Chapter 4
FOUR
NORTH
Hello, foot, I’d like you to meet your new friend, Mr. Mouth. You’re going to be living in there for a while because apparently, I don’t know when to shut my fucking trap.
There’s nothing like the guilt of making fun of a guy who literally can’t help himself. And I don’t know who the fuck I think I’m judging, considering I eat like a slob, and I don’t have a TBI.
But there’s something about the way Leo looks at me, like I’m pond scum floating in the shallow bed of cattails, that just…fuck. I don’t know. It makes me feel some type of way, and I don’t like it.
It’s been happening since the day I walked into his house and saw him naked.
I know it’s not the fact that I’m a guy because he was married to a man, so he totally swings my way.
But maybe I’m the opposite of his type, and the idea of me looking at him like I wanted to pin him to the wall and kiss the shock off his face disgusted him so badly he’s decided to hate me forever.
I’d ask Easton about it, but every time I bring his brother up, he waves me off and tells me that Leo’s always been a little weird.
Easton is also wildly protective over his little brother, and I can understand why. They have disinterested parents, and though I don’t know all the details, I do know that Leo was in a bad accident and lost his husband because of it. So Easton tends to take everything about his brother personally.
Which is why I know I’m in for it when he storms upstairs and gives me a furious look from underneath his soft curls.
“Bro…”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was trying to make a joke, and it came out badly, and…shit. Did I hurt his feelings?”
Easton’s shoulders sag, and he walks over to the couch, sinking down in the spot Leo abandoned.
Covering his face, he takes a few breaths, then peeks at me.
“He said he was fine, but he always says he’s fine, and I don’t know if I should believe him.
He hasn’t been taking care of himself, and… I don’t know. I feel like a failure.”
I walk over, glancing at the food that was supposed to be for Rune, and push away my irritation. I can make him more. It’s not like I don’t have a mountain of ingredients here.
And I know for a fact that Leo doesn’t feed himself. The proof is in his too-thin, gaunt face, though he’s gotten better about taking care of himself in the last year and a half.
Not that I’ve been watching.
Except, well, I’ve been watching.
He might hate me, and I sometimes really want to smack him in the mouth when he’s being a jackass, but I’ve had a raging crush since the day I saw him in all his glory.
“How bad is it?” I sit beside him and lean back against the corner of the couch. “Like, call someone bad?”
He grimaces but shakes his head. “No. I don’t think it’s like that. I think he’s just…I don’t know…willing to accept things as they are. It’s like he’s settled into the idea that he’s going to live the rest of his life all sad and alone with his horrible little fish.”
“Are they horrible?”
Easton rolls his eyes. “They’re guppies. Anyway, I know he’s trying. Teddy’s taking him to the store tonight so he has more than moldy bread and sour milk, but I don’t think he’s eaten today.”
I sit up straight and glance at the half-eaten food.
“Fuck. He should have finished that.” Easton gives me a look, and I throw up my hands in surrender.
“I know, I know. It’s my fault. But in my defense, today kind of sucked, and I was in my head when I saw him.
I’ll make him some stuff you can take to his place.
I have time, and we both know I’m not going to sleep tonight.
” I always sleep like shit here, but it’s worse after a complicated call.
“He does love your chicken and dumplings,” Easton says, his voice slow in thought. “I haven’t stocked his freezer in a while, and all he ever makes for himself is peanut butter and jam sandwiches.”
Something in me softens. Leo hates me but loves my food, and I’m the only one helping him get a balanced meal. I can deal with that. “I think I have everything I need for that. And you promise he doesn’t just throw it all away?”
Easton snorts. “No. He gets pissy when he runs out. The only thing that annoys him is your crows tearing up his trash.”
Well, fuck. If I’d known the birds were going to be a problem, I might not have—no. No, I don’t even finish the thought because I love my little murder, and I don’t regret them. Even if they’re pissing off the neighbors.
“I’ll see if I can do something about that,” I lie.
There’s actually nothing I can do about wild birds who have a thing for eating garbage.
Leaning back, I kick my feet up onto his lap, and he gives me an irritated look, but he quickly begins to massage my feet over my socks.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, babe. ”
“Mhm.” He grimaces, but I know he’s putting on an act. The fact is, we’re a weird little family, and taking care of each other matters.
