Chapter 21
After the world's longest shower, I’m certain I fell into a coma for the next seven hours. I laid down in bed and woke up as the late afternoon sun was blazing through my bedroom window. I don’t think I ever moved once I’d fallen asleep. My neck was stiff before, but now every move is like an electric shock down my spine. I do my best to stretch it out, but it doesn’t do much to help. An IcyHot patch and a beer make me feel a little better, though.
I check my phone, noting several messages from King and Cal that make me smile. It sounds like Teddy, Violette, and Scottie hung out last night at a local hotel and got drunk on whisky and fucking hard seltzers—not my idea of a great combination, but to each their own—and they’re apparently both hungover today. Violette is scheduled to work at Shifty’s tonight according to King, and Scottie is on call. I almost feel bad for them, but I don’t. The light that had shone in Teddy’s pretty gray eyes this morning when she’d gotten home had made me strangely happy, too. She deserved to have that time for herself. And I’ll be honest, I’m glad she was with Vi and Scottie.
Cal asks if I’m coming out to Shifty’s with the crew later, but I decline. He sends me a GIF of Chandler Bing pantomiming using a whip with the caption ‘WHOOP-AH!’. I roll my eyes, and then another GIF comes through, this one of Bugs Bunny with the heart eyes. I send a text back of a middle finger emoji, then click my phone off.
Padding out into the kitchen, I flip through the pile of mail I’d tossed onto the table earlier, stopping at a small yellow manilla envelope with my brother’s handwriting across the front. I open the mailer and pull a second envelope out. It’s a simple, white, letter sized envelope with nothing but my name across it in my dad’s untidy scrawl.
Seeing that handwriting is like a fucking kick to the chest.
It takes all the breath out of my lungs and makes my sternum ache.
I sink into one of the chairs at the table and simply stare at it for a long time, holding it between my fingers, willing myself to work up the guts to open it. To read the last thing that my dad will ever leave me with.
I don’t know how long I sit and stare at that envelope, but I shake my head and heave a frustrated sigh before pushing to my feet. I toss the envelope onto the kitchen counter and turn away, gripping the edge of the counter in tense fingers.
I glance out the front window, but neither Teddy’s or her in-laws’ vehicles are in her side of the driveway. Shoving my feet into sneakers, I pull my ball cap on my head and grab my keys. It’s a quick trip down the road to the nearest market, and then I’m back fifteen minutes later with the fixings for a tossed salad, a mix of fresh vegetables, and a steak.
I crack open a beer while I work, washing the veggies and setting them to marinate before spearing them onto a shish-kabob skewer. Seasoning the steak, I set that aside and work on the salad next, then take the veggie skewers, the steak, and my beer out to the back patio, where I fire up the grill. It’s not often that I get to cook at home during the season, and normally I would be out with the guys tonight. Celebrating our win against that damn SoCal fire. But tonight, I’m just not feeling the crowd. Or the harassment from my crew about Teddy. None of them have let it go.
Busy bodies, the lot of ‘em.
My steak is about halfway done when I hear two vehicles pull into the driveway, and then the commotion of Teddy and her family arriving home. The sounds comfort me. Dalton’s excitable chatter, Penny’s infectious laugh, shit, even the sound of Bea’s occasional fussing doesn’t bother me. Teddy’s soothing voice as she speaks to her kids, her genuine laughter when they do something to make her smile. I admit, I enjoy the sounds of them living next door.
“Dalton, shower time please!” I hear Teddy’s voice through an open window somewhere. “But don’t take too long because Penny needs a bath, too.”
“Only because she practically swam in her ice cream.” Kent’s deep rumble reaches me and I can’t help but smile. Sounds like something the tiny terror would do.
“Oooh, what smells so good?” Colleen’s voice drifts out next. I hear the heavy glass slider door swish open. “Xander must be grilling out back. That smells divine. Doesn’t it Teddy? Why don’t you go say hello?”
“ Colleen! ”
Teddy’s horrified whisper-hiss makes me chuckle around a swallow of my beer.
“ What? ” Colleen asks, her tone anything but innocent. “It’s just saying hello, Teddy.”
I grin again, flipping the veggie skewers a quarter turn. The marinated mushrooms, bell peppers, onions, and summer squash do smell mouth-wateringly delicious. As does the steak. Fuck, I’m starving, and ready to eat real food instead of a gritty, tasteless MRE ration pack. My stomach growls impatiently. I’d been so exhausted after getting home this morning, mowing the lawn, and then my shower that I hadn’t even bothered to eat before falling asleep.
“ Why are you like this? ” Teddy grumbles miserably, and Colleen’s lilting laugh drifts out to me.
“Because that’s what momma’s do. We meddle.”
I take another long pull of my beer and grin. That’s exactly what Teddy had said earlier. I’m not sure if they know I’m out here, or that I can hear everything they’re saying. It’s not considered eavesdropping, right?
“This isn’t normal. He’s my brother’s boss, Colleen ,” Teddy whisper-hisses again, and then I can hear the screen slider being pushed open. “Ugh. You’re a menace .”
