CHAPTER THIRTEEN
T revor didn’t even bother with the radio for the brief drive back to his place. His mind raced with thoughts of Whitney; his lips still burned from her kiss. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met, and he was falling into the clichés of new love. The color of one of the cars zipping past him reminded him of the color of her dress. A couple walking their dog reminded him of their walk with Gus. Hell, even stopping at a red light and seeing an empty park bench reminded him of their moment by the creek.
Nothing brought him down, or so he thought ...
As he crested the hill for the turnoff to his neighborhood, he spied a familiar car across the intersection. In the newly installed streetlights, he clearly saw the two people in the front seat. One was his boss, Chief Warren, and the other was his momma.
The chief was behind the wheel, but his mother’s head rested on the man’s shoulder. This was more than offering the woman a moment of comfort, this was the body language of two people who were very comfortable with each other—two people with a familiarity that went beyond friendship.
Trevor’s brain raced until he pulled into his driveway and cut the engine. He’d thought he’d come to terms with Momma dating, but actually seeing them being affectionate with each other unsettled him. Unable to move, he rested his head on the steering wheel and tried to steady his breathing. Back after his father passed, he met with a therapist who offered helpful techniques for when he started to spiral. The only trouble was, he couldn’t remember a damned one of them in the moment.
Why did his mother keep this secret from him? They seemed so close, yet why wouldn’t she share her happiness with him?
Lost in his own musings, Trevor didn’t hear footsteps approach until there was a tap on his window. He jumped so quickly, he honked his own horn. “Jesus.” He sighed as he turned and faced one of his teammates, Malcolm Smith.
Smithy was a nice guy, a year younger than Trevor, but a hard worker. There was also the delicate fact that he’d dated Jessie on and off again since high school, but Trevor tried to forget that little tidbit.
“Smithy, what’s up?” Trevor asked as he stepped out into the night air. He cracked his neck and struggled to get in the moment.
Smithy rubbed his jaw and sighed. “You okay, man? I didn’t mean to camp out at your place, but ...” His words faltered and his shoulders slumped. “You got a minute?”
Trevor pulled his keys from his pocket and jangled them in the air like he was taunting a toddler. “C’mon in. I can’t guarantee I have much to drink, but you’re welcome to what I have.”
“Thanks.” Smithy followed him into his apartment and collapsed on the couch. This wasn’t the first time he’d been over to Trevor’s, as he and Javi come over to watch college football or blow off steam after double shifts.
Today was different though. Smithy seemed to have the whole world resting on his broad shoulders. Trevor rummaged in his fridge for a pair of beers and joined Smithy on the couch, flopping down at the opposite end. They clinked bottles before he relaxed a tad.
Smithy took a slug from his beer and sighed. “Look, this is about work, and if you want me to shut up at any point, I can.”
“Okay,” Trevor said, slowly placing his bottle on the coffee table to give Smithy his full attention. “What’s going on?”
“It’s, um, about Hastings.” He gave Trevor another glance before asking a question that had no right being that funny. “You, uh, ever notice how he’s kind of ... dumb?”
Trevor spluttered, his beer going down the wrong pipe. “Are you serious?” Smithy winced but nodded. “Dude, he’s a moron. The only reason he passed the academy was because he cheated on his written exam. Javi and I couldn’t prove it, but I’d bet my life he couldn’t tell the difference between SCBA and SCUBA. I wouldn’t be surprised if he brought the wrong tank to a fire with flippers on his feet.”
Smithy snorted at that image. “Sadly, I don’t doubt it.”
The skin on the back of Trevor’s neck tingled. “So, what’s up? Not that I don’t like shit talking Hastings, but you seem concerned.”
Smithy was a damn good EMT and firefighter; Trevor trusted his instincts.
Smithy picked at the label on the beer bottle, peeling off strips of paper and letting them flutter to the floor. “Well,” he said on a sigh. “Hastings doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing, with anything. He asked me to help with the zoning reports today, after overspending in the first aid budget.”
