Chapter forty-one Logan
Chapter forty-one
Logan
I feel like a fucking idiot for all the times before now when I thought I was tired.
Exhaustion clings to every inch of my body and weighs down each move I make.
Jake was sick several more times throughout the night, and each wave seemed to hit him right as Tessa or I were drifting off to sleep.
The important thing is that he is doing better now, and Tessa and I both seemed to have managed to avoid whatever little bout of sickness he had.
She’s home and relaxing with him today, making sure he’s back to top-notch before letting him return to school.
I, on the other hand, have to work. There have been many times over the years when I have wanted to call in and take the day to rest, but I have always felt guilty doing that without actually being sick.
Today feels like the kind of day I should’ve stayed home to take care of my family, but I can’t leave the crew hanging, and pulling in one of the volunteers only works for so long.
Things at the station have been quiet, but I know better than to speak those words out loud. The universe can be a vindictive bitch when a first responder of any kind utters a word about things being quiet or slow. But if I were ever going to wish for a quiet day, it would be now.
Parking my truck, I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder as I climb out.
The first thing I plan on doing once I get inside is grabbing an energy drink from the stash we keep in the fridge.
Coffee isn’t going to cut it today, at least not to start with.
Cain’s truck pulls in right beside mine, and I pause to wait for him.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he groans, peeling himself out of his truck with a coffee in hand. The guy is only a few years older than me, but facing the kind of things we do every day takes a toll. “Starting the day off without coffee, Bennett? Bold move, man.”
I laugh, heading inside with him on my tail. “Definitely need some caffeine, but coffee isn’t gonna cut it.” I’m sure I will be downing a few energy drinks before the day is over, and I’ll keep my fingers crossed about my heart being in the condition to handle the excessive amount.
My first call of the day is an easy one.
Knock on wood. One of Hartridge’s senior citizens, Ms. Gaines, needs the batteries of her smoke detector changed.
It’s a menial task, but one I don’t mind doing.
According to Cain, her husband passed away a few years ago, and she calls the station every few months asking for help replacing the batteries.
I think more than anything, she’s looking for someone to keep her company.
It’s no hardship to handle this task for her, make sure her yard is in good condition, and check on anything else on the property that might need attention.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to try to carry on with your life after losing the person you care for the most. I don’t know how Tessa did it, but I’m so fucking thankful she did.
I hate thinking about the things she had to experience for us to meet, but in a way, I’m grateful.
She and her son are the best things that have ever happened to me, and I don’t know what I would do without them.
It’s crazy to think that just a few short months ago, my life merely consisted of me going through the motions.
I didn’t have a set plan for what the next few years might look like; all I knew was that I desperately wanted a family.
And I’ve found that in Hartridge.
Not just with Tessa and her son, though they have definitely become the most important people in my life, but with the crew at the station as well.
My brother and I have always been close, but maintaining that was harder in the city.
This little town and the charm of having everything so close together has strengthened our bond.
Cain, Gray, Aaron, and even Kinsley, with the distance she keeps, have become family.
Ms. Gaines’s home sits on a quiet street filled with older but well-kept homes.
Her modest single-story is at the end of the cul-de-sac, painted sage green with the bottom portion of the home lined in red brick.
Trimmed yellow rose bushes line the front walkway and sit beneath the large window on one side of the home.
I know she’s not maintaining her yard all on her own, and it’s comforting to know there’s someone else looking out for her, even if it’s just in this small way.
I trudge up her front walkway and knock on the screen door. “Hartridge Fire Department,” I call, keeping my voice light and friendly. She is in her late seventies, and the last thing I want to do is startle or spook her.
“Come on in.” There’s an echo to her voice that tells me she’s farther in the house.
She doesn’t sound distressed, but I take precaution as I enter, looking around for signs of anything being amiss.
Sure enough, I find her in the kitchen. Her white hair is pulled back in a long braid that falls over one shoulder, a light blue apron with bright yellow lemons printed on it tied around her waist. Her attention is on a cake that’s sitting on a small turntable as she slowly spins it and applies a layer of frosting.
