by Jo Davis
Grace chuckled at their banter and turned to greet their guests, who were busy talking animatedly with Kat and Howard. A small, delicate bird of a woman sat next to Kat on the sofa. Howard was sitting on the other side of her sister, holding her hand and grinning like a luck-struck fool. A big man who was an older version of Howard sat close to him in a chair. Grace had met the lieutenant’s parents only a handful of times—most recently at Howard and Kat’s wedding at the end of January—and seeing them here threw her for a moment.
“Chief Mitchell, Georgie, it’s so good to see you!” She bent and gave hugs to Mrs. Mitchell, Kat, and Howard, then found herself wrapped in Bentley’s bone-crunching embrace. Like his son, Sugarland’s fire chief was a large, fine-looking man, though his face had a few character lines and his brown hair had gone salt-and-pepper with age. Quite a contrast to her own dad, who was tall, lean, and blond, like herself.
“Good to see you, too, honey,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Mary says you’re working too hard; is that right?”
Grace pulled out of his embrace, shaking her head. “Mom worries too much.” Especially after Daddy’s heart attack last year, but she didn’t add that part. “It’s just business as usual around the office. I’m sure you know how it is.”
The chief nodded, folding his arms over his chest. “Not for much longer, if I have anything to say about it. I’m thinking of retiring at the end of June, before our Alaskan cruise.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations. I’m sure Georgie must be thrilled.” Georgie beamed and chimed in her agreement. Howard, on the other hand, stared at his lap, smile dimming some. Grace knew from her sister’s and brother-in-law’s stories how every firefighter in the department idolized Bentley, so it was no wonder Howard would be a little bummed at the change.
“Thanks, so am I. I’m looking forward to spending more time with my gorgeous wife.” The chief smiled. “And with my son.”
Howard perked up at that, meeting his father’s gaze, his happiness plain. After what they’d been through these past few months, they were both eager to make up for lost time.
Howard and Kat exchanged a meaningful look. “I think that’s probably a great place to share, don’t you?” he murmured, brushing her lips in a gentle kiss.
“I agree.” The room went quiet while her sister paused, making sure she had everyone’s attention. “We have some great news. Howard and I . . . well, we’re pregnant!”
The room erupted in squeals from the moms and laughter from the men. Georgie wrapped Kat in a tight squeeze, followed by her own mom. Howard stood, trading backslaps with the men, beaming as though no other guy had ever accomplished such a manly feat. Then the parents switched for another round of effusive well-wishes. Through it all, Grace waited her turn, feeling pretty much the way she’d felt in the fourth grade when Jimmy Fredrick beaned her at recess with a line drive to the forehead—knocked flat on her ass.
Thank God nobody noticed. They were too busy peppering the radiant couple with questions to wonder at Grace’s silence.
Georgie settled back into her spot next to Kat. “When’s the baby due?”
“The week of Christmas, poor thing,” Kat said, green eyes shining. “Bam, double presents, and then nothing the rest of the year.”
Daddy laughed. “Oh, right! Like the kid won’t be spoiled at all.”
“Mary, we’ll have to take our girl shopping for the nursery. She’s going to need, well, everything!” Georgie said, squeezing Kat’s hand. She smiled at Grace. “Of course, you’ll go with us, dear.”
“I’d love to.” Grace smiled back, hoping her expression wasn’t as strained as it felt. A whirlwind of emotions battered her from all sides, not the least of which was annoyance at being included as an afterthought. Or was that really the problem?
No, Georgie was a sweet lady, as overjoyed as everyone else, and Grace was ashamed of her own petty thoughts.
What’s wrong with me?
Mom clapped her hands in excitement. “Ooh, there’s that new factory outlet in Nashville! I heard they’ve got furniture, bedding, clothes. . . .”
As she chattered away, the men cringed, and the chief arched a brow at Howard.
“Might as well just hand over your wallet now, son. Fighting the Estrogen Squad will do you no good.”
Howard put on a mournful face, but chuckled when his wife elbowed him in the ribs. Kat held up a hand, addressing the group at large.
