“I just might get used to it, Greyson. I might demand a hug every time I see you.” She smiles. “I might even ask for two on Tuesdays.”
I shake my head and climb back up the ladder.
Then, I go about the job, removing the nut, twisting the wires together firmly and screwing it back on. The whole job takes less than ten minutes.
“That should do it,” I say, draining my tea and testing the switch.
“I expect lunch before the month’s out,” Mrs. Kinkaid says.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
I pack up my toolbox, giving her another hug goodbye, and then I head back to my place, shower, pull on a dress shirt and tie, and turn on my laptop.
Three faces greet me when I log into the virtual meeting room. They introduce themselves as a member of FEMA, an HR person and another manager.
My palms sweat. I’m sitting on the same couch where Hallie warmed herself by my fire two days ago. What am I doing? I’d move heaven and earth to be near her.
It’s just an interview, Greyson.
I hold my breath, blowing out slowly through my nose without showing the people on screen that I’m box breathing to ease my nerves.
The questions come one after the other: “Tell us about a time you juggled conflicting priorities,” and “How do you handle stressful or emergency situations?” and “How would you describe your ability to work on a team?”
I’m honest in all my responses. They nod and take notes.
At times they glance at one another. I try to get a read on their reactions, but they’re professional enough not to let on about much.
That third question is the hardest one. “I’m an introvert by nature, a trained soldier and firefighter. I tend to be the one sitting back observing, but somehow people always slate me for leadership. I don’t take that responsibility lightly. It’s my instinct to protect and serve people around me. But I’ve never been accused of being the most smiley guy on the crew or in my unit.”
They laugh at the way I describe myself even though I wasn’t trying to be funny. After a few more questions, we wrap the interview up. They thank me for my time and interest and I thank them for considering me. I shut my laptop and fall back onto the couch. My eyes scan my house—the place I’ve called home ever since shortly after I returned from deployment. Zach never even got to see this place. He did meet Hallie, though. I smile at the memory.
My hand reaches for my cell on the coffee table before I second-guess myself. I pull up Patrick’s name and push the call button.
“Greyson?” Patrick answers, the note of confusion in his voice totally one I’ve earned.
“Yeah. Are you busy?”
“I’m just helping Daisy at the shop. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Never mind. I’m good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I’m about to hang up, but Patrick says, “Grey. Wait. What did you call about?”
“I need … I could use a sounding board. You came to mind. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re always fine. I’m on my way.”
“You don’t have …” The phone clicks. I smile down at it.
Maybe he does have to. I’d be on the way to him if the shoe were on the other foot.
What on earth is Hallie turning me into? First the hug with Mrs. Kinkaid and now I’m asking Patrick to come over and practically braid my hair.
I chuckle. She’s always had me in the palm of her hand—right where I want to be most.
The sound of Patrick’s tires on the driveway filters through the screen door. It’s a gorgeous spring day, one of those that follows a good rain. Puffy clouds fill the unnaturally blue sky and the birds sing like they’re throwing a party.
I step onto the porch and wave.
