Branded: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)
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