“Are you kidding me?” Trevor saw red.
“I wish I was. I was out back with Javi and Maxwell, and he came out all excited that there was a project for me. Next thing I know, he’s tossing binders at me and heading out to golf with half of the city council.”
Trevor frowned. “Golfing isn’t technically a crime, man.”
Smithy scoffed. “We need a real captain. Someone who knows the job, the equipment, how to manage people. He’s too busy ruffling feathers and making enemies with his own team.” Smithy’s chocolate gaze bore through Trevor, his concern burning through his stare.
Trevor’s voice was low. “I really can’t do anything about this, man. You need to talk to the chief.”
Chugging the last of his beer, Smithy set the bottle down and groaned. “I know, Trev, but I wanted you to know. We all know it should have been you, and I guess I’m just looking for your input. Is going to Chief the right thing to do?”
“I mean, if the shoe was on the other foot, and you had evidence he can’t fulfill his duties, it’s worth a shot.” He exhaled, feeling tired. “Just don’t mention you spoke to me. It would probably look like sour grapes.”
Smithy pushed himself up and strode toward the door. His steps seemed lighter since he arrived, and Trevor was grateful he was any help.
They stood in the doorway a moment, and Malcolm’s gaze strayed to a family photo on the wall taken a few Christmases ago. Jessie had made it home for a whole week to celebrate before hopping on a plane to her next assignment. Trevor remembered Smithy made more than one appearance at the house that week.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how is JJ doing in the Peace Corps?”
JJ, the nickname alone brought out the older brother in Trevor. To his knowledge, Smithy was the only person to use that moniker with his sister. The question was innocent enough, but Trevor tensed. “Well enough, still has no desire to put down roots.”
Smithy’s trademark grin made its first appearance of the evening. “That sounds like our girl.” He cleared his throat and jutted his chin toward the exit. “Do you know if she’s planning on coming home anytime soon?” His voice squeaked, and he amended, “You know, just to visit?”
Trevor lifted a shoulder. “Don’t know, man. I hope so, but ...”
Smithy nodded. “But with JJ you never know.” Glancing one more time at the photo, he took another step toward the door. “I should probably head home and crash.”
After a quick nod, Trevor opened the door for him. “I appreciate you coming over. I hope I helped.” And I appreciate you not asking more about Jessie, because I don’t think I can handle that drama now.
“You’re a damn good fireman, Trev. Someday you’ll get that promotion.”
Trevor raised a hand in farewell before walking inside and collapsing back onto the couch. What. A. Day.
His date with Whitney might as well have been a lifetime ago after Smithy’s visit. He’d known for years that Hastings wasn’t worthy of the uniform, let alone a rank of captain. Trevor’s mind whirled with questions and thoughts for the chief, but they all went nowhere. Honestly, the only question he had for the chief was what was happening with his momma.
As he got ready for bed and slipped beneath the covers, Trevor thought about the last week of his life, specifically how Whitney had made everything better. He wanted to talk about his conversation with Smithy, but he wouldn’t yet.
He wished Whitney were here now, because he’d love to pick her brain on the Hastings issue. Plus, he wouldn’t mind another kiss, or five.
Unable to stop himself, and despite the late hour, he snatched his phone from the nightstand.
You up? he texted, immediately feeling like an absolute idiot. Realizing how that text could have been interpreted, he frantically added, To talk! Geez, this isn’t going well.
Fortunately he was only in misery for a moment before the three dancing dots appeared. Whitney would either call him a pervert or a moron, and he was okay with either so long as she was talking with him.
LOL! Yeah, can’t sleep.
Me too, what’s your excuse?
The dots appeared immediately, and Trevor couldn’t stop the grin from crossing his face.
Some really hot fireman took me out to dinner, and I guess I’m too giddy to sleep.
You don’t say? I went out with this stunning brunette tonight, and she’s all I can think about. Weird.
