February Burning: A Firefighter Secret Baby Romance

by Chase Jackson

  The softness in his face suddenly hardened, and he narrowed his eyes.

  “It’s my responsibility, too,” he said. “I want to be involved.”

  “Josh…” my voice trailed off and I shook my head.

  “What?” he snapped. “If you want to act like nothing ever happened between us, that’s fine. But you can’t pull that shit with our baby.”

  Our baby. That was another phrase that was going to take some getting used to…

  “I’m just trying to prevent this from being more painful than it has to be,” I said. “Nobody should be forced into parenthood. That just leads to resentment. When I was growing up, my father made it very obvious that I was a mistake, and that he didn’t want me. I think that’s what ultimately led to him walking out on my mom and I. And I’m not saying you’d do the same thing, but I don’t want my baby to feel like--”

  “Our baby,” Josh corrected me, glaring.

  “I don’t want our baby to ever feel like he or she was unwanted.”

  “You’re not the only one with daddy issues, you know,” he snapped. I could see the anger flooding his face; his eyes were still and cold, and his nostrils were flared. “Maybe my dad stuck around physically, but he was checked out emotionally.”

  “Josh...” I tried again, swallowing the lump in the back of my throat.

  “I’m not going to check out on my kid,” Josh shook his head. “No way. I’m not abandoning them.”

  “You say that now,” I said. “But what happens when that kid keeps you awake, screaming all night long, and you have work in the morning? What happens when that kid has a piano recital or a parent teacher conference, but you have to miss it because there’s an emergency at the firehouse? What happens when you can’t go out for drinks with the guys anymore, because instead you need to be at home making EasyMac for dinner and helping with math homework? What happens then?”

  “What do you mean, what happens then?” Josh snapped. “I’d make the best damn EasyMac in the world and solve the shit out of that math homework.”

  “Josh,” I sighed. “This is a big commitment…”

  “And you’re acting like I’ve failed before you’ve even given me a chance,” Josh said. “Let me ask you this: what makes you any more qualified to be a parent than me?”

  I gulped, because despite all of my stubbornness, I knew there wasn’t an answer for that. He was right.

  “I’m not more qualified,” I admitted. “But I know that I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Neither am I,” Josh said. “Just give me a chance to prove that to you.”

  There was something so earnest and honest about the look in his eyes. I felt myself caving…

  “Fine,” I said. “But there are going to be some ground rules.”

  “Fine by me,” Josh said. “Name ‘em.”

  “Rule number one,” I said, “We’re not dating.”

  Josh raised an eyebrow, and for the first time since I had sat down at the table, that playful expression returned to his face.

  “Do you really think you’re going to be able to resist me?”

  “I don’t do relationships,” I told him sternly.

  “Well you’ve already made that point abundantly clear,” he smirked.

  “If we’re going to make this work,” I continued, “It has to be strictly business between us.”

  “Ok,” he said. “I’ve got a rule, too.”

  “Shoot.”

  “No sleeping with other people,” he said. “At least until the baby is born. I don’t want my kid getting poked by some other guy’s pickle…”

  “You’re disgusting,” I grimaced, even though there was secretly something that turned me on about him wanting me all to himself. “But fine. No sleeping with other people. And that rule applies to both of us.”

  He raised an eyebrow and smirked, but he didn’t object.

  “Think you can keep it in your pants that long?” I asked, nodding under the table.

  “Fair is fair,” he shrugged. “What about sleeping with each other?”

  My stomach flopped and my pussy throbbed. My mind flashed back to the bathtub, and that itch that I couldn’t quite scratch on my own…

  “Only in moments of absolute desperation,” I said dryly.

  His lips twisted into an amused smirk.

  “You’re really something,” he shook his head.

  Before I could ask him what he meant by that, the waiter popped up at the end of our table to take our order.

  “She’ll have one of everything on the menu,” Josh told the waiter. “And I’ll have the chicken salad.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN | JOSH

  “Joshua,” Duke announced as he wrangled my shoulder under the crook of his arm, “I can already tell that this is gonna be the start of something really fuckin’ beautiful.”

