“Your father sure has me confused,” I mumble, heading for the shower.
I’m blow-drying my hair when my phone rings again. “It’s about time,” I snap at Finley.
“I’m sorry. I should have checked in on you.” Her voice is low as I pull my hair into a ponytail and head to the kitchen to pack a bag of snacks. I hear her sniffling.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Not really, but how are you feeling?”
“Oh no.” I stop what I’m doing. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, my marriage is falling apart.” Her voice goes higher. “He’s cheating on me.”
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Finley. Do you want to come here and stay for a bit?” I look around the house and know right away that it would kill her. She’s got one of those trust funds set up by her grandparents, so sleeping here would be like camping to her. Not that she’s ever said anything like that, but I’ve seen where she lives and can tell.
“No, you don’t need me to bring this to your doorstep. How are you feeling?” She’s turning it around on me, and I know it’s because she doesn’t want me to harp on it. I fill her in.
“So baby daddy is sticking around?”
“That’s what he said.” I grab my clothes. “I’m not going to count my chickens before they hatch.” She laughs, which makes me feel better.
“Well, why don’t you take it one day at a time?” she advises. My eyes go to the air conditioners he bought me and then the overflowing fruit bowl. “I have to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You call me whenever you need me,” I tell her.
“Thanks, girl.” She disconnects, and I head out. The heat hits me in the face as soon as I open the door. The humidity is a killer, and I know lots of people will be suffering. “It’s going to be a busy night,” I state, getting into the car and opening the windows.
The minute I arrive at work, Chief Scooter comes out of his office and looks down the stairs at me. “Collins,” he says, “I was wondering if you were going to show up for your shift today.”
“I would have called before ten if I wasn’t. I got food poisoning. Never going to touch chicken again.” I roll my eyes. “I mean, not for a while. I think I’ll stick to beef.”
He laughs. “That sounds like a good plan. I guess you won’t be eating dinner with us tonight. It’s chicken parm.”
I shake my head, walking up the stairs to the locker room. “You would guess correctly on that. Hopefully, I’ll be out on calls when it’s time to eat, so I don’t have to smell it, or else I’ll be eating outside.”
“Attagirl, right back up there,” he praises before he walks back into his office.
Roman arrives two seconds later. “She’s back,” he calls out as I open my locker, dump my bag in there, and get my uniform out.
“I’m back,” I retort, walking into the bathroom and changing into my uniform. The blue pants are fitting me a little tighter around the ass and the stomach. I tuck the matching blue T-shirt into my pants with the Montgavin Paramedic badge on the left side of the chest. It’s also written across my back.
The minute we clock in, we receive a call about someone who has been hurt on the football field. We transport him to the hospital, his head needing a couple of stitches. Then we get a call about an elderly woman who is feeling lightheaded. When we arrive, the windows are closed, and she has a small fan running. Next, we respond to an accident on Main Street, right in front of the bakery. The driver refuses to be transported to the hospital, so I make sure he signs off that he is leaving against our wishes.
We head back to the firehouse after that. When I get out and round the rig, Theo is leaning against his truck in the parking lot. All three garage doors are open, and a couple of the older guys are sitting outside in lawn chairs, shooting the shit.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Roman, whose eyes dart in Theo’s direction. I don’t stay around for him to ask me questions. I walk over with my head down, knowing the guys are going to be watching my every fucking move.
“Hey.” I stop in front of him. “What’s up?”
“Not much.” Theo pushes off from his truck. I can see he’s got some paint on his shirt, and his pants look like they have dirt on them. “Was in the neighborhood, and thought if you weren’t busy, we could get something to eat together.”
I hesitate and look over my shoulder. The guys’ conversation has stopped, and they’re watching me. “I don’t know how long I have.”
“How about we stay here and eat?” He motions with his chin toward the picnic table on the side of the house, in the shade. “If you have to go, then you go. And if anyone asks you, you can say I’m going to be fixing your house.”
“What?” I shake my head, not sure I heard him right.
“You can tell them I’m here to give you a quote or something.”