“Yes, yes, alright,” Colleen mutters, her voice slightly louder now. “I’ll get the kids showered and bathed. Go say hi. And take him this?—”
The clinking of glass bottles rattle, and then the swish of the sliding doors being shut once more. I hold my breath, remaining where I am at the grill. My back is facing the backyard, but I know the second she comes around the partition that separates my patio from hers. Like my entire body is queued to her presence.
“Umm, hey,” she says, her voice so timid and uncertain.
I turn my head toward her and wince at the pain that shoots up my neck and down my spine. She stops, alarm flashing across her face before she’s stepping over toward me. She sets a six pack of beer down on the ancient milk crate-turned-end table.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? ” she asks, her gray eyes flying over me, as if checking for injury. My chest tightens at that. It’s been a long time since anyone—other than my crew—has cared about my wellbeing. “ Xander ?—”
“I’m fine.” I turn fully toward her, smiling gently, then reach up and tap the lidocaine patch that’s sticking out of the back collar of my t-shirt. “Just a stiff neck, and I moved wrong.”
“Oh,” she whispers, taking a half step back. “I’m sorry. ”
I wave my hand. “Don’t apologize. I kinked it a few days ago sleeping on a bedroll at spike camp. It just needs a few days to loosen up.”
“Spike camp?” she asks, crossing her arms over herself. I look down at those crossed arms pointedly and she rolls her eyes with a smirk, but drops them to her sides. I turn back to the grill, flipping my steak one more time. It’s done, but now I don’t want to go inside and leave her.
I nod as I turn off the burners, then hunker down to make sure the propane tank is off, too. “When we’re out on fire calls, we set up basically like a campsite. We call them spike camps. It’s our home away from home.”
“You have to set up tents wherever you go?” she asks, stepping forward to peek at the steak and vegetables on the grill. She sniffs the air appreciatively.
I laugh then and shake my head. “Uhh, no not exactly. We kinda just sleep wherever we fall at night. We have sleeping bags.”
“And you just sleep outside on the ground?” Her eyes shoot up to mine, her blonde brows rising in surprise behind her clear rimmed glasses. Those freckles are on display again today.
“Yeah, we just sleep outside,” I answer, chuckling. Using the tongs, I pick up the steak and place it on a clean plate I’d brought out with me, then the veggie skewers. “Hasn’t Cal ever told you about his work? It’s not glamorous.”
“I guess I’ve never asked the right questions,” she laughs, shaking her head. “And I hate to admit that I probably have intentionally not asked too many questions. His job makes me anxious, and I feel like the less I know about specifics, the better I can handle it. My brain has this really great ability to imagine the worst possible scenario. When he and Scottie went missing up in the mountains last year, I was a mess. And then to lose Logan right after… ”
She stops abruptly, smiling almost sadly, like she’s trying not to let the thoughts take over.
“I can understand that,” I murmur gently. Her heart is just so big, she cares so deeply for everyone, and she’s been hurt so much. I wish I could take all the hurt away, but I can’t.
I can only make it worse.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat and pushing the thoughts aside, I turn to her, then gesture toward the open slider door that leads into my side of the duplex, because I’m nothing if not a glutton for punishment. “Would you like to come in? Are you hungry?”
“Oh, no, thank you. We just went out to dinner with Colleen and Kent and then took the kids out for ice cream. It smells delicious, though.” She picks up the six pack and extends it toward me. “I wanted to thank you for mowing the lawn. You didn’t have to do that. But I appreciate it, like, a lot. Bea has been teething and neither one of us are sleeping all that great and the lawn was just one thing I didn’t have the energy to do?—”
Nodding down to the six pack in her hand, I cut off her anxious rambling as I murmur, “I’ll only accept that if you agree to have one with me.”
Her words stop, but those gray eyes narrow on me, her lips twitching with a grin. “That’s coercion,” she grumbles.
“Guilty.” I grin down at her, then gesture for her to go in ahead of me. “Besides,” I whisper teasingly, “we can’t let Colleen’s meddling go to waste.”
Teddy groans, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you heard that?!”
I chuckle. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? This is probably more food than I can eat.”
It’s not, but I’ll gladly share if she wants some. I’d love the chance to cook for her.
“No, thank you for the offer. It smells amazing, but honestly I’m so full from dinner,” she laughs, following me into the kitchen that mirrors hers, though mine is depressingly empty compared to hers. She plucks two beers out of the flimsy cardboard pack and twists the tops off of them before handing me one. “Thank you for the beer. Though admittedly, I probably don’t need it. I’m still not entirely recovered from last night.”
“Little hair of the dog,” I laugh, nodding as I plate up my food and pull the premade toss salad out of the fridge. She nods around a drink of her beer, and I can’t help but stare at the way her bottom lip pillows the ridge of the beer bottle as she tips it up.
And now I’m half hard again. This damn woman has no fucking idea how enticing she is.
