Chapter 19
“Sup, that’s the last of it,” Opp calls out from the side of the second engine rig. They look like those animal control trucks, with all the little doored compartments along both sides that hold all of our gear when we travel. If the fire we’re called to is close enough, we just truck it. Others, like this SoCal fire, we drive to the nearest airport and are loaded onto basically a cargo plane and shipped off to wherever we need to go.
I nod over to Opp in thanks from where I’m finishing unloading the first rig. He’s been with us a little under six years. He’d come in as a temp after Dixon broke his leg in the fire that killed my dad, and he’d fit in with the rest of the crew so well that he’d decided to stay. Big, burly bear of a guy, and I’ve never seen a man throw a fucking snag the way he does.
Curly, Gareth, and Dixon are all carrying the last of their packs into what makes up essentially our home base. It’s a large, glorified metal pole barn that sits just outside of Sky Ridge. The greenish-grayish paint is worn but it’s got enough space for our equipment, parking for the rigs, a decent set up for gym equipment that we utilize often to stay in shape for the job, a half janky billiard table with scuffed up green felt, a dart board, and a foosball table that’s on its last leg. Literally. It’s propped up by old phone books I’d found in the office after my dad passed.
My field office is located at the back and it’s got a kitchenette that the guys are always welcome to use. Along one wall is a couple of XL Twin bunks that are stacked three high for the crew members that don’t live here in Sky Ridge year-round and don’t want the hassle of finding living quarters. Along the other white cinderblock wall are rows of lockers where we keep our gear.
“Good work on this fire, guys,” I call out to everyone. “Now, go get a fucking shower and some sleep. You’re all rank as hell.”
Cal waves as he climbs into his vehicle and I tip my chin to him. King’s not far behind. We arrived at the airport just after six this morning. Another two hours before we pulled in here, and then the last hour has been unloading and cleaning gear before we all crash.
Most of the time, when we get back from a fire, we head over to Shifty’s as a group to celebrate, but it’s so damn early in the morning we’re all fucking wrecked. I can’t wait to eat, take a shower, and sleep.
But more than any of those things, I can’t wait to see Teddy.
When I pull into the driveway on my side of the yard, I frown. Her minivan isn’t in sight, and a small SUV is parked there instead. I climb out of the truck and stretch my tired, aching muscles, glancing around. Both halves of the lawn are in desperate need of a cut. Her mower has been moved out of the middle of her yard and closer to her patio, a small red gasoline can next to it.
An older gentleman steps out of the front door of Teddy’s duplex, Dalton behind him. Dalton waves excitedly when he sees me and races over as I grab my pack from the passenger seat.
“Xander!”
“Hey, champ, how are you?” I ask, grinning down at the kid. His brown eyes are crinkled at the corners as he smiles widely .
“I’m great! We got to have a sleepover with Gramma and Grampa and we got to stay up late watching movies and eating ice cream, and now Grampa and I are going to mow the lawn to surprise Mom, isn’t that great?”
His words come out fast and excited, and he’s fairly bouncing on the balls of his feet. I chuckle, then squeeze his shoulder before looking toward the man walking across the sadly neglected lawn toward us. He has kind brown eyes the same shade as Teddy’s kids’ and thick gray hair. I recognize him from the hospital after Teddy had Bea. Teddy’s father-in-law, Kent Hansen. I’ve seen Colleen here a handful of times, but this is the first time I’ve seen Kent since Bea was born.
“Were you out on a fire? Where was it? Was it bad? Is Uncle Cal okay?” Dalton continues, firing off questions quicker than I can answer them. I laugh again, turning my attention back to him.
“Did you have ice cream for breakfast, too?” I ask, only half joking. The kids on a sugar buzz or something.
“No, but Gramma let us have extra extra syrup on our waffles. I really like syrup, but Mom doesn’t let us have a lot of it.”
“You’re not great at keeping secrets, are you, Dalton?” the man scoffs as he stops in front of me. He extends a hand and I reach for it, shaking it firmly as the man pins me with those brown eyes. “Nice to see you again.”
I smile down at Dalton and wink, before turning my attention back to Kent. “Nice to see you again, Kent.” I nod, then gesture toward Teddy’s duplex then. “Is uh, is Teddy alright?”
“Oh, yeah, she’s fine. Colleen and I came over to spend the weekend with them and sent her out for a girl’s night last night.”
“Did she not come home?” I ask, trying my best to keep the concern in my voice contained. The last time she was drunk, I’d had to drive her home because she was too drunk to drive. The woman has the alcohol tolerance of a damn squirrel .
Having her next to me on the bench seat that night, barely a foot separating us, her scent filling the small cab of my truck for the duration of that drive… it had been akin to torture. She’d been happy that night, buzzed and giggly and her light, tinkling laughter had wound itself around the stone that has been my heart for decades. Thank God it was dark in the cab of my truck, because I’d barely been able to keep my eyes off of her.
Fingers fisted tightly around the wheel, I’d reminded myself over and over again that I was driving her home; home to her husband . She was married, dammit; happily, blissfully married.
And not to me.
“Oh no, we sent her to a hotel to get away for the night. She just called, she and her girlfriends are heading out for breakfast before she comes home,” he says, ruffling Dalton’s hair, yanking me out of the memory. “I figured I’d get this lawn whipped up before she gets back. One less thing for her to worry about.”
I’ve always liked this man, and I like him even more now. I breathe a little easier, knowing she wasn’t out trying to drive drunk, and had at least a few people looking out for her while I was gone. That tightness in my chest eases, though it’s replaced quickly with an emotion I’m not sure I want to put a name to. An emotion I’ve been shoving down for years.
Shifting the pack on my shoulder, I nod over to the lawn mower. “Let me put my stuff away, and I can do that for you. I know my lawn is a mess right now, too. I can just do them both at the same time, and you can spend more time with your grandkids.”
“No offense, son, but you look dead on your feet,” Kent mutters dryly and I can’t help the scoffing laugh that escapes me. I rub the back of my neck with one hand. I know as soon as I stop moving, I’m going to pass out hard, and my neck is sore as fuck. But I want to do this for Teddy.
“I really don’t mind,” I insist.
Kent nods then. “Alright, lawn’s all yours, son. ”
Dalton follows me as I walk into my duplex to set my pack down, and I make a quick walk through to open windows. The duplex is stuffy after being closed up for two weeks in the August heat. I change hastily out of my gear and into a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt, sliding my feet into a pair of worn sneakers. Dalton remains by the door, waiting, and then I squeeze his shoulder as we exit. “Ready, champ?”
He beams a smile up at me and nods. And we get to work.