Burning Ambition

by Amy Knupp

  The nickname had her gritting her teeth. “I’m twenty-six years old. I can take care of myself. I’ve taken care of you for the past three months. And now you think you’re in the position to take Joe away from me.”

  “Faith.” He stepped closer to her, as if he was going to comfort her.

  She straightened her spine and backed away.

  “I didn’t force Joe to give you up. I merely laid out his options.” Her father’s voice was calm, quiet now. “He’s the one who chose the job.”

  Next came the twist of the blade that seemed to be slashing through her heart. Overwhelming physical pain seared through her, had her limply tossing the sponge back into the sink. She leaned on the counter, her face in her hands.

  He was right, of course.

  Faith had been so angry at her dad that she hadn’t allowed herself to face the truth. That Joe could have said forget the job and chosen her. And he hadn’t.

  Didn’t that just say it all?

  Slowly, she nodded. Tried to pull herself together long enough to get out of there.

  “I’m sorry, Faith.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, straightening. “Guess you saved me some time and future heartache.”

  When she finally worked up the courage to look him in the face, his pained expression—on her behalf—nearly did her in. He held out his palm, and she pressed her hand to his warm, protective one. She sucked in an uneven breath as her dad pulled her close for a hug. After a few seconds, when she was afraid she’d embarrass herself by bawling like a little girl, she drew away.

  “I need to go.” She forced the words out.

  The compassion in his eyes belonged to the dad she’d always known and loved. Idolized. “You have a room here, princess. This is your home.”

  At those words, she realized nothing sounded better than the comfort of her pink bed, just down the hall from her dad.

  Faith nodded. “You’re right. This is where I need to be. Think I’ll shower and go to bed.”

  After another heart-wrenching look of sympathy from him, she hurried to the hall bathroom, turned on the water and prayed he wouldn’t hear her cry.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  SPRING TRAINING BEAT the hell out of sitting at home questioning himself. Even if it was the Astros.

  “You going to pass the bag of peanuts over here?” Troy said to Ryan, who sat on the aisle, opposite Troy.

  “Told you to get your own damn nuts.”

  As a vendor walked up the aisle, Jorge stood and flagged him down. “Need some more nuts, please.” He handed the guy cash and threw a bag of peanuts at Troy. “The two of you never change.”

  “Where are my nuts?” Joe asked, amused.

  His stepfather attempted a stern look but ended up cracking a grin as Joe’s stepbrothers chuckled. “If you don’t know by now…”

  “Explains a lot about why you don’t have a woman,” Ryan said.

  “Damn well better have a woman,” Troy said, taking a swig of his overpriced beer. “How’s Faith?”

  A crude word slipped out before Joe could stop it. “I imagine she’s fine.”

  Troy, who was slumming in jeans and a polo for the game, groaned. “No. It’s not over already.”

  “Afraid so.”

  Instead of the smart-ass remark Joe expected, Troy said, “I’m sorry, bro.”

  “Seemed like you two had it going on,” Ryan said.

  Joe nodded, watching the action on the field as if he’d never seen anything so enthralling. Unfortunately, they were only warming up a different pitcher.

  “I owe you an apology,” Joe said to Troy on an exhalation. “I was a prick the night you showed up with her.”

  Troy smiled cagily. “I could’ve handled it better. Might’ve wanted to get a rise out of you, at least a little.”

  “Thanks for setting it up so we could have some time together.”

  “Hope you made good use of the night,” Troy said.

  Joe couldn’t allow himself to think about that. “Pitcher’s looking decent.”

  “Astros are going to spank your Rangers this year,” Jorge said.

  That was all it took to get away from the subject of Faith. Relieved, Joe picked up the verbal sparring and took on all three misguided men.

  He was still doing an okay job of not thinking about Faith by the middle of the sixth inning. The beer was helping, and so was the company. He’d decided last-minute to join his stepfamily on this trip, hours before they’d left, just yesterday. He’d paid a fortune for the airline ticket and had to share a hotel room with his stepfather, but he was glad he’d come.

