Chapter 9
JJ
“Hey, bud, that hat looks a little too big for you,” I say with a laugh, stopping beside the truck with the open door.
“Smallest size we got,” Jake says.
“The guys were about to put the game on upstairs, if you wanna go watch it.”
“Hell yeah,” he says, offering his hand to Noah, who has both hands on the wheel. “Thanks for being a good partner.”
Noah shakes his hand, the hat sliding forward. Jake laughs as he fixes it, then hops out of the truck. JJ takes his spot, and I linger by the open door, watching with a smile.
“He can’t, like… start it, right?”
“He’d need the key for that,” I say.
“Right, and you don’t leave it in there so it’s easier to take off?”
“No, that would be unsafe.”
“Right. Of course. Sorry. I know nothing about any of this.” He laughs nervously.
I have the strangest urge to pull him into a hug and make him feel better.
“Uncle Miles, did you know this is an engine and not a ladder truck? Ladder trucks have the big ladder on top, and they use it to save people from high places. The engine truck carries the water and hooks up to the hydrants while the ladders are for rescuing. And this truck holds five hundred gallons of water for emergencies when they can’t find a fire hydrant right away! ”
Miles’ jaw drops, and I try to hide my smirk. He looks from me to Noah and back.
“Kid knows his stuff,” I comment.
“Don’t doubt it for a second,” Miles says with a sigh.
“And the guys that go into the fires wear these things that are called S-C-B-As and—”
“You mean SCUBA?” Miles asks, and once again, I try to hide my smirk because I already know what’s coming.
“No, Uncle Miles, that’s for people who go under water. That’s what the U stands for—underwater. This is just for them to breathe through the smoke.”
“Right,” he says with a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That does make sense.”
He really is fucking adorable.
“How old do you have to be to be a firefighter?” Noah asks, turning the wheel back and forth as much as it’ll go, which is only a few centimeters, if that. There’s no give because it’s not on, and even when it is, this thing isn’t the easiest to turn.
“Eighteen,” I say. “That’s when I became a firefighter.”
“Wow. And how old are you now?” Miles asks, sounding impressed but also shocked.
I narrow my eyes. “How old do you think I am?”
He laughs. “Oh, no. I’m not falling for that.”
“Think you’ll offend me?”
“I’m just really bad at guessing.”
“He’s right,” Noah says with a snort-laugh. “One time I asked him how many sprinkles were on my cupcake, and he said twelve but there was like a hundred.”
“Hey, first of all, that was on your fourth birthday, and you didn’t even know how to count then. There were twelve.”
Noah rolls his eyes dramatically, and it’s easy to see how great their relationship is.
“Well, since you brought me food and refused to let me pay you back, I won’t torture you. I’m thirty-two.”
“He’s a teacher. He should know better,” Noah comments, still stuck on the sprinkle-counting.
“Just because I’m a teacher doesn’t mean I know everything, Noah. I’m not a genius.” He then looks at me. “I’m twenty-nine, and I teach kindergarten.” He lowers his voice. “Sometimes I think it makes me drop IQ points.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I can see how it would.” I pat Noah on the shoulder. “You want to go around the side to see the tools?”
“Duh!” Noah says.
“Okay, but you can’t touch them. It’s very important that we’re safe with the tools, and you have to be specially trained on how to use them.”
“I swear I won’t touch any of them,” he says solemnly.
We move around the other side of the truck, and I roll up the side.
“Whoa,” Noah says, covering his mouth in shock. He takes Miles’ hand, using his other one to point. “That’s the ax. And that is the halligan. And look at the hose! It’s so big.”
“Hey, I know that one,” Miles says, pointing. “That’s a fire extinguisher.”
I give him a slow clap. “Good job.”
His cheeks turn pink, which happens often. But each time it does, I like it more and more.
“You want to go upstairs and play pool with some of the firefighters before you go?” JJ asks, looking at Noah.
“What’s pool?”
“Only the best thing to do to pass time when you’re waiting for an alarm,” I say.
“Okay!”
We move toward the stairs, Noah skipping ahead of us.
“Not a sports guy?” Miles asks as we start up the stairs.
“Not really. You?”
“Hockey is entertaining,” he says.
“It can be.”
“Hey, is this our new firefighter?” Lewis asks as we step into the lounge room.
“I’m Noah!” he says, jumping up and down. “And I’m going to play pool with you guys.”
A bunch of them laugh as they take over and lead the kid to the table to teach him how to play.
He can barely hold the stick up to the table to shoot the ball, so Jake picks him up, hovering him over it.
We love it when kids come by. Brightens the day a little bit.
We all see so much bad shit, that an enthusiastic kid can help lift the mood in here.
“Thank you for doing this. I hope you don’t think it’s weird,” Miles says quietly as we watch Noah.
“Why would it be weird?”
“Well, you know… because…” He gestures between us but won’t look me in the eye.
“Because we can’t be two mature adults about the situation?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Oh, that’s not what I meant. I just meant, like… I don’t want you to think I’m being clingy or something.”
“Are you?”
“What? No. Of course not.” His cheeks redden further.