  I rolled my eyes and shoved my way out of his embrace. It was moving day, and we were standing in the kitchen of our new apartment, surrounded by piles of partially unpacked cardboard boxes.

  “Jeez, Duke,” I teased as I reached for my bottle of Corona and took a swig, “You move fast. We’ve only been living together for three hours and you’re already trying to get into my pants? At least let me finish my beer first!”

  “Don’t listen to him, Joshy,” a voice grunted from behind a stack of cardboard boxes that had strode into the room. “He says that shit to all the girls!”

  Troy Hart heaved the stack of boxes onto the granite countertop, then he tugged up the hem of his Firehouse 56 t-shirt and used it to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow, in the process revealing his washboard abs. This time Duke and I both rolled out eyes.

  If a mythical Greek warrior and an Abercrombie & Fitch model had a lovechild, the result would be Troy Hart. The guy had muscles that would make John Cena blush, and he had the sort of pretty boy face that made Brad Pitt look like he belonged on the cast of Trailer Park Boys. He was also the only human being in existence to successfully rock the ‘man bun’: his sun-bleached blonde hair was yanked back into a tiny nub on the back of his head, and instead of looking fucking ridiculous, it somehow made him look like even more of a badass.

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to hate the guy, or have a crush on him. Maybe a little bit of both?

  Today, he had graciously agreed to help Duke and I move into our new place. The process had started early in the morning, when we had loaded all of our earthly possessions into the back of a U-Haul truck. Truth be told, I probably could have squeezed everything I owned into the bed of my pick-up truck and made a single trip. Duke, on the other hand…well, let’s just say he came with some ‘excess baggage.’

  And by ‘excess baggage,’ I mean the sort of random shit that only rich people collect. Like…a statue of a woman’s bare bust, hand-carved out of carrara marble and affixed for display on a 14k gold stand. Or a cinema-grade film projector and sound system. Or an original Scarface movie poster, complete with an autograph and personalized dedication from Al Pacino himself.

  Because what bachelor pad would be complete without a Scarface movie poster, right?

  “Where should I put this stuff?” Troy asked. He popped open the cardboard flaps of the box that was resting on top of the stack that he had just carried in, then he peered down at its contents: “Looks like an assortment of lubricants, handcuffs, nipple clamps, and…” he frowned and cocked his head, “Are these anal beads?”

  “Fuck off, Troy,” Duke scowled. He quickly swiped the box away from Troy, then refolded the cardboard flaps shut.

  “I always knew you were an ass man,” I teased, nudging Duke’s shoulder playfully.

  “They’re not mine,” Duke huffed.

  “Sure,” Troy smirked, unconvinced. “You rich people are always into that kinky shit.”

  “Have you ever ripped a string of anal beads out of a girl’s asshole?” Duke challenged him with a dirty grin. “It’s like yanking the pull str
ing on a chainsaw.”

  Then he arched his back on the granite countertop and simulated the sound of a chainsaw engine roaring to life.

  “Whatever works for you, buddy,” I said with an amused smirk.

  “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Duke said, straightening up from the countertop and reaching for his beer.

  “No thanks,” Troy smirked. “I’m a traditionalist. I don’t need toys to please a woman. I’ve already got everything I need right here.” He bucked his hips forward and cocked an eyebrow suggestively.

  “That’s really cute, Troy,” Duke sneered. “But some women want more than just a big dick.”

  “I’ve never had any complaints,” Troy wiggled his eyebrows. Then he glanced at the watch on his wrist: “Speaking of which…I’ve gotta get out of here. This ‘big dick’ of mine has a hot date tonight.”

  Troy grabbed his motorcycle helmet off of the kitchen counter and headed towards the front of the apartment.

  “You lovebirds have a good night,” he called over his shoulder. “And Josh…make sure you watch your ass around Duke.”

