The Heat Is On (Boston Five Book 1)

by Anderson, Poppy J.

  “You’re going to regret this one day …”

  Heath shook his head. “You’re repeating yourself.”

  “If you go on acting like this, it won’t be long until she meets another guy. Do you really want to stand by and watch a new guy move into your dream house?”

  It took all his strength not to crush the glass in his hand. “Hayden told me today that she wants to sell the house. So it’s unlikely she’ll live there with her new man.”

  Groaning, his sister shook her head. “But it is your house. Both of yours. You can’t let her sell it.”

  “I’ve had it, Kayleigh, so you better listen to me now.” He looked her straight in the eye, hoping to look grim enough to make her drop it. “Hayden and I are going separate ways. We don’t live together anymore, and we won’t be getting back together. Never. She gets it, so it’s time you wrap your head around it, too. And while you’re at it, you can tell our brothers to drop the subject, too.”

  She snorted indignantly. “They’re your problem, not mine!” When her fist hit the bar, the barman shot her a curious glance, but then he turned back to wiping glasses. “If you don’t like them being worried about you, you can talk to each of them yourself.”

  “Worried?” he echoed derisively, leaning back on his stool. “My little brother cornered me in the grocery store and then had the nerve to ask me about my sex life!”

  Kayleigh glared at him. “Did you really sleep with other women?”

  Heath ran a hand through his hair in irritation. “That is none of your goddamn business! What gives you the right to ask me a thing like that?”

  “You making Hayden cry, you stupid jerk!”

  His throat went tight again, but he shrugged it off. “She wanted to hear it from me—”

  “Do you really have nothing better to do than screw around while everyone else is mourning Dad’s passing?” She slid down from her stool and gave him one last, disparaging look. “I never would have thought that I’d ever be ashamed of you. Congratulations, Heath. Maybe Hayden is really better off without you.”

  Wasn’t it supposed to rain at funerals?

  Heath was sitting between his mom and Hayden, feeling paralyzed, staring up at the blue sky over the cemetery. In every movie he’d ever seen, it was raining when a funeral was taking place. It would pour, and the world would look bleak and gray. But at his father’s funeral, the sun was shining and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. It was actually rather hot for an April day, and he was sweating underneath his uniform, which he’d scrambled into while his shoulder burned like fire. The injury was still throbbing badly now, causing him discomfort and pain, but that wasn’t the worst part.

  What was much worse was the grating sound of the casket being lowered into the freshly dug grave as the bagpipes played “Amazing Grace” and Hayden softly sobbed, burying her face against his uninjured shoulder.

  It was weird, he thought, distracted. You would think the equipment would be checked before every funeral so that a sound like the jarring squeal wouldn’t happen. A few drops of oil would probably have eliminated it, and then his dad could have been put to rest without this noise that reminded him of a rat being run over.

  He didn’t turn around to see all the dignitaries, firefighters, and policemen standing behind him. He was seated in the first row reserved for the family.

  His mom squeezed his hand while she blinked at the casket, which was still descending into the earth, accompanied by the horrific squeal. He wanted to do something about the grating sound, but since he couldn’t, he just sat there, stiff as a statue, and as stone-faced, too. Hayden’s sobs were on one side of him, the squeeze of his mother’s hand on the other.

  When the mayor handed his mom the folded flag that had lain on the casket only moments before, she could no longer suppress a sob of her own. She thanked the man hoarsely for his condolences. A fireman’s funeral was always an official affair, but when the highly decorated chief of a department lost his life while on active duty, the town’s dignitaries insisted on making it a small act of state. He threw a quick glance to the side and met his brother’s eyes. To honor his father, Shane was wearing his gala uniform, too, and he was staring at Heath. The unspoken accusation in his brother’s eyes made him press his lips together.

  Neither his mom nor Hayden, the twins or Kayleigh, and least of all his colleagues, held him responsible for his father’s death. When he had woken up in the ER, Kayleigh had been sitting next to his bed, red-eyed, and the first thing she said was that he was not to blame. And in the hall in front of his room, half the department had waited to hear how he would fare, the men still sooty and exhausted from the fatal operation.

  Heath wasn’t injured badly. Minor smoke inhalation, an injured shoulder, and a burn on his upper back—it was really nothing. He was allowed to leave the hospital the next day, with the awful knowledge that his dad had lost his life in the line of duty. While he, himself, had survived.

  After he’d given his formal report on the accident while still in the hospital, neither his fellow firefighters nor his mother had asked him how his dad had died. Shane was the only one who wanted to know the details. Who wasn’t satisfied with the official report.

  Heath couldn’t even blame him.

  They’d almost come to blows over Shane’s questions and his subsequent dogged silence, and then they stopped talking completely. Shane never said the words, but it was clear he blamed Heath for their dad’s death. It didn’t matter, because Heath did feel responsible.

  And now he had to add another sin to his list of transgressions.

  Hayden.

  At the funeral, she sat next to him, crying for the only father she had left, one hand comfortingly on his arm. The night before, she hadn’t objected when he woke her from a deep sleep and practically tore into her. God, he’d behaved like an animal before collapsing next to her in a trembling heap. She had neither slapped him nor yelled at him; instead, she had turned to him, put her arms around him, and hadn’t let go for the rest of the night, while he thought he would go mad with self-loathing.

