Chapter 5
Thorne Grace was too simple a word to describe Lissa as she climbed the walls at the gym. She made it look easy and fun. How had I never thought of indoor rock climbing?
Her sculpted arms bore her weight with ease as she traversed the wall, climbing higher and maneuvering around awkward obstacles. She only looked down at me once and hasn’t glanced back again.
It reminded me of the first time we met nearly two years ago.
I’d come to the firehouse to take a tour a few days before my start date.
The last room the captain showed me was the gym.
Two people did pull-ups with their backs to the door, both counting aloud and occasionally looking at each other.
One was a tall man who looked like he belonged in one of those firefighter calendars, and maybe he was.
The other was a woman who was almost as tall as the man.
She wore a tank top and had long light brown hair pulled high in a ponytail.
Her arms were well-defined, her shoulders strong and toned.
I bet her back looked the same. She kept pace with the man, and she had all my attention.
Before one of them could slow down, the captain called it off.
“I don’t have all day to wait for all you to finish this shit. Meet the new guy.”
Both slowly lowered themselves and dropped off the bar.
“Come on, Captain. You didn’t have to stop us. I was planning to let her win.”
The man winked at the woman, and she smacked his arm with the back of her hand.
“Glad you two haven’t gone home yet. This is Hawthorne Graves. He’s been a firefighter for—” the captain paused and looked at me.
“Four years,” I said.
“Four years.” He nodded at me. “This here is Saint Sterling and Lissa.”
We all nodded our hellos, but my attention stayed on Lissa.
She was taller than me with hazel eyes, sand-colored skin, a tan on her forearms, and a half smile.
Absolutely gorgeous and strong enough to pick me up with minimal effort.
Moving to Chicago was a great idea. I’d have to thank my buddy Joe for convincing me to move here.
“Lissa, Hawthorne is your new partner on the pumper. He starts in two days.”
She stepped forward and offered her hand. I shook it with a smile. Partners.
“Nice to meetcha,” she said with a Chicago accent. “Name’s Melissa, but as you can tell everyone calls me Lissa. You work on an engine before?”
“I did back in Portland.”
“Portland? Okay.” She nodded her head with a straight face. Then reached behind her and grabbed a towel off a bench. “Well, I’ll see you next shift. Saint,” she said while pointing at Saint Sterling, “rematch later.”
“Sure thing,” he called back.
Then she walked out without another word.
“She’ll warm up,” Saint Sterling said. “As long as you do the job right.”
Watching her now climb the rock wall, she still had the same strong arms and stunning back. Today she wore shorts, which I’d never seen her wear before. Her legs looked strong and dangerous. I said a quick prayer that she’d never see fit to kick me.
Lissa continued to move up the wall. Her friend Chelsea, who Lissa introduced me to when we arrived, was connected to Lissa via a rope that she fed slack to Lissa as she climbed.
Chelsea was average height and thin with chestnut-colored skin.
She wore a bandana wrapped around her hair line, and her naturally curly hair was pulled into a bun.
Chelsea helped Lissa get all her gear on and started a timer when both feet touched the wall. They explained that Chelsea acted at Lissa’s belayer and would manage the rope and lower Lissa at the end of the climb. The whole system interested me, and I couldn’t wait to try it. Stupid ankle.
Lissa made it to the top and gave a signal to be lowered. She slowly came down with a huge smile on her face. This was her fifth and last climb of the day. When her feet landed on the ground, she untied her rope and gave Chelsea a huge hug.
“Great timing today,” Chelsea said.
“Hell yeah,” Lissa said. They both broke out into a dance. Lissa stopped and took off her harness. “I’m going to cool down and shower. Be back in fifteen.”
She nodded at me while she walked away. Chelsea pulled down the rope and rolled it up before taking off her own harness and putting everything away.
“She’s impressive, right?” Chelsea asked.
“Sure is.”
She sat down next to me and motioned to my inclined foot. “How’s the ankle?”