“All of that sounds like fun, but we’re going to wait until my first trimester is past before we start feathering the nest.” She laid a hand on her husband’s big, muscular thigh. “It’s all a little too good to be true. It didn’t take us nearly as long to conceive as we thought it would, and we don’t anticipate any problems, but still . . .”
Her sister’s common sense tempered the joy some, but not by much. Despite the poor odds surrounding Howard’s ability to father children, they’d created a tiny life together without having to resort to more-aggressive measures. Grace couldn’t be happier for them. Really.
So why did she feel like sneaking off for a good cry?
Grace had never thought of herself as the maternal type, had never experienced a single twinge of anticipation or envy when others mentioned their children. Babies cried, pooped, peed, and got sick. They required one hundred percent of their parents’ attention for the next twenty or thirty years.
Diapers, bottles, nipples, baby smells.
Loose teeth, growing pains, parent conferences.
Dating, joyriding, prom.
Thanks, but no thanks.
And yet a weird sort of funk settled about her shoulders as they trooped in to dinner. Jovial, upbeat conversation swirled around her, little of it requiring her input, which was fine. Or maybe not. It gave her far too much time to brood. Everyone in the room seemed to be moving forward into a new phase of their lives. Except me.
Slowly, she lowered her fork, the revelation like a slap in the face. Good God, when had she begun to feel stuck in her own life, spinning her wheels? How had that happened?
A hand touched her arm. “Hey, you’re awfully quiet,” Kat observed. “Something wrong?”
Grace blinked at her sister. “No, I just . . . I think I’m going to call him.”
“What? Call who?” Kat’s pretty face scrunched into a puzzled frown.
Grace lowered her voice, shooting Howard a meaningful look. “You know.”
Her sister’s eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, wow. He’s finally getting to you, huh?” She grinned like an imp, the little bitch.
“Well, there’s no harm in making a new friend,” she said, too casually.
Kat giggled. “Friend. Right. Let me know how that works out.”
“Let’s keep this between us, for now.”
“Sure, but he’s going to find out anyway, eventually,” Kat whispered, rolling her eyes toward her husband. Though the lieutenant was a steady rock who loved his team like brothers, it was no secret that Julian tried his patience more than most. According to Kat, he’d even gone so far as to warn the gregarious ladies’ man away from Grace months ago, before the chief’s birthday party.
That Howard had reportedly hurt Julian’s feelings in doing so bothered Grace more than she cared to admit. “I know, but I don’t want this to seem like a big deal and get his nose all out of joint. Because it isn’t.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not looking to hook up with this guy.”
“Whatever you say.”
Studying her sister’s smug expression, she decided it was time for another tack. “Hey, I’m really thrilled for you two. I can’t think of anyone who deserves happiness more.”
“Thanks . . . but I can.”
Well, damn. Tears pricked her eyes and she glanced away, willing down the sudden rush of emotion. “I amhappy, honest.”
Kat gazed at her curiously and she gave her sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze. She had built a successful career, enjoyed a luxury car and a hea
lthy savings account. She was happy.
And until today, she could’ve sworn to a jury that it was the absolute truth.
Man, what a pissy, soggy mess of a day. Julian didn’t mind the rain so much, but people taking idiotic chances plus rain? There you had a recipe for a shift loaded with calls for traffic accidents, on top of the usual shit.
Mr. Stafford had forgotten to take his insulin again, two young boys had decided to find out if putting dry ice in a plastic bottle will cause the container to explode—it so fucking does—earning the miscreants a trip to the ER, and a student at a local elementary had suffered a severe asthma attack. And the damned shift was barely eight hours old.
Julian slogged into the station house after the others, butt dragging, soaked and chilled to the bone despite his heavy clothing. It might be spring, but you couldn’t work out in that crap all day without feeling the effects. Right about now, he figured his balls were shriveled to the size of raisins.
“Man, all we need right now is to have to do a water rescue in this shit,” Tommy said, stripping off his coat and regulation navy polo.
