4. Dean
DEAN
When I pull into the driveway, the sky is dark and I’m exhausted to my fucking bones.
It was a long ass day fighting a battle with a fire we ultimately lost. No one was hurt, but the house couldn’t be saved.
The homeowners were devastated, and they let us know in no uncertain terms that we failed them.
These are the days when I question my life choices. The days where I feel like my efforts might be better served elsewhere. Our priority is to first save the people and animals. Then contain and eliminate the fire before it can spread. But nights like tonight, it doesn’t feel like enough.
As I cut the ignition, a notification lights up my phone.
Gage: Caught the perp. Dumbass ran a stop sign. Turns out there’s a warrant out for his arrest for stalking.
In between calls today, I kept an eye on the security camera attached to Heather’s front door.
As I suspected, the jackass had the audacity to not only drive by her place on a handful of occasions, but he also came up to the door.
I relayed that information to Gage, hoping he’d catch him in the act.
But even with a license plate number, I expected it to take longer than a few hours before my brother caught up to him.
The warrant is the cherry on top. The one thing that means he’s sitting in a jail cell for the rest of the weekend and unable to bother Heather.
Me: I owe you, man.
Gage: Just glad Heather’s safe.
Me: Me too.
Gage: You want me to give her the good news?
My gaze lifts toward the soft glow of light peeking behind the curtains of the living room window, and all the tension of the day instantly melts away simply knowing Heather’s inside waiting for me.
It’s not exactly the way I’d choose things to be, but today, I’m taking the small wins when they come.
Me: I’ll tell her.
I intend to share the news right away. But the second I step inside, the aroma of a freshly cooked meal drifts to me, and my stomach growls as though I haven’t eaten in a week.
Aries lets out a long meow that seems part welcome home, part you’re late.
As I drop on the bench to kick off my boots, he attempts to weave himself around my calves.
“You’re happy,” I say to him, holding out my hand so he can walk beneath it, arching his back against my fingers.
“I hope you like spaghetti,” Heather calls from the kitchen. “It’s all I know how to make. And really, all you had ingredients for since I still don’t have a car. Has Gage had a chance to check it out?”
Fuck, I forgot about her car.
“I’ll check with him.” I mean to pull my phone out right then, but when I shrug out of my jacket and it falls behind the bench, I don’t have the energy to dig it out. Dinner first. Then I’ll reach back out to Gage to check on her car.
I’m so fucking tired I could fall asleep on the bench, but I force myself to my feet and shuffle toward the kitchen.
“Aries had a really exciting day involving a Cheerio,” Heather says from the stove, stirring a saucepan.
Though I much prefer the sight of her in my T-shirt and bare legs, the neon pink leggings accentuate her perfect ass in the best way.
Fuck, I can’t tell if my mouth’s watering from the food or for her.
Get a grip, man.
“He’s obsessed with Cheerios,” I say. Fighting a long yawn, I sink into a chair at the kitchen table.
“That clocks.” She still hasn’t turned around to look at me once, and I don’t know what that means. Fuck, I hate this tension between us.
For years, I was the one Heather called when she couldn’t figure out how to program a new TV or if she needed a cabinet door hinge tightened.
Even when she was dating someone else. I miss our interactions, however brief they might’ve been.
Out of respect for her family and my little sister, I’ve never acted on the feelings I’ve been harboring for Heather since she moved back to town.
I didn’t want to make things awkward at the gatherings our families so often find excuses to hold should things not work out.
Her reaction to that Christmas kiss only cements the thing I feared most: she doesn’t feel the same.
“Does Aries know what a toy is? I tried to get him to play, but he just looked at me like I was stupid.” I watch as Heather plates our meals. I should get up to help her, but I’m not sure my legs are stable enough to stand.
“Toys are beneath him,” I say, running a hand through my hair. I showered off the worst of mess at the station, but I can’t get past the irrational feeling that there’s soot crawling all over me. As soon as I eat, I’m taking another shower.
“I guess you’re right, because I tried all of them,” Heather says, fishing forks out of the silverware drawer.
“You didn’t have to make dinner,” I say, yawning again.
“I figured it was only fair since you slept on the terrible couch last night.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“I tried to sit in today. Didn’t last an hour before my back was screaming at me.
Trust me. It’s that bad. But if you’re going to let me sleep on the cloud of a bed, I’m not going to complain.
” She lifts the two plates from the counter and spins around, looking at me for the first time since I walked through the door. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I showered,” I counter.
“Was there a fire?”
“Yeah.” She sets the plate in front of me, then hands me the fork.
Our hands graze gently, and the sensation sends warmth up my arm.
I swear she feels it too, because she hesitates for a beat before taking her own seat.
But I dismiss it, certain it’s just the exhaustion playing tricks on me. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Was it bad? Was anyone hurt?”
“Yes. No.”
I inhale the spaghetti, so fucking thankful there was a warm meal waiting for me instead of another soggy microwave dinner. I do love to cook, but it hasn’t seemed worth the effort for just one. And on days like the one I had today, I have no energy to make a mess in the kitchen.
“You’re a pasta man?” Heather guesses, smirking.
I almost say I’m a Heather man, but where would that leave us?
“I appreciate this,” I say, pushing out of my chair and nearly stumbling as I stand.
Heather’s on her feet instantly, and I catch my arm around her shoulders. If I had more energy, my pride wouldn’t allow this. I don’t fucking accept help from anyone. I don’t like to appear weak. But right now, I’m in no shape to argue as this angel I don’t deserve guides me down the hall.
“Let’s get you to the shower,” Heather says.
“But you haven’t finished your food.”
“I will.”
She flips the water on, sets a towel on the bathroom counter, and heads for the door. “I trust you can get undressed on your own?” she asks, hand on the doorknob as she starts to pull it closed.
“If I said no?”
Blush colors her cheeks, and I can’t help but feel a little smug. “Get your ass in the shower before I send Aries in.”
The hot water revives me, but it’s short lived.
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I head for the living room. But Heather intercepts me in the hallway.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Sleep.”
“You’re not sleeping on that piece of plywood,” she says, turning me around. I’m too tired to fight her, so I just shuffle back to the bedroom.
I drop onto the bed like a lead weight, and Heather tosses a blanket over me.
“You can’t sleep on the couch,” I insist.
“You need this bed more than I do tonight,” she says. “I think I saw a cat bed. Looks brand new.”
I catch her by the wrist, and without thinking, softly plead, “Stay with me?”
“It really was a bad one, wasn’t it?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to.
“Okay, I’ll stay.” She crawls under the covers next to me. I yearn to pull her close. After the day I had, she’s the only thing that makes sense. The anchor I crave in a world that doesn’t always make sense. But it’s enough that she’s here beside me, so I don’t press my luck.
“Heather?” I say, yawning as my eyelids can no longer fight gravity. I’m too tired to fight the heavy pull of exhaustion, so I don’t.
“Yeah?”
“That kiss wasn’t a mistake,” I mumble the words, not certain I’ve said them at all, and add, “Not for me.”