CHAPTER ELEVEN
One of the biggest benefits of being best friends with your ex is knowing what they’re feeling.
Malcolm would wager his collection of stargazing manuals that Jessie was jealous of Maxwell.
This little development made him irrationally happy.
Almost as happy as seeing Jessie all dolled up for pizza with the guys.
“When do the doctors think you’ll be back for light duty?” Maxwell asked, helping Jessie serve up the pizza. She’d brought her famous double chocolate brownies, and Malcolm wanted to skip straight to dessert.
Javi popped the tops on the beers and handed them out.
Unfortunately, Nurse Jessie stopped him from taking one.
“Oh no, not on your medications.” She handed the beer back to Javi, who gleefully double-fisted his beverages.
Leaning in so only he could hear, Jessie whispered, “Be happy I didn’t pull out one of those juice boxes.
” She slid a glass of sweet tea in front of him, a much better substitute.
“Sorry, Smithy.” He didn’t look sorry as he pulled from the first bottle. Lucky bastard.
At least the company was lifting his spirits. It was also the perfect distraction from thinking about Jessie and that kiss from last night. When he’d gone in for a peck on the cheek, he failed to fathom the magnetic pull to move his lips a few inches to the left.
“Not sure yet, I have an appointment at the end of the week to check on everything. The visiting nurse today was pleased with the progress on my wounds, so that’s good. Considering I’m fairly mobile and not in a lot of pain, I hope next week.” He held up his hand with the fingers crossed.
Maxwell smiled before taking a bite of her pizza. “Awesome. I need a break from my temporary partner.” She tipped her head toward Javi, who gasped.
“Maxwell, I’m hurt. You don’t like riding around with me? I got us to that scene this morning in record time.”
“Record time?” She was incredulous, eyes bugging out of her head. “I’m surprised you passed the station’s driver’s exam. You nearly took out that mailbox on the corner of Carter and Peach Street.” Swallowing a swig of beer, she added, “And I’ve never gotten car sick before teaming up with you.”
Javi scoffed, folding his pizza in half before taking a massive bite. Through a mouthful of pepperoni, he said, “We were fine! I didn’t realize they turned that yield into a Stop sign.”
Trevor muttered under his breath, “It’s always been a Stop sign.” Javi didn’t seem to notice, or care.
“Anyway,” Javi said, drinking from his second beer, “when you get back, maybe you can help me with planning this year’s fire station fundraiser? I’m officially in charge of the committee.” Javi puffed out his chest with the announcement.
Jessie asked, “What was last year’s?” Her attention was divided between catching a trail of cheese from her pizza slice and side-eyeing Maxwell. Malcolm could barely contain his smirk.
Maxwell covered her face and groaned. “A total disaster,” she whined.
“Try not to remember it, Maxwell,” Javi soothed, rolling his eyes behind her back.
Sitting up, Maxwell scoffed. “Yeah right, Ortiz.”
Jessie nibbled thoughtfully on the crust of her first slice of pizza. Her eyes darted between everyone, yet she was clearly focused on Maxwell. “What am I missing?”
“Being the rookie,” Maxwell started, shaking herself back to the present, “they put me in charge. I planned a calendar.”
Trevor choked on his beer, spluttering into his elbow as he caught his breath. “Ah, geez, here we go.” He chuckled.
“Calendars are fun. What was wrong with it?” Jessie asked, slowly warming up to the other woman. Turning her attention back to Malcolm, Jessie topped off his glass of sweet tea without missing a beat in the conversation.
Malcolm chuckled, not wanting to upset his partner but unable to hold back his mirth. “They can be, but this one was a cat calendar.”
Jessie raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
“And what, pray tell, is a cat calendar?” She wrinkled her nose in confusion, a gesture that never ceased to melt Malcolm’s heart.
JJ was always cute to him, but when she scrunched up her adorable face, her button nose popping, he was a goner.
“Wasn’t it cute pictures of fluffy cats? ”
“No,” Maxwell replied on a sigh. “It was pictures of cats we saved from trees over the last year, and unfortunately we didn’t hire a professional photographer.” She held up a hand. “That was on me.”
Darting her gaze around the room, Jessie clocked everyone’s sheepish expressions. “Well, how bad was it?”
Malcolm pointed with his pizza crust toward the kitchen. “Check the junk drawer. I think I still have mine.”
Jessie hopped to her feet, nearly toppling his walker in her haste to see it.