  He didn’t know what had gotten into him.

  That wasn’t him.

  He didn’t want to be like that.

  His eyes were dry as they followed Father Brady slowly circle the open grave, sprinkling it with holy water, blessing it, and reciting a prayer.

  Next to him, Hayden murmured the same psalm, crossed herself, and then leaned back into his shoulder, at the same time stroking his icy hand in a comforting manner. She was shaking so hard he had to take her by the arm to help her stand after the service. When his mother burst into desperate sobs, Kyle was there to support her, together with Shane. Heath screwed up his eyes and decided he would never cause Hayden this kind of pain. Never.

  Chapter 5

  “Hayden? Do you have a minute?”

  Hayden looked up from her newspaper and saw the friendly face of her principal. She’d been alone in the teachers’ lounge, because the lunch bell had rung a minute earlier. Most teachers had hurried to grab a bite in the cafeteria and brace themselves for the afternoon portion of their day. Hayden put her paper aside and gestured to the empty chair next to hers. “Of course, Mr. Horrace. What can I do for you?”

  Mr. Horrace was a gaunt man, with pants that ended above the ankle and seemed to reach up to his armpits. She’d heard some of the more astute students call him Half-mast-Horrace, and she had to admit it was hard not to smile at that. Of course, she’d maintained a straight and stern face, reminding the urchins that it was not okay to make fun of their teachers, let alone their principal. But it had been funny anyway. His strangely cut pants and the springy gait with which he walked through the hallways surely invited a nickname like that.With a sigh, he sat down on the slightly rickety chair, remaining curiously straight, even when sitting. “Well … I just received a rather unpleasant call.”

  Even though his face maintained the same friendly expression, she immediately thought of the ti
mes she’d been called at school before. Both times, she had received devastating news. Less than four months ago, while she was in the middle of supervising a test, she’d been summoned to the phone in the secretary’s office, where they’d told her both Heath and Joe had been injured during a job and were in the hospital. By the time she’d arrived at the ER, Joe had already passed.

  The first time she was called at school, she’d been in fourth grade—as a student, not the teacher. The principal had come to her classroom and taken her to his office, where Joe was waiting to tell her that her dad had been shot and killed on active duty. She still shuddered at the thought of a firefighter being shot by dealers while he was trying to extinguish a fire in an abandoned factory building where they happened to have set up their illegal drug kitchen.

  Horrace brought her back to the present. “Justin Miller’s father called to complain about you.”

  She immediately relaxed a little and let out a sigh of relief. “Really? What did he say?”

  Mr. Horrace rolled his eyes. “He said you gave his son an F and wrote a note on the test saying that he was in danger of having to repeat fourth grade.”

  “That is correct,” she admitted, leaning back in her chair.

  “Mr. Miller thinks you don’t want his son in your class and fail him on purpose.”

  She shook her head in exasperation. “Failing Justin wouldn’t get rid of him—it would mean he’s in my class again! But it’s true—Justin refuses to participate in class or do his homework, and he keeps failing the tests. I’ve already tried to warn Mr. Miller that he might have to repeat the grade, but he doesn’t take me seriously at all. Instead, he always threatens to file a complaint against me.”

  “Which he has done,” the principal said carefully. He seemed to be suppressing a smirk.

  Hayden adopted an amused tone as well. “Are you going to give me a warning for this, or am I suspended?”

  “If I had to suspend every teacher who fails a student whose performance is inadequate, I’d have to hire robots to educate the kids. Have you decided whether he’ll move up yet?”

  Hayden took a large folder from her bag, opening it and searching for the relevant papers. Then she placed Justin’s performance chart on the table. She was relieved that she had painstakingly recorded every single lesson and taken copious notes. She pointed to her flawless documentation. “Due to his non-existent achievements, he’ll have no choice but to repeat. He’s already far behind most of his classmates.”

  “His father will not be happy to hear that.”

  She shrugged and replied, “It’s not as if this was an out-of-the-blue decision. I’ve been telling Mr. Miller for months about the problem with his son’s performance. I suggested private lessons or special tutoring, but he refused.”

  “He didn’t sound like a pleasant fellow on the phone. He’s the parent who recently broke a chair in your classroom, isn’t he?”

  She nodded and folded her hands in her lap. “He’s very aggressive, and frankly, he stank of alcohol. And since Justin has some major behavioral issues, I asked the school psychologist to have a word with him, too. He agrees with me that Justin is prone to violence. He’s far above average in that respect.”

  “I know Justin,” the concerned principal sighed. “The boy is bent on destruction. Only a week ago, he caused absolute mayhem during P.E. Ms. Pembroke told me he destroyed some hockey sticks in his anger.”

  Hayden cocked her head to the side, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m really concerned about Justin. I informed Child Protective Services, in the hope that they’ll look into what’s going on in his family.”

  “That was certainly the right decision on your part, but I don’t think Mr. Miller will be thrilled to hear it.”

