We’re on our way back out from the hospital, having just dumped off the feisty old fart that was in desperate need of a cast for the wrist I know he broke over my head. There’s already another call in the queue waiting for our response despite how small of a town this is. The places we pass are all dark. It’s past closing time and last call was hours ago.
I don’t know much about it—well, I don’tremembermuch about Barren Ridge—but the guy with a savage smile and a beef stick hanging from his gritted teeth seems to know just fine. Which makes sense. Hatley might live with me on the outskirtsof the next town over, but he grew up here from the day he was born. Works both firehouses like a total beast of an EMT, even if I’ll never admit that to his face.
Like, I seriously don’t think the guy ever sleeps except on Sundays.
Those days, I order take out and leave it at his door if I’m feeling risky.
Anything more than that and I might lose my head.
But Monday to Saturday?
He’s driving this bus around, chasing the savior’s high of saving lives and running towards the danger like the adrenaline junkie I know he is. And when we’re not on shift? He’s still chasing that high elsewhere.
It’s why Hat and I get along so well.
He’s my best friend.
I, on the other hand, like my sleep from time to time. Which is why this is the first time I’ve been back to this town in something like ten years. With the shortage of medically trained dumbasses like myself willing to hit raccoon mode and take the night shift, our captain widened our district and promised assistance to good ol’ Barren Ridge. Meaning; I had a chance to volunteer.
Because I’m just as thirsty for that edge that Hat is.
He thinks he’s hot shit with his light hair and careless grin, but he’s clearly running from something like the rest of us. There’s an air about him that just draws you in and makes you want to laugh with him, even though he’s fucked in the head. We all are a little bit, I think.
Too bad I’m mostly straight.
“Burritos are calling my name, man,” I grumble and climb into the passenger seat. “And that shit stinks worse than I do,” I say, gesturing the beef disappearing between his lips.
I snatch the stick straight from his mouth and take a giant bite.
“At least I don’t have to tell you how bad you smell.” My lip lifts in a mock snarl he just laughs at and steals the stick back. “We’re on our way to a ghost dial for wellness, bro. The diner should be open when we’re done there.”
Ah, how the off-shift rolls.
Fuck small towns and their propensity to shun the night owls of the world. I’d like my grocery shopping done at midnight, please and thanks.
“There’s a stash of uniforms—” he reaches into the space behind his seat and starts tugging “—in. Here.Shit.” He yanks and nearly smacks me in the face when I lean to help relieve the bag from its prison.
“Jesus. Cram it in there harder next time.”
He snorts. “That’s what he said.”
I let my face go slack, then flip him off as he tosses the bag at my head.
“ETA two minutes.”
I curse and kick off my boots, shimmy the pissy pants down, and pull fresh ones from the bag.
It’s not ideal but it’s also not the first time I’ve had the change mid-shift. Certainly, won’t be the last, either. We all learn early on to have spare uniforms stashed somewhere.
I’m stomping back into my boots when Hatley pulls the bus over and hops out to grab his go-bag from the back.
Fly zipped and pockets refilled, I’m right behind him on the cracked pavement you could barely call a sidewalk with all the weeds growing through it.
There are no lights on in the house, all the blinds are drawn, and there’s a shadowy feeling to the porch when we step up to it.
“Hello?” Hatley calls when no one answers his knocking.
The look he throws my way has a chill rolling down my spine.
