Page 62 of Worth the Fight

I smile. “Whoever said that must be brilliant.” I reach for his arm on reflex and then pull back, uncertain of his status with the guys here and how my being here might reflect on him.

“And pretty.” Sigh. And now he turns on the charm. “The other day, you took the time to show me what you do. I thought I’d show you what I do before my shift starts.”

“Thank you.” The gesture touches me unexpectedly. Maybe it’s the fact he cares. Maybe it’s just because it’s the first time I’ve stepped into a station since my dad left, and it hasn’t been as traumatic as I expected. Actually, it’s been quite the opposite.

“Hey, Malone? You ready to pose for the camera, pretty boy?” a voice calls out from the other side of the bay, and Grady’s demeanor changes so swiftly it’s as if someone flipped a switch.

“I told you, Veego. I’m not doing it. Get off my case, will ya?”

“We can’t do it without you, man. Then why is she—oh, sorry. You’re not Marcy,” Veego says when I turn to face him as he walks into view and does a double take.

“Not Marcy,” I say with a chuckle, although I’m suddenly wondering who Marcy is and why she would be with Grady.

“She’s a photographer,” Grady mutters under his breath as if he already knew where my thoughts went.

Veego bears down on us. He’s short and broad and has a smile that would light up a room. “Sorry, Grady. I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Dylan McCoy.” I reach my hand out and shake his while he stares at me for a beat longer than normal.

“Ah, the roommate.”

“Yes, the roommate.”

“Are you going to convince him to do the calendar?” he asks, which earns him a glare from Grady.

“What calendar?” I glance from Veego to Grady and then back to Veego, ignoring Grady’s warning look.

“We’re doing a⁠—”

“Drop it,” Grady says, but Veego keeps going.

“—Sunnyville fireman calendar shoot. The beefcake kind,” he says with a wink, and the flush to his cheeks makes me smile. Marcy’s relevance to the conversation suddenly makes sense. “It’s to raise money for the fireman’s widow fund. Pretty-boy Malone here refuses to be the month of August when he’s the best looking of the ugly lot of us. Too bad that shiner will be gone by the time we shoot the photos though or else I’m sure that would just add to his bad-boy vibe the ladies will get all wet over⁠—”

“It’s a dead issue,” Grady says again, cutting me off when I begin to speak. “Is that what Bowie called me in early for? To have a meeting on this bullshit?”

I may be confused as to what he’s referring to, but I see the panic flicker through Veego’s eyes just as easily as Grady does. Whatever Grady is referring to has nothing to do with the calendar and everything to do with something that’s brought an unwelcome chill to the conversation.

“Fuck this,” Grady says as he shakes his head. “Not now. Of all times, not now.”

I’m in the dark as to what’s going on, but the emotion that flows in the look the two men share is overwhelming. One defiant, and the other resolute.

“Grady . . .”

“C’mon, Dylan.”

“You can’t hide forever, Malone.” Veego’s voice is full of compassion, and a part of me feels like I should shrink into the shadows and give them privacy.

“I’m not hiding from shit. I’m walking Dylan to my truck. Figure out how not to make this happen or else I’m heading home with her.”

They glare at each other again.

“See you in a few,” Veego says, grief I don’t understand heavy in his voice. He turns to me. “Nice to meet you, Dylan.”

Grady is silent as we head out of the bay and toward the parking lot. I’m not sure what to say, I’m not even sure what just transpired, and yet, I feel on edge as I figure out how to handle this.

“I might be overstepping . . . but why are you so upset about the calendar?” I realize the answer the minute the question passes over my lips—his burns.

“There’s no way I’m going to stand there and let people stare at me. The calendar idea is crap.”