  After the scene with Faith, two nights ago, he’d needed to get the hell out of the house. Out of town. And for once, he’d decided to spend time with Jorge, Troy and Ryan because he wanted to. Not because it’d make his mom stop worrying. Not out of some pseudofamilial obligation, but because he was starting to actually like these guys. Overpaid suits that they were.

  At the end of the row, Ryan let out a howl as he looked at his cell phone. The next thing Joe knew, his stepbrother was holding out a plastic shot glass.

  “What’s that for?” Joe asked.

  “Pass it to Troy.”

  Joe did as he was told. Troy leaned forward to question his brother wordlessly.

  Ryan handed another “glass” to Joe, one to his dad, then took out one for himself. Rustling around in an interior pocket of his windbreaker, he pulled out a silver flask.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Troy asked, setting his empty beer mug on the cement.

  “We’re celebrating.” He poured a golden liquid into his own cup, then passed the flask to Jorge. It went down the line, with all of them obediently filling up.

  “Tequila,” Jorge said, sniffing. “This better be the good stuff. I’m too damn old to drink the cheap garbage.”

  “What are we celebrating, dumb-ass?” Troy nodded at the woman in the row in front of them when she turned to glare at him.

  In reply, Ryan handed his phone down the line, a black-and-white photograph filling the screen. Jorge looked at it. Shrugged. Joe took it and smiled.

  “What the hell?” Troy said, leaning over to see.

  “Should we be congratulating you?” Joe asked.

  “For what?” Troy took the phone from him.

  “I’m going to be a dad,” Ryan said, beaming so much he could light the stadium if the game went too long.

  “Ho-ly shit,” Troy said. “What is this?”

  “It’s the ultrasound photo,” Joe told him. “With all that higher education you’ve got, you should know that.”

  Jorge slapped Ryan on the back. “I’ll be damned. Didn’t think either of you two bozos were going to figure out how to reproduce with a good woman.”

  “She is that, isn’t she?” Ryan said, grinning widely.

  “She went to the ultrasound without you?” Joe asked.

  “I was there. Two days ago. Just took her a while to send me the photo. Had to text her to remind her, so I could show off my future stud.”

  “It’s a boy?” Troy asked.

  “According to that.” He gestured to his phone. “She’s nineteen weeks along. Supposed to be fairly accurate.”

  “Nineteen weeks and you’re just telling us now?” Jorge asked.

  “I wanted to tell you right away. Shelly was nervous that something would happen. She wanted to make it halfway through, but she’s worried someone will notice she’s getting fat.”

  “Not fat, son,” Jorge said. “Never say fat.”

  “Pregnant,” Ryan corrected with false sincerity.

  “To another generation of Vargases.” Jorge held up his liquor.

  “God help us,” Joe added as they all toasted.

  Two more rounds emptied the flask. While Troy became louder, Joe turned oddly introspective. Though he was genuinely enjoying the day, an emptiness was starting to nag at him.

  Nothing another beer wouldn’t cure.

  He hea
ded up to the concession stand for one and was on his way back down to their row when the batter hit a foul ball in his direction. Not close enough to go for. Joe had left his mitt under his chair, anyway.

  He watched a younger guy, probably Faith’s age, grab it and high-five the guy next to him. Without deliberation, Joe headed in their direction.

  Five minutes later, after making small talk and a deal, Joe returned to his seat. He tossed the ball to Ryan.

  “That’s for your son. From his uncle Joe.”

  Ryan looked confused for a moment. “Is this the ball Robertson just hit?”

  “I’ll even get it signed for you afterward,” Joe told him.

  “How’d you get it? I didn’t see you catch it.”

  “Cost me a small fortune. But I figure he’s my first nephew. He deserves it. Even if it is just an Astros ball.”