“Good morning, Ms. Gaines. I’m here to check your smoke detector.” I don’t think she’s showing any signs of memory loss, but I don’t want to take any chances. It’s better to state my reasoning for being here in case she needs help with anything else.
“Ah, yes. The darn thing was beeping all night. I wanted to climb on a chair and take it down, but I couldn’t reach it. I tried hitting the silly thing with my broom, but it wouldn’t stop.”
I stifle a laugh as she looks my way, the corner of her mouth tipped up with a smirk. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of someone trying to beat up their smoke detector.”
She shrugs, her focus shifting back to the cake. “It was worth a shot.”
“I’ll take a look and make sure it stops,” I assure her.
“Tear the darn thing out if you need to. Just make it stop. My poor Princess was whining and trying to hide all night.” The animal in question, a small white dog that resembles a cotton ball more than a dog, strolls into the kitchen with her tail tucked between her legs.
The smoke detector is located in the small, narrow hallway.
That’s the downside to most of these older homes.
They are full of character, as some would say, with things like built-in shelving, window seats, and large bay windows perfect for breakfast nooks.
They are also not built for anyone over six feet.
There’s not even enough room in the hall for me to stretch out my arms with my six-foot-three frame.
My elbows would hit the walls if I tried.
The low ceilings make it quick and easy to reach up and pluck the detector off its mount to replace the batteries.
I switch out the ones in her carbon monoxide detector as well, just to be safe.
When I’m finished, I find Ms. Gaines right where I left her in the kitchen.
Her eyes lift to mine as I walk in. “You’re all set.
You should be good for another six months or so, but feel free to give us a call if it starts acting up again.
We can always replace it for you if needed,” I say.
“Is there anything else I can do for you while I’m here? ”
She grins and picks up a cake knife as she gives the cake turntable a slow spin, admiring it. “You could help me eat this lemon cake.”
I chuckle and fold my arms over my chest. Cain warned me about her and her insistence on feeding anyone who comes into her own.
For some people, food is a love language.
It’s how they show others they care. But I get the sense that for her, it’s also something to pass the time.
I don’t want to hurt her feelings or offend her by refusing, but a heavy dose of sugar on top of the energy drink I consumed on the way over here probably isn’t the best idea.
“One small slice,” I concede.
Being out and about gave me a boost of energy, but I can feel the fatigue slowly working its way back in.
As soon as I stop moving, I won’t be able to keep my eyes open.
The drills and equipment checks, I can manage.
Hell, I don’t mind doing basic housekeeping chores around the station if it means keeping me awake.
If luck is on my side, we will make it through the day without any major calls.
A few hours and calls for medical assistance later, I’m heating up a plate of grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and rice in the station’s kitchen microwave when my phone rings.
Tessa.
My lips curve into a smile as the nickname I have her saved under flashes across the screen.
“Hey there, darlin’,” I rasp, then clear my throat.
“Hey, Lo. I just wanted to call and hear your voice. I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I’m hanging in there. Not the first time I’ve been tired on the job, won’t be the last. How’s our boy doing?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “He’s doing better. Living on the couch, watching movies. He still doesn’t have much of an appetite, but he hasn’t gotten sick again, and his fever seems to be staying away.”
“That’s good. I’d much rather be there with you two.
Maybe I can take him to school tomorrow so you can sleep in a little before work.
” It’s one of the things I’ve come to love about this job.
Being away for twenty-four or longer periods of time is rough, but knowing that I’ll be home in time to have breakfast with them and take Jake to school gives me something to look forward to.
“I’m sure he would love that,” she says, the hint of a smile clear in her voice.
We end the call with an exchange of I love yous, and my heart has never been more full.
My body rejoices when I finally lay down for the night in hopes of getting a few hours of solid sleep.
I should know by now that it’s when you’re needing an easy shift the most that it won’t happen.
My internal celebration is short lived, all hopes of sleep vanishing into thin air as the alarm sounds and bright light floods the room.
I jolt out of bed, listening to the details of the alarm as I quickly throw on the necessary gear.
Who needs rest when there’s a fire demanding our attention?