  “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out!” Duke called back, but the door had already slammed shut behind Troy.

  “So…is that the real reason why you insisted on having the bedroom with the bigger closet?” I teased, nodding back at Duke’s box of ‘toys.’ “You planning on converting it into some sort of secret sex dungeon?”

  “No way,” Duke rolled his eyes as he dropped the cardboard box in a pile at the edge of the kitchen. “I need that closet space for my suit collection.”

  Of course you do, I thought with a smirk. Although working at Firehouse 56 didn’t exactly give Duke Williams the opportunity to flaunt it, the guy had an impressive wardrobe: everything from bespoke wool suits to designer denim.

  At the moment, he was wearing a pair of $1500 cashmere Tom Ford sweatpants…and I only knew that because he had used those damn sweatpants as an excuse for not helping Troy and I load his 55-gallon sapphire glass aquarium tank into the back of the U-Haul truck.

  “I wasn’t kidding about what I said, you know,” Duke said, grabbing a fresh bottle of Corona from the stainless steel refrigerator. “I think us sharing this place is gonna be epic. It’s like being in college all over again.”

  “Except…I never went to college,” I reminded him. And even if I had, I added to myself, I’m sure it would have been like night-and-day compared to whatever uppercrest Ivy League fraternity that Duke popped out of…

  “Ok,” my new roommate shrugged. “Then consider this your initiation: day one, freshman year.”

  He tapped the neck of his Corona against mine and wrapped his arm around my shoulders again.

  “You and I are about to embark on this wild adventure together,” Duke said ambitiously. “There’s going to be booze, women, parties…crazy nights where we forget our own names…”

  “This doesn’t sound all that different to how life was before--” I started to say, but Duke cut me off.

  “‘Single’ isn’t just a tax status anymore, Joshy,” he continued, assuming a regal tone of voice -- like he was a general delivering a pep-talk before leading his troops into battle. “This is a lifestyle. This is bachelorhood.”

  He clapped his hand tightly around my shoulder.

  “It’s not just about having a good time,” he said meaningfully. “When you live with another man, you learn his secrets; you discover who he really is. We’re not just roommates; we’re brothers.”

  Speaking of secrets…

  I sighed and, for the second time that night, I shrugged his arm off of my shoulder.

  While Duke was waxing poetic on the trials and tribulations of bachelorhood, all I could think about was the very different adventure that I was about to find myself embarking on: the adventure known as ‘parenthood.’

  In less than six months, I was going to be a father…and I still hadn’t shared the news with my new roommate. Or anyone else, for that matter. Hell, I hadn’t even told my own brother yet. I guess I was still trying to make sense of it all, myself…

  But the more I listened to Duke ramble about the exploits and misadventures that he had planned for our new ‘bachelor’ pad, the more I realized that I owed him the truth. I had to tell him that my vision of the future had less to do with boozy parties and panty-dropping, and more to do with baby-proofing and diaper-duty.

  And as it turned out, that revelation was going to be made sooner rather than later: I was still trying to think of a way to break the news to Duke, when I heard him break into a sudden howl of laughter from across the kitchen.

  My eyes shot up, and I caught him rifling through one of the cardboard boxes that I had packed up earlier.

  “What the hell is this?!” Duke asked with an amused snort as he lifted a book out of the box and waved it in front of me: What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

  I had ordered the baby bible off of Amazon immediately after meeting Vanessa for dinner the other night. I knew that I was facing an uphill battle, and I knew that I needed to prove to her that I was serious about being involved with the baby. One way to prove that was by educating myself.

  Since then, I had been reading a few chapters every night before bed. I had skipped over the prenatal advice -- too late for that, I figured -- and I had navigated straight into the thick of it: the trimesters. I wasn’t sure whether I should feel horrified by the savagery of pregnancy, or in awe of what a woman’s body was capable of. One thing was for damn sure: I had a newfound respect and admiration for mothers. And for Vanessa, too...

  But that wasn’t exactly a sentiment that I planned on sharing with Duke as he waved the book over his head.