“It’s okay. It’s hard to stay still, but I’m doing my best.”
“I can tell, your other leg won’t stop moving.”
I looked down to see my good leg bouncing as I sat there. “Yeah. I’m more of a stander than a sitter. It’s an adjustment.”
Chelsea took out her phone and started typing in numbers.
“Why were you timing her?” The realization hit me as soon as I asked the question. “Is she training for something? Wait, are there climbing competitions?”
“You went from zero to sixty real fast.” She laughed. “Yes. Lissa is training for an indoor rock climbing competition. This gym is the best to train at because they change one of the sections each week, with a full new set up every six to eight weeks.”
My eyes widened as I looked around the gym.
The walls were made of large square and rectangular panels.
Some panels were flat on the front, while others had large rock-like obstacles attached.
All the rocks and panels had hand and foot grips.
Upon closer inspection, everything on the wall panels were screwed in.
“So, they move the walls around?” I asked.
“Something like that. And move around the holds.”
“And you climb, too?”
She laughed. “Sometimes, but not like Lissa. I do it for fun. She does it for the fun of the competition.”
“It’s interesting to see her be competitive. I’ve only seen it a few times.”
“Lissa loves to compete, but not when she works. She says that as a firefighter, competing on the job prevents the team from working together and working together is how you put out fires.”
I sat and thought of all the times in the last few years I’ve tried to engage Lissa in what I considered friendly competition. I also loved to compete. I liked the game of it all and Lissa never responded positively. Damn. No wonder I annoyed her so much.
By the time Lissa came back, Chelsea had already washed up, and we were ready to go. I pulled myself up to my feet and swung myself toward the exit.
“Brunch?” Lissa asked.
Chelsea looked back at me and then at Lissa. “You sure?”
Lissa shrugged. “Yeah. Everyone else said it was fine.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” Chelsea gave me a side-eye. “I’ll see youse guys there.”
“Who’s all going?” I asked.
“You’ll meet’em when you get there,” Chelsea said.
Lissa I led Thorne through the bistro. The place had walls of exposed brick, old wooden tables, a seventy-year-old Irish owner who greeted you at the door, and the best mimosas in town.
We made our way to a table with my brunch friends, or rather, my found family.
Chelsea, my best friend since middle school; Monica, my cousin and one of two family members who supported me when I became a firefighter; and Jeff, who was once an EMT I worked with but has since switched jobs.
I had no idea why I was bringing Thorne.
Living with him should have made me crazy by now.
We sat at the table and introduced everyone. My friends kept raising their eyebrows at me while they peppered Thorne with questions.
“So, you’re Thorne the partner,” Jeff said. “How do you deal with a partner that doesn’t talk while working?”
I rolled my eyes. I talk.
“She talks. Mostly telling me to stop playing games and grab the hose, but she talks.” He grinned at me, but I looked away. He wasn’t wrong.
“Where did you grow up?” Monica asked.
“Portland, Oregan.”
“You miss it?” Monica again.
“Only in the winter. The wind chill here is unbelievable and unnecessarily cold.” He laughed. “I thought my cold weather clothes were good enough, but I had to go buy more layers.”
I remembered his first winter here. He’d walk into the firehouse shivering and asking how we survived the wind right before he’d collapse on the floor and pretend to thaw.
Thorne charmed my friends much like he charmed everyone, with his smile and positive energy. And it didn’t bother me like I thought it would. Maybe it was the one mimosa I allowed myself to have that relaxed me. If I weren’t driving, I’d have had more.
I looked over at Jeff as he swayed a tad. I counted his empty cups, four. He’d had four mimosas. I started to panic a bit. Tipsy Jeff had minimal filter.
Jeff leaned against the table. “Thorne, what are you?”
“Jeff!” I scolded.
“That’s not right,” Jeff said. “You’re human. What’s your background? Does everyone in Portland look like you? Dark tanned skin, blue eyes, wide nose—”
Monica hit Jeff upside the head. “Who asks those questions?”