Trevor imagined Whitney giggling at their exchange. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed his phone to his chest. His brain tried to remember the exact way her face looked when she laughed, how the skin around her eyes crinkled and her freckles popped. He wasn’t bold enough to ask to FaceTime, but he wanted to hear that melodic voice, be the last person he heard before he fell asleep.
Without overthinking it, he picked his phone back up and was about to dial when an incoming call from Whitney rang. The ringtone blared around him as he shot upright and answered on a breathy exhale, “Hey.”
“Hey.” Whitney’s voice sounded small, quiet. “Is it okay that I...?”
“Yes!” He practically shouted into the phone. “I mean, of course.”
Finally, he heard a small chuckle that covered his soul like a balm. “I’m going to sound ancient,” she started, voice dripping with fatigue, “but sometimes I prefer real phone calls over texting.”
Reaching out, Trevor turned off his bedside lamp and nestled back into the bed. He tucked his phone between his ear and the pillow and didn’t bother fighting his giddy grin. “I like phone calls too, especially with the right people.”
“Well, you answered. I guess that means I’m right people,” she teased.
Trevor had to bite his tongue to stop himself from blurting out You’re THE right person. Instead, he played it as cool as he could, given his rapidly beating heart. “You certainly are.”
“I’m glad,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “I’m glad you answered,” she repeated.
The sound of rustling fabric came through the line, and Trevor pictured Whitney curled up in the guestroom. Idly, he wondered what she slept in, and if she let her curls loose while she slept. His fingers itched with the desire to run his hands through that sea of corkscrews, to smell the lilac of her shampoo.
Realizing he was getting a little too excited from this phone call, he cleared his throat. “Me too.”
“Tonight was,” they said in unison, causing both to burst into fits of laughter.
Always the Southern gentleman, Trevor offered, “You go first.”
Whitney sighed, a contented sound that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “I was going to say that tonight was lovely, Trevor. I haven’t had that much fun in longer than I care to remember.”
“Me either!” he nearly shouted in his haste to reassure her. This was far from a one-sided attraction for him.
“When I left Savannah, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.” She chuckled softly, then said, “Guess I still don’t know. But today was ...” She took a moment to collect her thoughts, and Trevor patiently listened to her breathing. If this was all this call turned out to be, he’d gladly take whatever Whitney would give him. “Today was amazing. It started with a great day at the shop, and I feel like I’m making real friends here. I know Daisy’s your momma, but she’s wonderful and warm. I don’t get to see my own mom very often, and I didn’t realize how much I missed having someone to talk to without having to filter myself, you know?”
“I do know,” Trevor quickly agreed, understanding his momma was one in a million.
“But that’s not the only reason today was great,” she breathed, her voice tinged with fatigue. “Tonight was perfect, Trevor. I truly had a lovely time, and I hope we can do that again.”
Pulse racing, Trevor thought his heart would explode from excitement. “You free right now?” he asked, only half joking.
“Give a girl a chance for her beauty sleep, mister.”
“You don’t need it, darlin’.”
Whitney hummed. “You better not break my heart, Mr. Mays, because I think you’re dangerously close to taking it.”
The admission shocked Trevor, but only because it was so close to how he was feeling. Even with Virginia, he’d never felt this relaxed and seen . Whitney let him be Trevor ... flaws and all.
“I won’t break it. I promise.” Even though she couldn’t see him, he crossed his index finger across his chest.
Whitney yawned, and Trevor pulled back the phone to check the time. It was after midnight, and she had to work in a few hours. “I’ll let you get your sleep, Whitney. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Hmm, I’m glad. Good night, Trevor.”
“Good night, darlin’.”
Trevor hung up first, fearful he’d do something stupid like kiss the phone.
The call with Whitney had worked wonders, erasing the tension after Smithy’s visit. The more Trevor thought about Smithy and his sister, the more he wanted to spend time with Whitney. Life wasn’t always fair, and it didn’t always bring people together. He wanted to enjoy his time with Whitney, no matter how long it lasted.