Chapter 13
Ford
The steaming water falls over my head in the shower, washing away the sweat and relaxing the tight muscles in my shoulders.
Today was one of those damn days. It started out pretty tame, with a call from the outskirts of Harmony Hills alerting us that a tree had fallen in the middle of the road. No casualties or property damage.
As we were having lunch, the tones went off again. This time, to assist in a car crash. The driver had tried to dodge a raccoon and crashed into the guardrail as a result.
With his very pregnant wife in the passenger seat.
Neither of them sustained serious injuries, and I made sure to check with the hospital later—both her and the baby were safe—but hours after, I still can’t shake off the uneasy feeling.
Without a doubt, the worst part about being a firefighter is dealing with emergencies where children and babies are involved.
My desire to help and protect becomes a hundred times higher, but so do the stakes.
None of us enjoy those situations, no matter how many long hours we’ve trained to deal with them.
Inevitably, my thoughts go to Lexi. If something happened to her…. I don’t even want to entertain that possibility. There’s no motherfucker I wouldn’t kill to keep my niece safe.
And yet you don’t want to have a baby with me. I’m telling you, Ford, one of these days you will regret it. Just wait and see.
My ex-wife’s words slip into my mind as the hot water runs along my skin. They don’t hurt like they used to, but the sting lingers. The pain isn’t about her—it’s anger at myself for refusing to see the red flags waving in front of my damn face.
When we started dating, I was upfront about what I wanted in a relationship. Marriage, yes. Kids, no.
I’m not one of those people who thinks children are annoying—kids are awesome; Lexi is proof of that—but I have never had any desire to become a father. I can’t explain why, but it doesn’t matter; not wanting kids is reason enough not to have them.
I, for one, think it’s unfair to bring a child into this world if both parties aren’t a hundred percent sure of that decision, so I was relieved when Jocelyn told me she felt the same way.
That she had never pictured herself pregnant, or being a mother in any way, and was glad to find a man who shared her views.
We left the conversation at that, happy to be on the same page.
In our first month as newlyweds, though, she brought it up again.
“Wouldn’t you like a mini Ford?” she asked, the hope in her voice killing me.
“We’ve talked about this. We agreed not to have children. Have you changed your mind? Because I haven’t, so if that’s what you want….”
“We’re not getting a divorce, Ford. We’ve just gotten married. What would my parents say?”
“It doesn’t matter what anyone says,” I argued. “I don’t want to have children. I don’t want to be a dad. If you want to be a mom, I won’t take that wish away from you. I don’t want to get a divorce, but if this is a deal-breaker for you….”
“Don’t be stupid. Of course it’s not a dealbreaker. It’s just that I’m about to get my period, and my hormones are all over the place. I don’t actually want kids.”
A different version of that same argument would pop up once in a while, and she would always say the same thing—that one of her friends was pregnant and that’s why she was thinking about it, that she had seen a cute baby at the store and it had prompted her to bring it up, hormones again…
but that she didn’t want kids. Not really.
But the thing about believing someone’s words is that they’re just that—empty promises they don’t have to keep.
And after I found her in bed with her ex-husband months later, she brought it up again.
“I wouldn’t have cheated if you’d given me what I wanted from a proper husband,” she yelled after I placed the divorce papers in front of her. “You didn’t want to give me a baby. What kind of heartless man doesn’t want a family? What was I supposed to do? Live my life on your terms?”
I didn’t bother with a reply, and I don’t want to waste any more of my time reliving those moments now.
My underwear, uniform T-shirt, and pants are laid out in the order I’ll put them on next to the shower in case an emergency happens while I’m in the shower, so I’m quick to get dressed and out of the bathroom.
Nash always says how stressful it would be for him to do things at the station, even go to the bathroom, not knowing when an emergency will come up. And he always gets the same answer—you get used to living on the edge, to the point where it becomes routine. This is the way I function now.
I pass Ian and two other guys in the workout room as I head to double-check the engines.
It’s not that I don’t trust my team with maintenance, but my father once told me that one of his worst days on the job was when their engine broke down in the middle of the road during an emergency call.
That stuck with me from a young age, and now I compulsively make sure it doesn’t happen to us.
The garage bay doors are down, but I can see outside from the windows.
Sitting outside Harmony Hills, the fire station isn’t located in an area I would call crowded.
There’s a hardware store next door and nothing in front of us.
Paired with the fact that it’s getting dark, the lone figure outside catches my eye.