“Don’t tempt the gods—they might hear you,” Eve replied drily, eyeing his bare chest. “And for Christ’s sake, put on a shirt before we eat. I’m out of Tums.”
Tommy grinned, flexing a bit. “What’s the matter, Evie? Am I finally getting to you, making you all hot and bothered?”
Eve snorted, engaging in their usual banter. “Yep. I decided just last week to take up cradle robbing.”
“Yeah? Best news I’ve heard all day.” Tommy gave her an exaggerated, come-hither pout, which looked disgustingly cool on his movie-star-handsome mug. He stalked toward her slowly, waggling his brows, making her and everyone else laugh. Julian grinned, shaking his head. The kid loved teasing her and Eve never seemed to mind.
“Let’s go put out a fire, huh? I’ve got the equipment you need—”
“Knock it off, Skyler,” Sean said, stepping into his path, expression black. Tommy froze, blue eyes wide. After a tense few seconds of silence, the captain waved a hand at his team. “Go change and let’s eat while we can. Who’s responsible for dinner?”
“I am,” Tommy muttered. “I’ll start as soon as I get dry.” Turning on his heel, he headed in the direction of the room he shared with Zack.
Okay, so not everyone had been amused. Feeling bad for the guy, Julian caught up with him in the hallway and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “What’s on the menu? Chili dogs? Dios, I’m starving.” He usually gave the kid hell about his limited culinary skills, but he figured now was not a great time to poke fun.
Tommy glanced at him, brightening a little. “Me, too, but no dogs today. I’m expanding my horizons to homemade lasagna. Well, not totally homemade, because who has all friggin’ day? But I found these great noodles that you don’t have to boil. Just stick them in the oven and they poof out—how freaky is that?” At Julian’s dubious look, he grinned. “Relax, I already tried the recipe on my family last week and they gave it two thumbs-up.”
Julian’s stomach rumbled. “Sounds good. Want some help?”
“Sure, thanks,” he said, his tone appreciative, yet a little hesitant. “You can fix the salad and garlic bread, if that’s okay.”
“Works for me.” Julian ducked into the room he shared with the lieutenant, skirted the wall of lockers separating their beds, and began to strip. Howard was already inside, yanking on a dry shirt and tucking the tail into clean pants.
“I heard what you said to Skyler. That was decent of you.”
“What, like I never offered to help with grub duty before?” First Tommy appeared surprised at the offer, now this from the man he admired most. Am I really such an asshole that he feels the need to point out when I’m not?
“I’m talking about distracting him from his embarrassment over being snapped at by Sean. You’re good at that sort of thing. . . . You know, bringing calm or humor to a tough situation.”
The unexpected praise rooted him in place, warming a cold spot inside him. Grabbing a clean towel from his locker, he fumbled with his response as cynicism warred with the painful bloom of hope. Like maybe, for once, he was moving into the circle, rather than on the outside looking in—
Cristo. Wouldn’t do to let his insecurities, his yearning for acceptance, flap naked in the breeze, so in the end he just said, “Um, thanks.”
From the other side of the lockers, Six-Pack said, “I’m gonna go make sure the ambulance is stocked.”
Then, thank God, the man shuffled out, leaving Julian to his business. Quickly, he dried off, got dressed, and headed to the kitchen to help Tommy. Bagged salad and frozen bread he could do. A simple, mindless task to quiet his brain, keep it from wandering down the same old treacherous path to the reason for the glass bubble separating himself from the world.
His fear of never breaking the barrier.
His terror of rattling the skeletons by trying.
Blowing out a breath, he ripped open the bag of lettuce and glanced over to where Tommy stood at the counter a few feet away, mixing the white, goopy ricotta. “God, how can something that looks so nasty taste so good?”
“No shit. Kinda like oysters, huh?”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Tommy grinned. “Hey, they’re supposed to be an aphrodisiac.”
“So are rhinoceros horns, but you won’t see me chowing down on one.” Studying the younger man, he decided to go out on a limb. “I wouldn’t think you’d need any help in that department these days. Aren’t you seeing that cute friend of Cori’s? What’s her name?”
