I’ve been doing my best not to take out my aggravation on my crew, but more days than not lately, something sets me off. They’ve figured out by now that it’s not about them, but it doesn’t make it right. This morning, during forcible entry training, Mark dropped the jaws of life, and I had to walk away. What happened with Tris has been eating me up inside, and the more time that passes without us talking, the worse I feel. I thought time and space would make it better, but all it’s done is make the pit in my stomach grow deeper. I’ve been popping Tums like they’re candy because my stomach has been in knots. But still, I can’t face her. She was right, I am just a fucking coward.
My phone vibrates with a text. Because I tossed it onto the table when I sat down after my phone call with Callie to check on Ellie, it’s in everyone’s line of sight when the name “Thorne in My Side” lights up across it.
“No! She didn’t!”
“Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude.”
“No way!”
Billy, Mark, and Angela all say together as they see the message previewed across the screen. Chief, apparently the only person here who respects people’s privacy, looks at me before we both look down to read the message together.
Thorne in my Side:“Hope you have a quiet night.”
I close my eyes and drop my head back as I clench my teeth. Chief barks out a laugh. This woman... I run my hand through my hair, then drag it down over my face. There’s one thing that you never, ever,say, acknowledge, or even think aboutas a first responder, and it’s the wordQuiet.It’s the unspoken rule, and I don’t know who told Tris, but if I find out, that person better put a few walls or miles between us.
“I’m sure it’s fine, it’s not like she said,I hope you have a quiet nightout loud,” Mark tries to justify.
Chief laughs harder, grabbing his stomach. Billy slaps Mark in the back of the head, and Angela tries to quit on the spot. Our eyes are darting between each other as an eerie stillness falls over the firehouse, daring one another to test the universe one more time, but it’s too late.
The firehouse alarm goes off.
“And so it begins...” Angela mumbles.
Everyone but the chief takes one more bite of our now discarded meals and gears up. We climb into the truck and take off.
“Good luck,” Chief yells over the siren as we exit the bay.
I’m not a superstitious guy, but this isn’t just not washing your “game day socks” or wearing your pajamas “inside out” in hopes of a snow day like we used to do when we were kids. Saying the word “quiet” is like poking a bear... the bear wakes up, and usually, it’s not happy about it.
Two fall injury calls, three ALOC calls, two difficulty breathing calls, a false alarm, four overdose calls, a gas leak call, and one idiot who thought he knew how to use fireworks but onlymanaged to light half the beach on fire and lose a finger. I could blame it all on being Labor Day, or on the fact that Tris told us to have a quiet night, but either way, by the time I drag myself to my bunk, I’m exhausted.
I have to talk to her. My guilt hasn’t gone anywhere, and avoiding her isn’t helping anyone. I’ve put everyone around me on edge, which isn’t surprising, but what is surprising is how I miss her. It’s different from the way I miss Krystal. Missing Krystal has become a quiet ache that’s always there, but with time, it’s slowly becoming more manageable. It’s not that the pain has gone away. It’s still there. It’s more like my heart has made space to keep beating and navigate its way around it.
I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone I share a wall with, but sometimes when I’m home and hear her shuffling around on the other side, I wonder if she’s had a good day, what flavor recipe she’s thought of next, or if she’s figured out how to use that machine she always complains about at work. We’d finally found a rhythm, a routine that intertwined with each other effortlessly. We shared our mornings watching the sunrise, coffee in hand, while Ellie snoozed between us. The days I worked, I didn’t worry about Ellie because I knew she’d be happy with Tris. Somehow, Tris made her way into the cracks of my life, and now, without her in them, they somehow seem wider.
“I’ve got to say it, you look terrible,” Tom says, looking me over from across the table.
He asked to meet me here at the Cozy Pines Cafe this morning when I got off my shift to drop off Ellie, but also to check in. Even though I’ve been using him and Callie for the last month as my personal dog sitters, I’ve been dodging having any real typeof conversation. Tom is going to make me face my shit, and I’m not sure I’m ready, but a part of me knows I could have told him to meet me at home instead. So here we are, sitting at one of the outside patio tables, killing two birds with one stone.
I give Tom the highlights of what went down, keeping the more intimate parts to myself, but giving him the idea. I have never understood men who go around telling every detail of their sex life. Some things should stay between a man and his woman. It’s about respect, and that’s the least I can do for Tris at this point, even if beingmy womanis the farthest thing from what she is now. I run my hand over Ellie’s head, trying to shake the way that makes me feel uneasy.
“Whew,” Tom whistles, leaning back. “I wish you had told me sooner. At least then I could have told you what a dumb ass you’re being.”
He takes a sip of his pineapple mango smoothie and shakes his head while I glare at him.
“Wow, that’s super helpful. Thanks. So glad I met you here,” I grumble.
“Someone has to be the one to tell you.”
He looks around to see if anyone is coming with our food that he ordered before I got here, and I do the same. My eyes scan slowly over the patio. It’s quiet here today, which is typical after a holiday weekend. The other patrons have finished paying, and only we and one other occupied table are left. Reluctantly, my gaze finds the door.
I see her before she sees me, walking out with a tray and a relaxed expression. Beside me, Ellie’s tail wags harder than it has in weeks. The sight of her has my pulse jumping and my stomach churning. She doesn’t walk around smiling. That’s not who she is. Her smiles are earned, not freely given, and suddenly I’m contemplating everything I’d give to see hersmile at me again.
The moment she sees me, that relaxed expression disappears completely. Her eyes narrow, and even from a few tables away, I can feel the daggers as if they were made of ice, piercing their way through me. Her back straightens, and her strides become faster as she stalks toward our table with the tray of food.
“Here we go,” Tom mumbles under his breath as I prepare myself.
My gaze is locked on her, and she’s almost to our table when suddenly she trips and comes flying forward, crashing to the ground. The tray clatters around her, where the food is now a mess on the ground. My own chair scrapes against the ground as I jump up and, within seconds, am kneeling at her side.