  Ryan looked the ball over and stuck it in the pocket of his jacket. “Thanks, man. You’ll be his favorite uncle.”

  “The hell he will,” Troy said. “He’ll look just like me, be an Astros fan and grow up to be a lawyer.”

  “What if he wants to go the cool route and be a firefighter?” Joe said.

  “Enough of the crazy talk.” Ryan took out a candy bar and ripped it open. “You want another firefighter in the family, you have your own kid. Mine’s going to be one of the next generation of partners at Smith, Vargas and Wellington.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something?” Jorge said. “Bet he’ll be a trial lawyer just like his grandpa.”

  The three law-heads engaged in a debate of what kind of law the kid would be interested in, but Joe stopped listening.

  Another firefighter in the family.

  Have your own kid.

  Not two days ago, he’d assured himself he didn’t need that. Didn’t need Faith or a future that might include a family. Didn’t need anything but the job.

  It hit him now, like a brick to the head. He’d been dead wrong.

  An image, uninvited, appeared in his mind—of Faith holding a child. Her child. Dammit, he wanted it to be their child. Not today. Not right away. He wanted to spend a good year in bed with Faith, practicing to make that baby first.

  But he wanted to be the father of her children.

  And while a boy would be cooler than hell, the picture in his imagination was of a little girl dressed in a pink dress and wearing…a kid-size fire helmet.

  The crowd became noisy as someone got a hit. Belatedly, Joe stood like everyone else, but he was only half aware that there was even a game going on.

  The job stood in the way…the possibility of the promotion. Fire chief.

  His life’s goal.

  He liked his current position, he reasoned with himself. No question about that.

  Would he really like being the top dog as much? He knew there was a load of bureaucracy to reckon with. Politics. City budgets. Endless paperwork and meetings.

  No fires.

  But he’d be running the department. Making changes that needed to be made so firefighters could do their jobs more effectively. Save more lives and buildings. He had innovative ideas.

  So he would, what, move up in the department and make a difference for a few years and…then what? Retire to a garage full of cars?

  Let the Mendoza family line come to an end?

  Go to sleep by himself every night? Without Faith.

  Joe excused himself and went back up the concrete steps, then wandered off to the right behind the stands, lost in thought. The farther he walked, the fewer people were around, which suited him fine. At the end of the line, he leaned against the wall.

  His mom would understand if he didn’t put his name in for chief. She’d been telling him as much for months, but he hadn’t really heard her words until now. She wanted him to be happy, and in the past, he’d thought a promotion was what would do that for him.

  Faith would make him happier.

  He’d been miserable without her for the past two days. They hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time together before, but knowing he’d put an end to any possibility of being with her, his house had vibrated with the quiet. The loneliness.

  But what about his dad? The man who’d done everything in his power to pave the road for Joe, including elicit a promise from Chief Peligni to help him go far in the department. As far as Joe wanted to go.

  You have to figure everything out for yourself.

  Faith’s words rang out so clearly in his mind she could’ve been standing next to him.

  What did he want?

  He wanted Faith. And he still wanted the chief’s job.

  And regardless of his reduced chances for the promotion when he threw away Chief Peligni’s support, he was prepared to fight for them both.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  SEVEN IN THE MORNING had been the earliest flight Joe could get out of Florida. He’d gone to the airport last night after the game, hoping like hell he could change his ticket and catch the last flight of the day, but it had been full.

  He’d thought hard about renting a car and driving all night to get home, but the tequila and beer had made that a dumb idea.

  As he drove up to the Peligni house, he spotted the chief in the backyard, on the side that overlooked the bay.

  “Morning, Chief,” he said as he walked across the small lawn.

  The older man was perched on a short stool, pulling weeds out of a bed of bright yellow and red flowers. He stood, looking perplexed.

  “Morning, Joe. What brings you here? Thought you were on vacation.”

  “I’m back. Wanted to speak to you about something.”

