Chapter 1
Tanner
The day my best friend moved back to Australia was one of the hardest I’ve ever lived through, but today takes a close second.
I feel sick as I arrive on the first floor of the firehouse, making my way toward the chief’s office. I know exactly how this conversation is gonna go. I flunked the test. Again.
I don’t know why I keep trying when I’m never gonna pass and become a qualified firefighter. Dyslexia is a bitch.
And these thoughts aren’t gonna get me anywhere. My carefree smile is well practiced to hide how I’m really feeling, and it slips onto my face easily when I knock on the office door and the chief calls for me to enter.
We exchange pleasantries as I take a seat, but my gut is in my damn throat, and I kinda wish we could skip this whole conversation so I can go home and call Roo. Everything feels better when I’m talking to him.
“Tanner, I …” Chief Lawson trails off, rubbing a meaty hand over his mouth. “You’re one of our best volunteers, but when I place a test in front of you … Is there something going on?”
“No, sir.” Nothing specific. Nothing worth mentioning.
“You didn’t even score fifty percent. I think your results were worse than last time.”
My jaw flexes on instinct, but I keep quiet. I lived through being the dumbass who can’t read in high school. I’m not prepared to go through it here.
Stale silence creeps slowly through the room.
“I’m sorry,” he says. The word is heavy with finality. “I should have the budget for another full-time firefighter in six months. Until then, you need to study. You need to work out whatever is going on with you.” He tosses the test toward me with a growl. “You know this stuff.”
I don’t make a move to pick up the paper. “Thank you for taking the time to see me in person.” And while I’m grateful, my words are empty. Just like my head. I’m starting to think it’s time I faced the fact that I’m on the wrong path. I drag my hands back over my short hair. “Can I go?”
Chief grimaces, shifting his bulk in his chair, his black eyes watching me intently. “Yes. Reach out if you need me, though, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Of course not.
I hold it together until I make it out of the office, down the hall, and into the locker room. Frustration prickles at my eyes, but I clench my jaw and push it all back. Tears don’t help anyone.
And once I acknowledge that, my shoulders slump as the anger rushes out of me, leaving my muscles heavy with exhaustion. The last thing I needed on the back of a twelve-hour night shift was to be told I’d failed my assessment test on the job I wanted more than anything.
More than my dream of the Olympics in high school.
More than buying my own place a little outside of town.
More than … Well, not more than my best friend coming home. So maybe not more than anything, but it’s definitely right up there.
All I’ve ever wanted was to make a good name for myself in Sunbury, so when people say Tanner Everett, it makes them smile. It makes them think of a good person, a reliable person who has his shit together. This job was all part of that plan.
And maybe that’s not what most people want out of life, but I like simple.
Yet even after five years of proving myself, I’m still floundering.
I grab my stuff and make my way out of the station, trying to act gracious to Pauly and Jones when they tell me, “Maybe next time.”
Which they’re right in saying, but there’s a massive stress on the maybe part of that sentence. Like maybe one day reading and writing won’t be the bane of my existence.
It’s the usual brisk December morning, but the chill doesn’t touch me as I make my way to my car. At least I can be grateful that as a volunteer, I don’t have to work full shifts, and sure, I’m not getting paid, but it gives me a level of freedom the other guys don’t have.
Things could be worse.
I keep reminding myself of that the whole way home. It’s done now. Stewing over it isn’t going to change anything, but it’s really hard to shift that anxiousness gripping me.
Chief’s right. I did worse than the first time I took that stupid test. If I was smart, I’d use the next six months to take things seriously.
I already know what my problem is; I’ve been dealing with it since before I can remember.
The thing is, there’s no fix. It’s all a constant battle, and to make myself feel better, I do what I do best: I play dumb and hope the problem goes away.
I make it into my apartment and dump my work bag by the door. It’s been a while since I was down on myself, and I don’t plan on starting with the mopey shit now. Instead, I pick up my phone, check the time in Sydney, and then click on Roo’s number. Early morning here means late night there.
Like always, my best friend answers within a few rings.
“Tanner!” His deep voice immediately makes me smile. “Did you get your results? How were they?”
I force a laugh. “I did, and not good.”
“Not good because you were hoping to do better, or not good because you didn’t apply for the assistance you specifically told me you had?”
“We’re not doing this again,” I say, trying to sound like I’m teasing.
“Incorrect. We’ll do this until you start listening to me.”