  At the current moment, Hayden had many worrisome things on her mind, so she wasn’t that interested in Mr. Miller and his imminent wrath. A teacher often had to deal with both students and parents who felt they were being treated unfairly. Normally, she would go over the evidence once again and make sure she hadn’t been too harsh in her assessment, but in Justin’s case, there was no way around the fact that he had not even remotely met the demands of a fourth grade student.

  Whether his father agreed with her on that was irrelevant.

  “There is something else I wanted to ask you, Hayden,” Mr. Horrace went on, “even though I feel bad about the request, considering what you went through recently. But I still don’t have anyone to teach that last summer class. I wouldn’t ask you if the substitute hadn’t just canceled on me … just two weeks before break begins.”

  Summer school was among the most thankless tasks a teacher could assume. Hayden had long resolved to enjoy her time off, instead of taking the lousy extra money you could make teaching summer classes. She didn’t really need the money anyway, but she did need a vacation. Still, she found herself nodding resignedly. At least it would distract her and give her something to do.

  Hayden waited inside the small pizza place, which was only a few blocks from her house, barely refraining from fanning herself. The monstrous stone oven only added to the summer heat that gripped the entire city. Kayleigh now owed her one, Hayden mused, as she had been the one who was supposed to go get the pizza in the first place.

  But her friend had been held up at the hospital, so Hayden had walked here to procure something delicious to eat. She hadn’t eaten much at all recently. It wasn’t that she needed to lose weight, but her appetite was fickle and so intertwined with her emotions. Today, however, she’d finally felt truly hungry for a change, so she hadn’t wanted to wait much longer, in case the feeling passed.

  When someone tapped her shoulder, she flinched, afraid it would be a familiar face looking to talk about her life, but when she turned, she saw a face she couldn’t immediately place.

  “Hello …” she said hesitantly, as the wheels turned in her brain, taking in the blond with the wide smile. “Oh, Alec! Is that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered nonchalantly, and then nodded at the pizza chef. “How are you, Hayden?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Cocking her head to the side, she studied him. “Are you on duty?”

  “No, I’m off.” He pointed to his outfit, which consisted of a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “My next shift isn’t until the day after next.”

  “Ah, the luxury,” Hayden teased. She suddenly remembered with clarity how he’d first attempted to flirt with her and then abruptly left the house when Shane started to act all macho. Her gaze cast itself down to the floor.

  “It actually isn’t that luxurious,” Alec said playfully. “I need to repair a few things in my new apartment and put in new floors, so there won’t be much left of my time off when I’m done.”

  “I can imagine.” Looking up, she gave him a little smile. “Handyman stuff can really take the fun out of a day off. Do you still have a lot to get done today?”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “My skills are only mediocre, I’m afraid. That means I take a little longer to get things done. Once the kitchen is finished, I’ll be satisfied, though, because I’ve had enough fast food to last a lifetime.” The pizza chef snorted. Alec grinned at him. “No offense to you, Tony.”

  Hayden giggled, putting a hand over her mouth and shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Shane didn’t tell me how long you’ve been in Boston.”

  “My new partner is pretty taciturn, I’ve noticed.”

  “He’s a good guy,” she replied automatically, feeling the need to come to his defense. Loving Shane like a brother, she generously overlooked most of his quirks and hardly ever found fault with him. Until recently.

  His new partner, however, seemed like the stereotypical stubborn detective, because he gave her a surprised look and stated, “I didn’t mean to imply anything else. Shane and I are getting along great, even though we’ve only been working together a few weeks.”

  Hayden nodded and smiled softly. “Well, as soon as that vein on his temple starts
throbbing, you should watch out. And take away his gun.”

  Alec guffawed at that. “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

  Shane had constantly been at loggerheads with his old partner, so Hayden hoped he would get along better with Alec. So far, the friendly blond man seemed much more affable than the older detective Shane had been partnered with for the last year and a half. He also seemed much more sympathetic to Shane’s Irish temper. She was still studying him with a smile on her face when she asked, with the polite curiosity of a true Bostonian, “You still haven’t told me where you’re from.”

  “I guess there wasn’t much time to properly introduce myself when we invaded your house and demolished your casserole and apple pie. I hope you weren’t too appalled by our intrusion.”

  “You must not know Shane that well then.” Hayden shrugged. “He comes to raid my fridge on a regular basis.”

  Alec grinned apologetically. “That may be the case, but I don’t normally go looting other people’s fridges, especially if I don’t even know their pretty owners yet.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  When his eyes stared briefly at her mouth, she felt herself become nervous. It wasn’t the tingling excitement you’d feel right before someone kissed you, or even the kind you feel when you discover a pair of really classy shoes on sale. It was more like the blank anxiety that would wash over you when the teacher caught you cheating on a test, or when you had to explain to your mother why you were hiding a box of condoms in your underwear drawer.

  Thankfully, his eyes wandered back up to meet hers, as he asked, “Did you get that faucet fixed? If not, I could take a look at it now.”

  She felt the heat rise in her face as she shook her head. “No,” she hastened to say. “No, the faucet is working just fine again. But thanks for the offer.”