Thorne laughed. “I’m from everywhere.” Then he leaned toward me and smiled. I counted his drinks. Six. Damnit.
“Like space everywhere?” Jeff asked.
I groaned. “I’m so sorry, we should go.” I tried to push against Thorne for him to slide out of the booth.
“I’ll explain.” Thorne held up two fingers on his right hand. “My mom is Mexican and White.” Then he held up three fingers on his left hand. “My dad is Korean, Portuguese, and Black.” He pushed his hands together. “I’m a little bit of everything.”
I studied his face. “You’re the damn meltin’ pot.”
“I am.” He grabbed my hand. “I should show you pictures of my brother and sisters. We all look different.”
His eyes looked glassy. “Are you still taking any pain meds?” I asked.
“Just aceto-meto-phelm.”
“Acetaminophen,” I corrected.
“That.” He nodded. “But my leg feels amazing right now.”
“I bet it does,” Chelsea said. “You’ve had more to drink than the rest of us.”
“Jesus, I need to take you home. Someone help me get him to my car.” I pull cash out of my bag and put it on the table.
“Oh, you wanna take him home?” Jeff asked wiggling his eyebrows at me. “In your car.”
“That’s not the euphemism you think it is.” I stood Thorne up and got him steady on his crutches.
“Sure it is. Car, plus home, plus riding. It all goes together.”
“Euphemism is a fun word to say.” Thorne crutched his way toward the exit with minimal trouble as I ignored Jeff and walked behind Thorne to catch him if he fell.
“Have brunch with us again, Thorne,” Monica said with a wave.
I got Thorne through the door and yelled back, “No mimosas next time.”
By the time we got back to my apartment, Thorne was more tipsy than drunk. He made his way to the bed and laid down with a stupid smile on his face. I leaned in the doorway and watched as he stretched his entire body out. He cried out in pain and stared down at his foot.
“Stupid ankle,” he murmured. His eyes flickered to mine. “Hey pretty lady.” His smile turned soft and sultry, eyes half closed yet focused on me. “Why don’t you come over here for a ride?”
I stared until he snorted and laughed, and I followed suit.
“Does that line ever work?”
“Only when it makes them laugh,” he said and put his arms behind his head. “I wouldn’t even try on someone like you. I know what women like you think about guys like me.” He closed his eyes and relaxed into the bed.
I walked closer. “What do you mean? Women like me and guys like you?”
One eye peeked open, then closed. “Tall women don’t go for short men. Hell, there are a number of short women who don’t go for short men. Like there’s something wrong with me if I can’t reach the top shelf.”
“I never knew you were insecure about your height.”
“Hum. I’m not, but I also know that some people don’t find me attractive for something I can’t change.”
“I’ve dated a few shorter men.” I sat on the end of the bed. “They end up being more insecure about it in the end. One broke up with me because I was still taller when he put lifts in his shoes.”
Thorne chuckled. “That’s crazy.”
I watched his breathing slow. It reminded me of the mornings when I woke up cuddled up next to him.
When I first noticed, I backed away, careful not to wake him.
I thought it was a one-off. I didn’t particularly care to cuddle.
But it kept happening. It felt nice to wake up next to someone, even if it was Thorne. At least he was cute.
Right when I thought he’d gone to sleep, he asked, “What do you like about dating short men?”
I smiled and gave him my go-to answer for this question. I might have dated more than a few short men. “I like that I can throw them around in the bedroom.”
His eyes popped open, and his eyebrows hit his hairline. “Sure you don’t want to go for a ride?”
I slapped his thigh above the boot.
“Ouch. My ankle.” He closed his eyes and grinned. “Want to know what I like about tall women?”
“What?”
“I like that when they wear heels, I can walk up to them and motorboat without bending over.”
“You’re the worst,” I laughed. “Rest up you drunkard. You owe me for those six mimosas.”
“Send me the bill,” he said. I watched him yawn before I left the room.