And it’s her.
In my twenty-four years,I’ve been to two of The Fallen Firefighters events. Both times I’ve come with my parents and brothers. But tonight, I’m standing without any of them beside me.
Huxley Bay Manor hosts the event every year in their ballroom. I take in the shimmering light from the multiple chandeliers above my head.
My eyes track those just arriving, taking a glass of champagne from a silver platter presented to them.
I’m standing a few feet away from the long, curved bar near the back of the room, leaning against the creamy white pillar away from the crowd.
Growing up, my mom always said I was my dad’s shadow. I can still picture myself in yellow rain boots, a garden hose in one hand, and my red fire engine hat on my head, pretending to fight fires.
People always thought I’d follow in his footsteps. None of my brothers did. They joined the family business on my mom’s side, but Dad was never disappointed. He always said his job wasn’t his legacy.
We were.
When I traded my firefighter hat for a hockey puck at four years old, he told me he was proud of me for finding my own dream.
I’m ejected out of my thoughts when Hayes clears his throat, like he’s been trying to get my attention for a while.
“Hey, man, thanks for coming,” I say.
Hayes nods. “Always, brother, always.”
I’ve known Hayes for a long time. It’s not a surprise he’s here tonight. Guilt rushes through me for ignoring most of his messages and calls—and pushing him and the others away for as long as I did.
Hayes steps closer, sensing my tension, and pulls me into a man hug.
“You did what you had to do,” he says. “Grief is complicated. Everyone deals with it differently, even if we don’t agree with their methods.”
His words stretch further than just my family’s absence at tonight’s event. He’s talking about me not being around since the accident. I know he’s not bringing it up to hold it against me. It’s a reminder that he’s here for me.
“I know they’re still grieving, but I really thought they’d show,” I say.
Before Hayes can comment, Oliver and Austin appear with drinks in hand.
“From Rudy,” Oliver says, offering me a glass. “He couldn’t make it. He’s with Hank.”
“Everything okay between them?” I ask, wondering why Rudy would need to have a sit down with his agent.
“Yeah. Hank’s wife took a fall. Rudy just wants to be there to support them,” Oliver assures me.
“So, where’s your girl?” Austin asks.
Those two words—your girl—have me relaxing instantly.
I pull out my phone, finding her last text. She’s running late because of a few follow-up questions Ink and Print called to ask her, but she’s on her way.
A mic squeaks, and I glance up to see Jim, the battalion chief, stepping up to make a speech.
“Thank you for being here tonight to honor the brave men and women who fought to protect and serve. To the families who are here tonight, missing loved ones, you’re not alone. You will always have family within the Huxley Bay Fire Department. Thank you.”
As the crowd applauds, a screen lights up behind Jim showing photos of the fallen. The third picture is my dad.
“I’m gonna get some air.” I’m moving before anyone can respond.
I slip out of the ballroom and walk down the corridor to the elevators, pushing the button. The second I’m inside and the doors close, I let out a frustrated breath and thump my fist against the wall.
When will this get easier?