I sigh. “Roo, can we not? Please?”
For a moment I worry he’s in one of his argumentative moods, but to my relief, he lets it go. “You on your way home?”
“Already here. Thought I’d give you an update before I jump in the shower.”
“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t go your way. Next time?”
Next time. Do I really want to go through that again? I dunno. “Yeah, next time.”
Roo starts to laugh. “It’s hilarious that after all these years you still try and lie to me.”
The familiarity makes me warm inside. There’s nothing on earth like talking to the one person who knows what’s happening in your head even better than you do. “Fine. I’m a bit confused. I think the result is too fresh. I need a bit of space, and then I’ll be ready to go again.”
He hums. “I’ll never get tired of your endless optimism.”
I settle back on my couch, not bothering to turn the lights on. Heavy clouds are blocking the weak morning sun, making my living room sufficiently moody. “Eh, no point getting down about things you can’t change.”
“Nothing is outside your control, Tanner.”
I laugh. “That’s because you think I can do anything.”
“Yeah, I do.”
That lightness settles over me again. “You’ve always thought too much of me.”
“And you’ve never given yourself enough credit.”
And that’s the thing about Roo. Ever since we met, as scrawny little eleven-year-olds, he’s always been fiercely on my side. It’s ridiculous how blind he is to all my faults, but I’m the same with him. “Did I tell you Jules is moving out?”
“What? No. When did that happen?”
“She gave me the heads-up two weeks ago. Still another two weeks before her house is ready, but we always knew this wasn’t a long-term thing.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “So you’re looking for a housemate again?”
“Guess so.” I groan. “It’s gonna be such a pain in the ass, because there’s so many people looking for a roommate in Nowhere, Oregon.”
“Umm …” There’s a pause. “I, ah, maybe I know of someone.”
That gets my attention. “Oh yeah, who?” Who the heck does he talk to around here that I don’t?
“The guy’s a bit messy.”
I cringe. “How messy?”
“Messy enough to drive you mad. And he wants to get a cat.”
“Messy and a cat? I dunno …”
“Are you really in a position to be picky?”
I bite off my objection. I don’t need a roommate.
My two-bedroom apartment isn’t exactly expensive.
But the more I pay for this place, the less I can put away for the down payment on my own house.
“Okay … Messy and a cat. What else? Will he watch me while I sleep? Because that could be the hat trick.”
“You used to love it when I watched you sleep,” he teases.
“No, I used to put up with it. Because you take forever to drift off.”
“He’ll probably watch you sleep, if I’m honest. He wakes up late too.”
I groan. “It almost sounds like you’re describing yourself.”
“Well, he sounds like me.”
“That so?”
“And he does look like me.”
Something in his tone makes me sit up, suddenly on edge. “Wait, are you … Roo, are you coming home?” My voice breaks, and the excitement that fills my stomach is near sickening. If I’m wrong, this will be the most disappointing part of my day, and it’s barely seven a.m.
His laugh is so soft, I almost miss it. “I love that you still call it home.”
“Because it is home.” My heart is smashing against my ribs. “Are you?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Roo?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” He takes a deep breath. “I think … Well, why not?”
“What does that mean?”
“That I might. The surgery’s well and truly done, uni’s over, and I’m back from my trip around Europe. I … I always imagined I’d be back to visit one day.”
Holy shit. I feel light-headed. “This better not be one of your jokes.”
“Promise.” His voice goes scratchy. “I’ve missed you too.”
Missed you doesn’t even cover it, though.
All through middle school and high school, Roo and I were inseparable.
Classes through the day, sleepovers almost every night.
He’d force himself out of bed early to come and time my swim practices, and when he got a part-time job at the only fast-food place in town, I went and signed up as well.
We had other friends, but nothing came close to our friendship.
And then his seizures ramped up senior year, and suddenly his parents were talking about moving back to Australia for surgery, and in the space of two weeks I went from seeing him every day to not at all. It killed me. And for his sake, I had to pretend it didn’t.
“When?” I finally ask.
“Soon,” he promises.
Soon.
I feel completely wrong-footed. It’s been five long years of jumping between knowing everything about each other, to months of no communication. I can’t even imagine him being here, slotting back into my life like he never left.
And then there’s a worse option: what if he doesn’t fit into my life at all?
I’m nervous as hell.
Because as much as I want Roo back here, I don’t know what to expect.