatness when you don’t try? You’ve spent enough time in your house on the nights and weekends. Go out, have fun, and live that life you want to live for him. I didn’t know him, but I know he wouldn’t want you to be a hermit, right?” She tilts her head to the left and regards me closely. “So I think it’s great you’re going to go out with Isaac. Even if just as friends, to have some fun, and get to know him. What’s the harm in that
?”
“His job.”
“You can’t hide from every fireman you come across, Sawyer.”
I groan and put my head in my hands again. “So you think I should text him instead of waiting?”
“I do. Take the bull by the horns… or the fireman by the hose.” With a wiggle of her brows, she dives into her breakfast, confident she made her point.
Before I lose my nerve, I pick up my phone and fire off a quick text to him.
Me: Drunk me is clearly more vocal. LOL. Still interested in taking me out or did I scare you off?
I place the phone face down on the table so I can’t stare at it while I wait for a reply. I’ll finish breakfast, take the morning slow, cure this massive hangover, and then I’ll look.
An hour passes before I finally come back to the table and flip my phone over, revealing two texts have arrived on my phone.
One shortly after I sent the first text, then other fifteen minutes after that.
Isaac: It would take more than an adorably drunk woman calling me hot to scare me off.
Isaac: Absolutely still want to take you out. In fact, date #1, tomorrow night. Meet me at the corner of 5th and Main at 7 p.m. How does that sound?
My heart races at the idea of this actually happening, of me actually going out with him. The anxiety is real, so real I nearly ghost him completely, but I close my eyes and summon my inner extrovert, the one who existed in me years ago.
Me: I’ll be there.
Chapter 6
Sawyer
What do you even wear on a first date with a man you really don’t know at all, when you don’t even know what you’re doing or where you’re going, and when you’re nervous as hell?
Apparently, you change outfits a dozen times before deciding on casual blue jeans, black flats, and a simple, pink flowy top. I wear my hair back in a sleek ponytail and slide in a pair of diamond studs my family gave me for my eighteenth birthday.