“Okay, then. That’s all I need to know.” I look him up and down. “You’re a lot more confident when you’re drunk.”
“I told you alcohol makes me brave,” he mutters.
“I think you’re cute this way.”
“You said I was cute the other night.”
I turn to face him. “Then I guess you’re cute all the time.”
I hold his gaze, tension passing between us. My fingers twitch to reach out and touch him, but of course I don’t. Not here.
“Uncle Miles, I got it in!”
He brings his attention to Noah. “Good job, Noey.”
I swallow hard, stepping away. “Uh, I’m going to get something. I’ll be right back.”
I need a moment away from Miles so I can breathe.
I told myself it was just a hookup and that I would throw his number away, but in a fit of weakness, I called him.
The conversation wasn’t a big deal, but when I ran into him again today?
It feels like maybe I’m supposed to talk to him.
Like maybe I need a friend like him, as much as I tell myself I don’t.
So instead of ignoring him, I talked to him. And now… here he is.
I just need to remember that friends is all we can be.
I can’t do hookups anymore. I have a husband, and I have to make my marriage work.
Which is why I’m taking time off to go visit Franklin.
He’s always harsher on the phone, but when we’re face to face, things are better.
It’ll be better. A trip to California is just what I need.
In the storage room, I pull a few items from the bins lined up on the shelves against the back walls. They’re things we take to functions and charity events. A plastic fire hat, badge, a t-shirt that will be way too big on him, plus a small plastic toy ax is all I find, but it’ll do.
Back in the lounge, I see Miles bent over the pool table, and my gaze immediately goes to his ass.
I remember how good he felt. How good it was between us.
Simple but intense. It was easy. Even now, I don’t feel like I have to worry about him following me around, despite him bringing it up.
Miles genuinely seems like a good person.
Like a good friend. It’s not the sort of thing I’m used to, and that scares me a little—it’s why I’m hesitant but eager to keep talking to him.
Normally hookups are one and done. I never think about them again.
Sometimes I don’t know their names. Miles is different.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about him is very different.
It very simply could be the kindness he showed me.
The way he reacted to my panic attack—something that has never happened to me after a hookup before.
But it had been a rough day, and I was running on barely any sleep and too many beers.
He didn’t freak out or look at me like I was crazy.
He didn’t tell me to get my shit together and get over it because it’s part of the job.
No, he asked me if I wanted to talk about it.
He gave me his number so I could talk about it, if and when I wanted to.
At that point, it wasn’t about the hookup anymore.
It wasn’t about sex. It was about me needing someone and him being a good person.
“Noah, I got you some things,” I say, needing to break this train of thought. I hold up the things I found for him as I walk over.
“Oh, what is it?” he asks.
Miles watches as I hand everything to Noah, one by one, so he can see them all. He puts the shirt on, then the badge, the hat, and holds up the ax.
“Take a picture to send to Mom!” he says to Miles, bouncing on his feet.
This kid is full of energy. I wonder if he ever stops.
Miles pulls his phone from his back pocket, and again, it brings attention to his ass.
I really need to stop looking.
Miles takes a few photos, and I see him add them to a text and send them to who I assume is Noah’s mother.
I hear the loud rumble of the truck outside.
“Hey, bud, you wanna watch the truck come in?”
“Yes!”
We head over to the large glass wall that overlooks the bay.
We stand there and watch the truck pull in, something that is so damn boring but somehow exciting seeing it through Noah’s eyes—for the first time all over again.
When it’s new and the thought of saving people is great and not riddled with all the death that you’ve seen because it’s far more than those who live, it seems. And maybe that’s my fault for choosing my location and my position.
Being on rescue, I see a lot of fucked up shit.
I go on a lot of bad calls. But this is just what I need to do.
And even if we save more people than we lose, losing is always heavier, so it adds up quicker.
“Thank you for this, JJ. Seriously, he’s going to talk about this for weeks.”
“Maybe you won’t be thanking me by then.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’ll be cursing you out. We should get going, though.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
We head down the stairs. Noah waves to the new guys who are coming off the truck, and of course they wave back.
There isn’t a firefighter in here who would ignore a kid at the station.
It’s important they know how things work here.
Giving them knowledge helps with safety, and sometimes it sparks something in them, and they want to do what we do.
“I can’t believe I have to wait eleven whole years to be a firefighter,” Noah grumbles as we reach Miles’ car.
“We have cadet programs and fire explorer programs that start at fourteen.”
“Fourteen!” he shrieks. “That’s like really soon.”
Miles laughs again, rolling his eyes.
“Thanks for stopping by, Noah,” I say with a smirk. “And, uh…” I wait for Noah to get into the car before I say, “Come back anytime.”
“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “For the invite and for not letting him hear that.”
I shove my hands into my pockets and take a few steps back.
“Have a good night, Miles.”
“You too, JJ.” He walks around the front of the car but stops before opening the door and looks up at me. “By the way…” he starts. I raise a brow in question. “When do I get to find out what JJ stands for?”
I can’t stop the grin that splits my face.
“You’re awfully invested in two letters, Miles.”