“So,” I say after some awkward silence. “Today was rough.” We haven’t talked about it yet, but I see him swallow thickly. “You good?”
“Never better.”
“Easton.”
“North,” he mimics my tone, but he doesn’t look over at me.
After a moment, he shrugs and leans back, taking my feet with him.
“I was scared for a minute. Like really scared. That kid looked like he was going to go into fucking cardiac arrest, and I wasn’t sure we’d be able to stabilize him before the worst happened. ”
I reach over and squeeze my fingers around his wrist. “Even if he’d coded, we would have been able to bring him back. But remember, he was fine because you were able to cut him out of there. This wasn’t like before.”
Before means the drowning. Easton’s first call after training. It had gone as badly as any call could go. It was a little boy, less than three years old, and the panic had spread around the pool party, and no one was able to help him before the paramedics arrived on scene.
Easton’s truck had been closest, so they beat the EMTs.
He started CPR right away, but it was too late.
They could never get him breathing again, and once—when he was very drunk—Easton told me that watching the EMTs take his limp body into the ambulance, knowing it was over, had almost destroyed him.
Camilo had given him two weeks off work to recover, and we didn’t see each other much during that time. He came back a little better, and I was pretty sure it had something to do with taking care of his brother.
Another thing I appreciated Leo for, even if he was never going to appreciate me.
“Anyway, the worst that happened today was getting puked on.”
“And the shit,” he says with a tiny grin.
I grimace. “And the shit, but we’ve all had worse than that.”
Easton snorts and makes a face, which I fully understand in ways a lot of people won’t if they’ve never worked this job.
Right now, we have a tally board for calls involving inappropriate things up people’s asses. There seems to be an epidemic lately, and when we get to twenty-five, Camilo’s ordering the giant five-foot sub from my favorite Italian deli at the edge of town.
I’m not exactly hoping more people put strange objects in their buttholes, but I do love a good sandwich.
“I think my anxiety is getting a little better when the calls involve kids,” he says after a long pause. “I didn’t have a full-blown panic attack when we got back, so that’s progress.”
I wish I could make that pain stop for him, but I also get it. I have my moments. I don’t show them often. I don’t like talking about my past, and every time someone finds out about my mom’s ex-husband or sees my scars, they ask questions.
It’s why I don’t like to shower in front of strangers.
It’s why I always wear T-shirts with longer sleeves, even when it’s hot outside.
And it’s why I always wear my rash guard when we take beach trips.
Easton drops my feet and twists his body, leaning against me. The pressure of his weight is grounding, calming in a way I’ve come to expect but I’m still not used to.
And this?
This is nice.
It would be nicer if Easton were my type, but I’ve always been more into the mouthy, dark-haired, doe-eyed type. Which, unfortunately, Leo fits almost exactly.
But that doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve given up trying to find anyone. I’ll live alone, die a virgin, and hope that no one figures it out after putting me in the ground.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he says. “If it wasn’t the call, what is it?”
“Nothing, really.”
“North.”
With a groan, I shuffle down into the cushions a bit, taking him with me. He slings an arm around my waist, and I don’t have to look down to know his eyes are mostly shut. I’m not sure I want to answer him, but if I feel safe with anyone, it’s with Easton.
He knows all my secrets, and the weight of my life has started to feel a little too heavy for me lately. Maybe sharing the burden will help.
“I’m just starting to wonder if this is really what I want,” I finally say.
He shifts, and I look down just as he looks up. I can almost see my reflection in his eyes. “What do you mean, this?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know. I used to feel like I could do this. Now, being here feels like I’m suffocating.”
“Like, here here? Like in town, or—”
“I mean, I don’t really know if this is the life I want.
Becoming a firefighter was an easy decision when I was helping my mom get back on her feet.
It was quick program and good money right away.
It felt like sacrificing my career as a chef was worth something.
Now, my mom’s got her apartment. Starr and Westin are probably going to get the hell out of town the moment they graduate.
Meadow is going to do who the fuck knows what, but she’s got a job and helps out at home. I feel like…”
He stays silent, but I can tell he wants to finish my sentence for me, so I nudge him just a bit because I’m not sure I want to say the words myself. He takes a breath, then offers, “They don’t need you?”