“Did you ask your mom for money?”
“Yeah, she gave me some last week. I can’t ask her again.”
“Sounds like someone’s having too much fun. You’re supposed to be there to study. Not go out partying with different girls every night. I’ve seen your IG feed.”
“I didn’t think you knew what an IG feed was.”
“Of course I know. I’m not that old.” I actually didn’t know until Sera mentioned it the other night, and since then, I made a point of checking what my son was up to.
“This will be the last time, I promise, Dad. I’ll look for a job.”
“I’m sure you can work at a restaurant or something.”
“I’m not working at a restaurant, Dad. I have some street cred to uphold.”
“Is that why you ended things with Sera? Did she embarrass you?” I refuse to believe there’s truth in what Sera said, but the more I learn about my son, the more I’m beginning to think he’s a selfish prick who needs educating on how to treat women.
“No. Of course not. I just?—”
“What?”
“I just didn’t want to be tied down and waste my college years.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. If he thinks being with Sera is a waste, then he needs his head looked at. I’d do anything to have that girl.
“I’ll transfer you the money.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go tell that to your mother.” I chuckle again, but it’s short-lived as thoughts of Sera filter in.
Three days.
That’s how long it’s been since I last saw her.
Seventy-two hours of pretending everything’s fine while my crew won’t shut the hell up about “Chiefy’s dramatic rescue at the harbour bar.”
I can’t even pour myself a coffee without someone humming theBaywatchtheme.
I scrub a hand over my face, ignoring the laughter coming from the dayroom.
Hollywood’s voice carries down the corridor like nails on a chalkboard.
“What’s so funny?” I say as I enter the communal space.
Drake smirks.
“Hey Chief,” Phoenix says. “Drake was just wondering if you’re conducting any more public rescues tonight.”
Bear chuckles. “Thought we were supposed to save people from fires, not from bad dates.”
I glare at them both over the rim of my mug. “You two got a death wish?”
Hollywood grins, all dimples and zero shame. “Nah, just trying to keep the romance alive around here. You should’ve seen yourself, Chief. Storming out of the bar like some jealous husband. Whole town’s still talking.”
“Not jealous,” I say, though even I don’t believe it. “She was drunk.”
“She was dancing,” Hollywood says. “And from where I was sitting, you looked ready to bite the head off anyone who looked at her sideways.”