It’s a boy with a bicycle. He’s not riding it, but pushing it along. And despite the dark, the lights at the front of the station give me a clear view of who it is.
“Joe,” I call out when I open the garage door. He turns to me, surprise in his eyes. “You okay, buddy?”
It’s a weekday. Why isn’t he at home? Why is he riding his bike at this hour?
Instead of answering or giving me a thumbs-up, he heads toward the bay.
“Everything all right?” I ask again when he gets closer.
“Yeah, all good,” he replies, but his usual spark is gone from both his voice and his face.
Much like Ivy, he can’t hide it when he’s upset, so I persist. “Is there anything wrong with your bike?”
“No. I just didn’t feel like riding it anymore.”
We stay silent, but it’s not uncomfortable.
I have little to no experience dealing with teenagers, but if I’ve learned something from doing the occasional fire drill at local high schools, it’s that they are stubborn.
It doesn’t matter how much they’re pushed; unless they want to, they won’t talk. So that’s what I do—I don’t push him.
And it works.
“I was angry and needed to cool down,” he eventually explains.
“Want to talk about it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Did something happen at school?”
“No, but it has to do with that. Kind of.”
“Is it about your grades?” I know how important they are for him. And Ivy.
But he shakes his head. “It’s not that.”
“All right.”
I can tell he’s struggling to let the words out. Not because of me, necessarily, but because I’ve come to learn that’s how he is. He reminds me of Rhys sometimes.
“Our aunt came by today,” he finally says, his eyes on the ground as his foot fiddles with one of the pedals. “But we don’t like her. She talks shit sometimes and thinks she’s better than us because she has money.”
My hackles rise. “Did she say anything to your sister?”
Something I can’t pinpoint passes in his eyes when he glances up at me.
“Yeah, but it’s not that. I mean, yeah, she said some mean things to her, but that’s not why I’m angry.
Ivy doesn’t let her words bother her. It’s just…
. Our aunt offered to pay for my flight school.
The whole thing. But I’d have to move with her to Boston and go to a private high school as my part of the deal. ”
A surge of protectiveness rises inside me. Given how close Joe and Ivy are, and the two jobs she’s putting herself through to pay for his education, their aunt’s offer must have felt like a punch to the gut.
“Did Ivy tell you to go with your aunt?” I ask him, trying to focus on our conversation—because I like Joe, and I want to help him—and not on how badly I want to check if Ivy’s okay.
“She said it would be okay if I did.”
“And you’re upset about that,” I guess out loud, understanding hitting me.
“I’m not mad at my sister, but….” He takes a deep breath, and for a moment, he looks older than sixteen. As if the weight of the entire world is pressing down on his shoulders. “But maybe she wants me to go with Aunt Sherry so she can, you know, breathe. Flight school is very expensive.”
“I don’t think Ivy feels that way about you,” I tell him honestly. “Also, it doesn’t make sense that she’d want you to go live with a relative neither of you like that much, does it?”
“I just don’t know what to do.”
“Do you want to move to Boston?”
He hesitates, but ends up shaking his head. “No, but my aunt is right—Ivy can’t pay for flight school even if she gets another job. It’s too expensive. Jobs around here don’t pay that well. Did you know tuition is, like, a hundred thousand dollars?”
Holy fucking shit.
“Your sister is saving up,” I remind him, something I’m sure he’s already aware of. “Aren’t there grants you can apply for?”
He ignores my question. “If you were me, what would you do? Be honest.”
“I don’t know, buddy. My parents put me through fire school, but it wasn’t nearly as expensive as a pilot career. I guess I would try to save up, get a job, or something like that. But your sister wants you to focus on school, which isn’t a bad thing.”
He sighs. “I know.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. I’m six foot three, but I swear Joe has gotten taller since the end of summer. He must be, what, five foot ten now?
“I’m here if you need to talk about anything, okay? You’re never a bother,” I reassure him. “Take some time to think about all of this. It’s okay to be upset and confused, but don’t make permanent decisions on temporary feelings.”
His nod is short, but not unsure. “That makes sense. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing, kid. Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Careful getting home, all right? Don’t ride on the road. Actually, text me when you get home. Here, I’ll put my number in your phone.”
Harmony Hills is a safe town, but accidents still happen—I would know.
After Joe leaves, I spend the next few minutes watching my phone and only relax when he texts me that he got home safely.
Then I text Nash, asking him to tell Ivy that Joe got home okay.
It’s only been a couple of days since I last saw her, but it feels like a lifetime. I refuse to think about why that is.