Page 64 of Worth the Fight

“Yeah.” He nods ever so slightly and looks at his boots for a second before looking up to me. His aqua eyes a sea of discord. “I do. Thanks.”

And with that, Grady walks into the fire station with what looks like the weight of the world on his shoulders and a tiny piece of my heart in his pocket.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

GRADY

“What’s the deal?” I ask with major attitude the minute I walk into the common area.

Veego, Bowie, Dixon, and Mack are all sitting around the table with somber expressions on their faces. Their eyes all flicker to each other while they wait for Bowie, the highest in command, to speak first.

“Take a seat,” Bowie says and kicks a chair out for me. I grit my teeth and refuse to sit when he motions to it. I’m pretty sure I need to remain standing for this one.

“Please tell me this isn’t about the goddamn calendar.” Dylan’s words outside resonate in my head. Make me feel even guiltier that I’m not willing to strip my shirt off to help Brody and Shelby.

Shit.

I don’t have a choice, do I?

“Because if it is, I’ll do the fucking thing. You happy?” I throw my hands up. “Can I go now? Class dismissed?”

I know I’m being an asshole, but a confrontation is the last thing I need right now. I have the memory of Dylan in my bed and the reality of Shelby’s request in my head. The one she called me about earlier that I can’t quite wrap my head around how I’m going to be able to do it and not lose it myself. Talk about the highest high to a heartbreaking low.

“The calendar’s a good start, but it’s the least important of what we need to talk about,” Veego says and looks toward Bowie to continue.

“We’re worried about you, Malone,” Bowie says matter-of-factly.

“What? Am I not pulling my weight around here? The rig’s clean. The grocery shopping is done. The⁠—”

“When’s the last time you were active on a call?” Mack speaks up and gets to the heart of the matter.

“I’m active on all calls.”

“Let me rephrase, when was the last time you were engaged on a call, Malone?” It’s Dixon’s calm voice that grates on my nerves and ignites my temper. “You know, walked into the fire beside us instead of stood there and watched us go at it alone.”

“Fucking Christ.”

“You were out six months. On desk duty for what? A year?” Bowie asks.

“Uh-huh,” I say void of all emotion and recall how miserable it was being a desk jockey while I waited for the medical doctors and the department psychologist to deem me physically and mentally fit to return. “And on active duty for six months. Your point is what exactly?”

“How many fires have you been engaged on?”

“There haven’t been many fires in Sunnyville since I’ve been off desk duty, so I couldn’t tell you.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Okay then, I’ll be a dumbass and ask the question you all seem to know but aren’t letting me in on. What the fuck is going on?”

“Can we trust you to be there?” Mack asks, and I can tell that having to ask that question makes all the guys uncomfortable.

“Can you trust me?” I blink as if it’s going to help me understand what they’re asking.

Trust is knowing your brother is there even when you can’t see him. Two-in. Two-out. No matter the cost.

I think of Drew saying those words to me. Of the two of us reciting them as we sat at a beach bonfire and polished off a six-pack. The tap of our beer bottles against one another’s. The promise made to always look out for each other.

And with the memory comes the anger at the rest of the guys looking at me. The disbelief that they’re questioning me.