The white shirt she has on is falling off one shoulder still, leaving that shoulder bare halfway down her arm. One strap of her bra is showing where it crosses her shoulder to her back. I want to press my lips to that spot where her neck and shoulder meet, to sink my teeth into it, mark her up, then soothe it with my tongue and do it again.
Fuck. Now I am hard.
She turns to look around the living room and I take the chance to adjust myself behind the fly of my jeans. “You don’t stay here very much, do you?”
“Not during the fire season,” I admit, and she nods in understanding. Notching my chin toward the tiny table in the dining room, we sit down across from each other. I feel like an ass eating in front of her. My mom drummed manners into me, and though I’m more of a barbarian than most—living out of spike camps with half feral beasts for men will do that—I am still a gentleman. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you? I can fix you a plate?—”
She laughs, leaning her elbows on the table and wrapping both hands around the base of the bottle. My eyes track the movement, and I hate to admit that I fully imagine what those fingers would look like wrapped around my cock just like that .
“No, seriously, Xander. I’m so full. I ate my weight in pasta and breadsticks at dinner,” she laughs, then wrinkles her nose, something I’m learning is a nervous habit for her, as if she’s embarrassed again. She gestures to my salad. “I should have stuck with a salad, but the breadsticks smelled so good.”
This woman, I swear to fucking God. I’m going to change the way she sees herself.
“After a night of drinking, I’m sure you needed it to offset that hangover,” I tease instead.
She groans, laughing, as she leans back in the chair and brings the bottle to her lips for another drink. “Don’t remind me. Scottie brought a bottle of whisky. I couldn’t even tell you the last time I did shots of whisky. College, maybe? Definitely before I had Dalton.”
She bites the inside of her cheek and stares at the bottle in her hands almost guiltily. I wonder if she’s thinking about the night I drove her home, though I doubt it. I replay that night in my head sometimes, like some kind of masochist.
“I really shouldn’t be drinking this. I’m going to have to pump and dump until tomorrow before I can feed Bea again,” she murmurs, tilting her lips in a wry smile.
It's totally involuntary, the way my eyes drop to the top swell of her breasts beneath the white shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, raising my eyes to hers. My voice is rougher than intended, and I clear my throat. Those damn gray eyes are like my own personal kryptonite.
She waves one hand, shrugging. The shirt hanging off one shoulder slips just a little further down her arm, revealing a hint of the side curve of her bra-clad breast. My fingers tighten around my own beer as I lift it to my lips.
“Gah, don’t be. I wasn’t comfortable feeding her yet anyway, and I have enough milk stored in the freezer to get through the apocalypse if needed.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. I’m sure you three could get into some trouble on your own.” She smiles coyly behind the beer bottle at her lips and that mischievous grin does me in completely. I like having her in my space. She brightens it, makes it feel warmer, almost. I need to do something to make it more welcoming in here. I want her here more often. “I’ve known Violette since she was a kid. Her twin brother was on my crew.”
“That’s right. I forget sometimes how integrated you all are as a unit,” she murmurs, that smile fading. “She doesn’t talk about that much, but I know Jacob and Rowan were best friends.”
I nod. “We lost Jacob the same year we lost my dad,” I explain around a bite of the grilled vegetables.
“Your dad was a hotshot, too, right?” she asks quietly. Her fingernails pick at the label on the beer.
“Sure was. He was the superintendent before myself. We worked together for almost fifteen years before we lost him.” The pain and guilt that tears through me is as acute as it was six years ago. They say grief never truly fades; it just hits less often. Fuck, when it hits though, its like a sucker punch to the center of the chest.
“I remember Cal talking about that. I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her dark blonde brows pulling low over her silver-gray eyes.
I nod, dropping my eyes to the food on my plate. I push the steak around with the tines of my fork. “He shouldn’t have even been in that fire.”
“I’m sorry, Xander. We don’t have to talk about it. I know I don’t like talking about the night Logan—" She cuts off her words abruptly, straightening her shoulders, then slides the beer away from her. It’s only half empty. She heaves a breath in and smiles over at me, though I know it’s forced. Her lower lip wobbles just the slightest, like she’s trying her best to hold it together. Fuck, I just want to hold her. “There’s some things in life we never really get over, huh?”
A painfully tight knot lodges itself in my chest. I don’t know if it’s grief or guilt or jealousy or a strange combination of all three. I feel like a dick all over again. The woman is still grieving over her dead husband, she’s got her fucking hands full with three kids, and I’m sitting here ogling her with a chubby in my pants.
What would it be like to have the love of a woman like Teddy? That kind of devotion that follows even after a tragedy like what she’s faced?
She rises from her seat and I push to stand, but she rushes to say, “No, don’t get up. Finish your dinner, Xander. Thank you for the beer.” I sink back into my chair and watch as she flees. But then she stops at the slider door and looks back at me, those gray eyes crinkling at the corners slightly. “I’m really glad you’re back safe.”
Then she’s gone, slipping out of the back patio door and sliding it shut behind her. And I’m left with this ache in my chest and an empty, barely lived in house that just for a few minutes had seemed not quite so lonely.