She returned a moment later, grimacing as she paged through the calendar.
“Oh,” she exhaled, stopping at a particularly sad cat in April.
This one had gotten stuck during a rainstorm, its fur matted and its eyes wild.
It was less “fluffy kitten” and more “drenched nightmare fuel.” “I think it gets an A for effort.”
Maxwell shrugged, wiping her hands on her napkin and collecting everyone’s empty plates.
“Well, I have officially taken myself off the planning committee. Now it’s Ortiz and Smithy’s problem.
” Jessie stood to help, but Maxwell politely declined.
“Oh for heaven’s sake. You’re the one taking care of our guy here, putting a few plates in the dishwasher is the least I can do.
” As soon as she said it, her cell phone buzzed from her jeans pocket.
“Shoot,” she muttered, placing the dishes on the counter and frowning.
“I gotta jet, Juniper and Jack are giving their daddy the runaround for bath time.” She hurriedly put the plates away and gave Malcolm a fist bump.
“Keep on recovering, Smithy. We need you back at the big house,” lowering her voice, she added, “before I puke all over the truck.”
He saluted and waved as she headed toward the door. “Take it easy, Maxwell.”
“A mother’s work is never done.” She waved at Jessie and the others as she passed. “It was great meeting you, Jessie. I hope we can see each other again soon. It’s nice to have a girl around this motley crew.” Maxwell waved again, her smile infectious. “Oh, and report back on those brownies!”
Malcolm relaxed a little more when he saw Jessie return the gesture, her smile genuine. That’s his girl.
Now it was the four of them, the pizza boxes empty and the beer supply dwindling.
Javi leaned back in his chair, peeling the label off his empty bottle.
“So I was thinking we could do another calendar, but maybe something a little, you know, sexy.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Trevor tossed his balled-up napkin at his head.
“Wow, Ortiz. I think you went a whole five minutes without talking about sex. That might be a new record. I’ll need to call the folks at Guinness to confirm.”
“Haha, Trev. Just because I’m a ladies’ man doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.” Javi frowned, theatrically throwing his head back in frustration.
“We know you have feelings, Ortiz.” Malcolm came to his buddy’s rescue. Javi might play the field, but he was a good friend and a hell of a fireman, even though his driving skills took years off Malcolm’s—and apparently Maxwell’s—life.
Javi splayed a hand over his chest. “Thanks, Smithy. I miss your compassion around the station. I’ll talk to our new captain about sensitivity training.” Trevor muttered something under his breath, but let Javi get away with the dig.
“So what’s your calendar idea, Javi?” Jessie asked, adjusting the cushion behind Malcolm’s back. He hadn’t even realized how awkward he was sitting, but trust Jessie to pay attention.
Javi stuck his hands out and said, “Picture this”—he paused for effect, hands framing his face—“a sexy fireman calendar.”
The room was silent, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “A sexy fireman calendar.”
Trevor snorted. “We heard you the first time. We were expecting something different coming from you.”
Jessie was incredulous. “Different? I would expect nothing else from Javi.” She leaned forward and playfully pushed his shoulder. Javi pretended to fall off his seat, legs kicking in the air.
“What exactly are you suggesting? Hoses placed in suggestive ways?” Malcolm could barely hold back his smile.
Javi looked disappointed; his smile vanished. “No, man. Something tasteful, but sexily so.”
“Sexily so?” Both Trevor and Jessie asked, unable to stop their laughter.
Javi pushed to his feet and groaned. “This is why Smithy needs to come back to work. He’ll be able to help me without all the judgment.”
“Suddenly I’m not too eager to return to duty,” Malcolm said, unable to hold back his own amusement.
The foursome shared Maxwell’s brownies and talked about everything and nothing. This was usually how Malcolm spent his time off the clock, surrounded by friends and food, but it was so much better with Jessie.
Back when Malcolm was a kid, he’d gotten a horrible case of the flu that took away his appetite for over a month.
His tastebuds had been soured, and even his favorite foods tasted like ash.
He remembered the first day when he woke up and tasted his orange juice; it was like watching the sun rise for the first time.
Malcolm begged his mother to take him to a farmer’s market, where he ate strawberries that were bites of summertime, the sweet tang exploding on his tongue.
Tonight felt like that, strawberries savored after going so long without flavor. Jessie’s delight brightened the room, her digs at Trevor and Javier pulling out belly laughs that stretched unused muscles. His girl belonged here, plain and simple.