Bear Firefighter's Blazing Betrayal

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Gianna

Of course, there’s a text message.

Of course, there is.

The pressure is just too much, and all at once I want to give everything up and just throw myself at the mercy of the incredibly sexy firefighter in front of me.

Firefighter C. Tanner from Company 417. I don’t know what the C stands for.

Probably Completely Perfect. He comes into the store twice a month to buy the groceries for the firehouse.

Every time I see him, I want to just tell him if he finds somewhere to have his way with me, he can.

Now, I want to just offer myself up completely.

Firefighter C. Tanner can just take me away and put me anywhere.

I can just this once forget about everything else and not feel so damned trapped.

He can stick me in a room and just keep me there as his always-available sex uh…

sex person. Okay, you get the point. I’ll be his slave forever and…

Oh, that was it. His always-available sex slave.

Anyway, I don’t mean that in a kinky way.

I just want to be free from all this shit, and living with one purpose, to make a sexy fireman like him happy, is a hell of a lot better than living like I am now.

It’ll be worth giving up all my dreams, freedom, and everything just to be free from the pressure and stress.

“Gianna? You okay?”

It comes from the fire god. “You… You know my name?” I ask.

He smiles the kind of smile that might light kindling, and says, “It’s right on your name tag, and I’ve seen that nametag a million times.”

I blush like an idiot and say, “I set aside some things for you. There’s a ground pork and beef mix that goes on sale today. Whole chickens, too.” I take him in the back and point out those things as well as different meats and other items at a bulk discount for him.

I intend to tell him that I have some dry goods set aside for him, too, but he asks again, “Gianna, are you okay?”

On one level, I feel foolish because he really shouldn’t be able to tell what kind of a day I’m having.

On another level, though, just the acknowledgement that I’m having a tough time is very powerful.

I turn and feel a tear roll down my cheek.

Then, even though I don’t plan for it, I put my hand on his cheek and kiss him.

It’s not a sexual kiss at all even though knowing me, on some night when I’m lonely I’ll turn it into some sort of passionate embrace complete with one of his hands tangled in my hair and the other gripping tightly to my ass.

It’s not like that at all. I press my lips against his, parted slightly, and I keep them there and just…

Well, I don’t know. I just feel the contact.

I hold myself there and then finally pull back.

I look at him, and I swear the man’s face has a perfect expression.

It has some of the wonder of being kissed but a whole hell of a lot of concern for me.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for asking, C. Tanner.”

He maintains his expression except for a half-smile at my words. “Colton,” he says, “and you’ve been looking at my nametag, too.” You know how when you need to go somewhere and cry to feel better? Well, just this little interaction has done that for me.

I help him with his shopping and then head back in. We’re a little grocery store, well, a chain, I guess, if two links is enough to call it a chain. There are two locations. I manage this one. Mom and Dad manage the other one because Kyle… Well, because Kyle.

My brother was a bright kid in school, straight A’s, track champion kind of kid. Then, he met some guys in his junior year that promised him, well, something. There’s been a million versions of this story that he’s told all of us, and each time the places and the faces change.

It doesn’t matter at this point. All that matters is that he’s an addict intent on destroying his life and, damn it, mine as well.

My parents have suffered health issues over their worry for him.

And, of course, the bright future they had hoped for him, taking over the new store and carrying on the expansion and the legacy of Ricci Grocers is gone.

I have stepped into that place. It wasn’t my dream, but it’s what I have now.

What I have.

A brand-new text.

I have yet another text about my brother, it’s from his best friend’s father, who’s a lawyer.

He’s been arrested yet again for trespassing.

I sigh and try not to feel defeated. I can’t let it defeat me.

I assume that it has to be yet another store getting him for trespassing.

They probably caught him trying to steal something, and he was already on their radar, and they trespassed him. Then, he showed up again. Damn it all.

I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of having to be the responsible one.

I don’t get to drown my sorrows in drugs and drift away from all the demands of life.

I don’t get to say I’m sorry a million times over and be forgiven.

My parents never have to find reasons to explain why they do things for me.

They never have to explain to me at all.

Okay, take a breath.

I sigh again and grab my keys. I get on the radio and let Ham, my front-end manager, know that I’ll be gone for a while and that he’ll need to cover.

Then, I’m off to once again bail my brother out of jail.

I shouldn’t do it. I know I shouldn’t. I should leave him to dry out and suffer the consequences of his choices. I should let him face the realities of life and not continue to protect him from himself.

But he’s my brother, and I still remember the track star. The guy who used to laugh so loud at cartoons he’d wake Mom and Pop up every time. The brother that taught me how to play poker and spit for distance.

I get to the station and go through the bail process like an old hand. I wait and then, after three hours, he appears, looking a bit more sober and a lot worse than the last time I saw him.

“Thanks, sis, I ...”

I try to look stern. “I don’t want to hear it. Let’s go.”

I don’t talk to him much more as I load him into my car and head to my parents’ house. What the fuck can I say? Can I scream at him? Can I hit him? I’ve done all of it, and he just apologizes.

And then he does the same fucking shit all over again.

We’ve tried rehab and tough love and fuck, he was even working at the store at one time, as a bag boy, for fuck’s sake. I had to fire him, in a very humiliating moment, for stealing from an open register.

“Gia,” he tries again.

“You need to get to the house and take a shower. You stink.”

He hangs his head and is quiet again.

I get a few blocks from his house and I feel so tired in my bones I feel I might just go in and nap on the sofa but having my brother around means I have to keep an eye on him until my mom or pop get back home.

My little sister, thankfully, is with some friends on a school trip.

She won’t have to see him come home like this again.

I turn the corner onto the street and I see some smoke.

“Shit.”

I speed up and turn into the driveway.

“What the fuck!”

I jump out of the car and I see flames licking at one end of the house.

I don’t even hear my brother yelling. I don’t know if he’s following me as I run into the house.

What the hell is happening to my world?!