  “On a Saturday? Let’s sit. I’m old. Retirement age,” he joked, gesturing to a set of weathered, white lawn furniture near the water.

  Joe walked with him and sat on one of the two chairs at angles to the bench.

  “What’s bothering you, Joe?”

  Joe gazed out at the calm, shallow water. A gull swooped low and grabbed at something on the surface. Halfway across to the mainland, a pair of kayaks glided parallel to the shore.

  He waited for the nerves to set in, for some kind of nagging anxiety over what he was about to do, but he was as relaxed as the turquoise bay water.

  “It’s about the job opportunity, sir.”

  Chief Peligni’s head whipped toward him. “For fire chief? You change your mind?”

  He crossed a leg over the opposite knee. “Did a little soul-searching on my trip.”

  The chief frowned. “Chief’s what you’ve talked about for years. Since you were four feet tall and hanging out at the station after school.”

  Joe chuckled, thinking back to the days when he would’ve given anything just to get inside a fire. Some days, when they knew it was a pretty routine call, the fire crew would let him ride in the truck to the scene. “It’s the coolest job on the planet. I want to be just like my dad.”

  “And your chances are good. So why are you here?”

  “Because I want Faith in my life, as well.”

  “I told you where I stand on that.”

  “Yes.” Joe rose and walked to the edge of the embankment. “I chose wrong the other day. I want Faith more than I want the promotion.”

  The chief appeared next to him. Nodded expectantly.

  “I understand your stance, Chief,” Joe said. “I intend to apply for the position with or without your backing.” He looked straight into the other man’s eyes. “Faith will always be most important, whether I’m a captain or the chief. And without your recommendation, I know I may still be captain for years. But I have to do what will make me happy. I have to try.”

  “That’s a lot to take on. Faith and leading the department.”

  “I don’t take it lightly. But I figure if I start to screw up with Faith, she’ll set me straight.”

  “She’d have some help from me, as well.” The chief’s expression remained impassive.

  “I get it,” Joe said. “I hope Faith will give me the chance to s
how you both I’m up for it.”

  “You probably know what a stubborn woman she is.”

  “I’m acquainted with that part of her personality, yes.”

  “She’s not always willing with second chances.”

  Joe had spent the flight home debating with himself on that very point. What if she was so hurt by the decision he’d wrongly made that she wouldn’t give him the time of day?

  “She gave me one, though,” the chief admitted.

  “A second chance?” Joe asked. “You two made up?”

  The chief pointed over his shoulder. “She’s inside. Probably just waking up, if you want to try your luck.”

  The moment of truth.

  “I don’t want to wake her.”

  Chief Peligni stared at him with mock disgust. “You didn’t cut your trip short just to sit here and shoot the shit with me. Get your ass in there.”

  Joe started to head inside, and then paused.

  “Are you and I cool?”

  The chief took his sweet time replying. “I admire your determination. As long as you understand I’ll tear you apart if you hurt my girl, we’re cool.” His features slipped into something just short of a grin and he nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “Good luck, son.”

  Joe didn’t miss the handle. The chief had never called him “son” before.

  FAITH HAD SKIPPED her morning run for the past two days, too drained to motivate herself. But today she was determined to get over it and make up for the days she’d missed.

  She’d slept in later than usual and hurriedly dressed to get outside before it was too hot.

  When she opened her bedroom door to track down her MP3 player, she nearly jumped out of her skin to see Joe heading straight for her.

  “Morning, sunshine,” he said, smiling warmly as he looked her over.

  She hadn’t brushed her hair yet, hadn’t showered. Thank God she had the compulsive habit of brushing her teeth first thing every morning.

  Why was he smiling at her?

  “Hi,” she said. “Are you here to see my dad?”

  “Already saw him.”

  The tiny glimmer of hope that he’d say he was there for her crashed and burned. “Where is he?” She craned her neck to see into the kitchen. Her dad’s chair was empty.