  “You kinky bastard!” he chortled. “You have a pregnancy fetish, don’t you?”

  I slammed my beer on the counter and made a swipe for the book, ripping it out of Duke’s hand.

  “It’s not like that!” I glared.

  “Relax!” Duke said, seeming all too pleased that the conversation had finally shifted away from his box of anal beads and titty teasers, and onto my alleged ‘fetish.’

  “I’m not judging you, Joshy,” he continued with a shit-eating grin. “In fact, I’ve known lots of guys who had a thing for pregnant chicks. I mean, granted I’ve never actually known someone that got their rocks off by reading a book about it, but there’s a first time for everything I guess--”

  “Jesus, Duke,” I grunted as I rolled my eyes. “Not everything is a fetish. I’m not reading that book to ‘get my rocks off.’”

  “Uh-huh, sure,” Duke smirked. “So why are you reading it? Trying to make up for the fact that you flunked out of sex-ed in high school?”

  “I definitely didn’t flunk out of sex-ed.”

  “What is it, then?” His grin stretched even wider; if there was one thing that Duke Williams loved, it was making an ass out of anyone but himself. “Are your loins ablaze with the sudden, primal urge to procreate or something?”

  I cleared my throat and huffed out a deep breath, then I blurted out:

  “Actually, I’m going to be a father.”

  “That’s funny,” Duke said, but neither one of us was laughing.

  “Did you mean to say uncle?” Duke asked. His tone was suddenly serious, and his eyes were narrowed. “Is Brady having a baby with Cassidy, and you’re going to be an uncle? Is that what you meant?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I shook my head. “Brady’s not the one having a baby. I am.”

  As soon as I said that, it hit me: for the first time in my life, I had beat my big brother at something. Brady might have been running laps around me when it came to having a career, owning a house, or even getting hitched…but when it came to fatherhood, I had somehow slid into the lead.

  I was venturing into uncharted territory; there were no footsteps to follow or shadow to hide in. For the first time, I was leading the way instead of following behind my big brother.

  �
��Timeout,” Duke said, making a ‘T’ shape with his hands. “When did this happen?! And with who?”

  “It happened…a while ago,” I said sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. I had no intention of hashing out the events of that night for Duke’s amusement.

  “Wait a second...” Duke’s eyes suddenly widened and that snide grin returned to his face. “Was it that random chick you bonked at Brady’s wedding?”

  “She wasn’t some ‘random chick,’” I glared, feeling suddenly defensive. “Her name is Vanessa.” That was confirmation enough for Duke:

  “Holy shit!” his face lit up with glee. “So…I take it things didn’t exactly work out between you two?”

  “It’s more of a work in progress at the moment,” I admitted. “How’d you guess?”

  “Well, you’re here, for a start,” Duke pointed out, nodding around at our partially unpacked bachelor pad.

  “Touche,” I sighed. “Listen, Duke…I didn’t know that any of this was going to happen when I signed the lease for this place, but I do know that I plan on being a part of this kid’s life. If you want to find a new roommate once the baby is born, I understand."

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Duke rolled his eyes. “I thought I made myself clear: when you share your home with a man, you enter into a covenant. You’re like my brother now, and what do brothers do?”

  “Well...” I thought about my actual brother, and I realized that I had no idea how Brady would react to the news. I also had no idea how I was supposed to tell him that I was expecting a child with the maid of honor from his wedding...

  “Brothers stick together,” Duke answered for me, “Through thick and thin; through babes and babies. I’ve got your back, Joshy.” Then, to prove his point, he clapped his open palm on my shoulder blade and grinned.

  “Thanks, Duke,” I said sincerely. “That really means a lot.”

  Knowing that I had someone in my corner did mean a lot. I hadn’t expected such a warm reaction, especially not from Duke.

  Who knows, I thought to myself. Maybe Duke Williams has a heart, after all…

  Before I could get too far with that thought, Duke snapped me back to reality: