Me
Thinking about you and hoping work is going well. Stay safe. Good night.
Setting my phone back on my nightstand, I curl onto my side and hug my pillow. I don’t know how long it takes me to find sleep, but it’s longer than normal.
And my dreams?
They’re full of Collin…
And Whitney.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Collin
I’m startled awake by the notification chime on my phone. With heavy arms, I reach for the device, hoping to silence it before it wakes up the rest of the crew. Everyone is still sleeping, thanks to a massive office building fire in downtown Sycamore. We got called out yesterday afternoon around three and didn’t pull the trucks back into the station until twelve hours later.
By that point, we were zombies and when the work was complete and we finally hit the hay, I crashed. I never even glanced at my phone, even though Lizzie wasn’t far from the front of my mind.
I tap on the screen and input my password, noting a couple of new messages from my sister. Running my hand over my face, I click on her name and read.
Charli
You’re the biggest idiot ever.
Charli
Seriously, Collin. What the hell?! You’ve got to be the dumbest man alive, and considering the company our brothers keep, that’s saying something.
Charli
You better be sleeping, because it’s taking everything I have not to drive there and kick your ass.
I run my hand over my face once more, trying to figure out what in the world I did to piss in her Cheerios this early on a Sunday morning. When I come up with nothing, I fire off a reply.
Me
What’d I do? Been a long night. We’re all still sleeping.
I catch the time at the top of the screen, noting it’s just after eight. Won’t be long and we’ll have to get up and start chores for the day, including making breakfast. Those thoughts are cut off by my sister’s reply.
Charli
Whitney showed up at paint night last night.
Blood starts to swoosh in my ears as I read her words. My heart starts to pound as dread fills my entire being.
Me
Shit.
Charli
Yep. And in true Whitney fashion, she ran her mouth to Lizzie. I don’t know what about—she wouldn’t tell me. But gauging by the look on Lizzie’s face, I’m sure it wasn’t the ho-bag speaking your praises.
Charli