“Shea Ford.” He lifted a shoulder in a negligent gesture. “We’ve been out a couple of times. No biggie.”
Coming from Tommy, the cool response was interesting. With his blond, Brad Pitt looks, sunny personality, and family straight out of a TV sitcom, the former high school star quarterback was so perfect it was nauseating. Seeing him off his game was rare. “You’re not into a doll like her?”
“Correction—she’s not into me.” He laughed, the sound a little forced. “She thinks I’m too young for her. I’m out all goddamned day, breaking my back pulling people out of mangled cars, cleaning up their messes—I walk into fucking burning buildings—yet I’m a kid. I’m not good enough for her. But hey, like I said, no sweat. I don’t need a woman with balls bigger than mine, you copy?”
Julian blinked at Skyler’s vehemence and made a mental note to himself—Stop calling the guy a kid, even in your head. “Yeah. Damn, that’s . . . I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’m in the same boat.”
The younger man glanced up from layering the ingredients in the pan. “Yeah? You got a lady yanking your chain?”
“Yanking, hell. She’s got the chain wrapped around my neck choking the life out of me. Christ, she won’t even let me close enough to know what she’s thinking, so you’re way ahead of me there.”
“Sucks, man.”
“No lie.”
“Are we bonding here, Jules?”
“No way, I’ve got an image to protect. I go all warm and fuzzy and people might start to mistake me for a sonofabitch who cares.” He smiled, waited. For once, would someone take the joke as he intended?
Tommy’s lips curved upward, those pale blue eyes dancing with humor. “Good to know. Who needs friends, anyhow?”
Something strange and nice unfurled in Julian’s middle, warming the chill even more, and a knot of tension he hadn’t even realized was there eased from his neck and shoulders. “My thoughts exactly.”
They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Julian adding some cheese and vegetables to the salad and laying out the garlic bread on a baking sheet, Tommy sliding the lasagna in the oven. After a while, Julian’s curiosity got the better of him and he leaned his butt against the counter, studying the other man thoughtfully.
“Didn’t I hear once that you started out playing college football right after high school?” The sudden, stark flash of grief
across Tommy’s face instantly made him regret the question. “Forget it, I—”
“No, it’s okay. I played for the Alabama Crimson Tide my freshman year. Saw some game time, had a great season, was on top of the world and looking forward to my sophomore year. I’d gotten a little buzz from the press and was flying about as high as any nineteen-year-old could be. But I had to drop out of school.” He stared at a point over Julian’s shoulder, remembering. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. Sad.
“My older brother, Donnie, was killed in Iraq and I came home. End of story.”
Not by a long shot, but Julian was sensitive enough not to question Tommy further on the painful subject.
“Madre de Dios.” Julian scrambled for the right words, unable to imagine how he’d feel if one day he received the dreaded call about Tonio, a narcotics officer who lived every single day on the edge. He couldn’t, so he settled for honesty. “I’m so sorry. I can’t begin to understand what you and your family went through.”
“We survived,” Tommy said softly, turning to wipe the counter, offering nothing more.
Julian was hit with another strange, unfamiliar emotion—shame. A few moments ago, had he actually compared this man’s personal life to a TV sitcom? God, everyone at the station probably knew about Tommy’s brother, and the rest of the story he had yet to tell Julian—like why he ditched his plans to play college and pro ball and threw away his education. And on the heels of that thought, a startling epiphany shifted the ground under his feet.
For so long, he’d felt like the outsider on this team, carried a chip on his shoulder the size of LP Field. He’d resented the closeness the others shared, felt like none of them gave a damn about knowing him other than being able to count on his skills as a firefighter/paramedic.
Until this very moment, it had never occurred to him that the others might feel the same way about him.
When had he bothered to take a personal interest in anyone else’s life? No wonder Grace doesn’t want anything to do with me.
Jesus Christ, self-realization sucked.
As the aroma of baking lasagna drifted through the station, the rest of the team filed into the kitchen to hover like a pack of starving dogs. Fortifying his nerves, Julian made an extra effort to try to say something, hell, cheerful to each of them—with mixed results.
