Four
Ryan
Laying on the bed in my bunk at the firehouse, I stare up at the ceiling, one hand resting on my stomach, the other locked behind my head. It’s been two days. Two whole days. And she’s left me on ‘read’ on our text chat.
I mean, I thought we had a good time. We seemed to hit it off, and she never said don’t call me again. I’ve heard of this happening. I’m not that vain. It can happen to me. I’m genuinely surprised she hasn’t even bothered replying.
There was that hesitancy about her. It felt like we got over that. Apparently not. Maybe she does this to all the guys she dates? No, I didn’t get that sense about her. Maybe she’s just shy, or afraid of taking the next steps.
It’s my day off tomorrow. I could go to her flower shop. She said it was called Love In Bloom. Sitting up, I grab my phone off the side table. I should be sleeping. I’ve been up all day doing some work around the house when I should have been getting rest for my night shift.
All around me, the other guys are sleeping, or just resting on their bunks. Sitting upright, you can see over the cubicle walls around each small ‘room’ we’re allocated. The walls are enough to give you some semblance of privacy.
We’ve been told that they’re going to refurbish the station at some point and create more private rooms, double occupancy though. It’s not a hotel, as the Chief keeps telling us. I’m not sure where they’re gonna get this elusive space. I’m so used to this set up, it’ll be weird as hell getting an actual room to sleep in between call outs.
Being a firefighter was always my life’s dream. It wasn’t all about following in the family’s footsteps. I like the job, I love saving people and the adrenalin rush of running into a burning building excites me. I’m not a complete dickhead, safety comes first and I take my job seriously.
Anyone caught in a fire relies on me. Being an adrenalin junkie is dangerous, and stupid. I’ve known firefighters like that before. Cocky assholes who brag about what they can do, or make stupid choices.
First and foremost, the men and women working alongside you should be your priority, then the people you are there to help, not your own ego.
It doesn’t take long to find the Love in Bloom website. The memory of her saying everyone orders their flowers online these days makes me smile a little. You can order off her website. But she has a brick-and-mortar store. And it’s near to here.
Question is, do I want to risk going there and making a complete ass of myself. She isn’t answering my texts for a reason. I want to know what that reason is. I’m a curious guy, leaving things unfinished isn’t my style. Does my need for understanding what went wrong override her need to not see me again?
God, this shit shouldn’t be so hard. If I have to work for it at this early stage, then it’s not meant to be.
Someone farts across the room and a snicker follows. When you have a group of men sleeping together in the same room, you hear all kinds of things. Fortunately, there is never anyone jacking off. That shit would get stopped in a heartbeat.
The light from my phone is disturbing people too. There is no way I can sleep so I roll up, grab my hoodie and sneakers and slip quietly out of the sleeping quarters. Once through the heavy door, the bright lights of the firehouse sting my eyes, which had grown accustomed to the dark.
It’s quiet as I make my way to the common room. There is a massive kitchen on one side and the common area where there are four couches, with a TV, and a dining area big enough for the full complement of firefighters on shift. Bathrooms are behind the kitchen. The showers are on the other side of the building, near the sleeping quarters.
It’s not decorated here, but it’s warm and there are some pictures on the walls and rugs on the wooden floor. Digger and Jason are in the kitchen, hunched over plates of food. Not sure why they have to eat like animals instead of going to the table.
I head for the industrial sized fridge and take out a bottle of water.
Digger looks over and asks for one, so I toss him mine then take another.
We chat for a while until Digger needs to use the bathroom. That’s putting it politely. The way these guys talk would make their mothers slap their heads.
“Hey, I forgot to ask, how did the date go?” Jason asks as he cleans their dishes.
Blowing out a heavy sigh, I push up and grab an apple from the fruit bowl. “I thought it went good, had a nice time. Took her a while to loosen up, but we got along okay.”
“You thought it went good? What does that mean?”
Glancing around, I make sure we’re alone. Last thing I need is for the guys to hear me talking about this. I’d never hear the end of it. Jason is married with three little girls. He’s more tolerable than some of the single guys. Especially Colt, my cousin, he’d give me shit no end.
“She’s ghosting me.”
“What?” he shakes water and bubbles off his hands and turns, grabbing a towel.
“Yeah, all my messages are on read since the date.”
“That’s weird, she’s usually glued to her phone. Want me to find out what’s up?”
After a moment, I shake my head. “Nah, man. If she isn’t answering, she didn’t think the same about the date. I’m not gonna pressure or make her feel uncomfortable.”
“Still, that’s bad news man. Who does that?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I shrug again.
Jason watches me for a moment, drying his hands. He tosses the towel on the counter and walks over, slapping my shoulder. “You’ll just have to hook up with one of those chicks throwing themselves at you all the time.”
“Yeah, right,” I smirk.
As he walks away, the smile drops off my face. Hook ups aren’t my thing. I’m looking for a relationship, not a woman who wants to be with me because of what I do. Lifting my phone, the internet is still open on her webpage.
It’s pointless but I flick over to the ‘contact us’ page. My breath stutters when I see her on the page, with a small bio about her. There are pictures of two other women who work there, and one of an older lady, I assume is her Grams.
My lip tilts at the picture of a large tortoise, sitting on the counter in the shop. The three women are standing with him, all smiling. Hell, even Lurch looks like he is smiling at the camera.
It would have been nice to be a part of that. This is just pointless torture, she’s not interested. Still, I stare at her picture again, then go to the short bio.
Wait…
That can’t be right. I read it again. Sylvie Pearson. Why does it say her name is Sylvie Pearson? My first instinct is to question whether she did it to protect herself on a blind date? No, Jason’s wife knows Alison, and she did text me twice before the date. What the fuck is going on?
Before I can go after Jason to ask what he knows, the alarm goes off. We’ve got a fire.
Shit. I close the page down and pocket my phone, running out to the garage where our gear is hung up. Everyone is coming out of wherever they’ve been spending their down time. There is no fooling around now, no worrying about anything else.
All we’re thinking about is getting to this fire. And hoping there is no one in danger. Followed quickly by the adrenalin surge that comes from knowing we’re about to step into danger.
It’s in our blood.
Our lieutenant briefs us, while the call is made that we’re en route to other first responders. Everyone has their role in the rig. I hold my helmet on my lap as the sirens blare through the quiet night.
When I see the building burning in the distance, all thoughts of anything else leave my brain.