Page 8 of Scarred Trust

People were scrambling around, carrying things from one place to another, while the photographer and her assistants crouched in front of the stepped platform occupied by the captain, lieutenants, and all the firefighters. These would be the formal pictures for the city to acknowledge the fire department's immense contribution to the community. Once they finished the group shots, they would move on to individual firefighters in different scenes, poses, and videos.

Wes and I had made it a habit over the past few weeks to see each other in the early morning hours, when he finished his shift or neither of us could sleep. It had started as an easy, convenient routine. He would go for his run while I prepped food for the restaurant, while our sous-chef was still on paternity leave. When both of us finished, we would take walks to the park and watch the sunrise. Between sharing our dreams and searing kisses, our time together became the brightest part of my day that I couldn’t imagine living without.

Our intimate interactions were limited to first base, but that man could melt the lake in the dead of winter with one of his kisses. His scars ran deep, and I had promised I would wait for as long as he needed. I knew part of that was earning his trust. The other part was him letting me in.

I lagged in the background with the other observers, realizing how odd it felt to miss having our usual morning ritual. He had stayed at the firehouse after his shift to prepare for the photoshoot. I clutched a large box I hoped would make this day even more special for him before I switched to my official role. When they finished taking the group picture, I took a few steps forward. Wes’s eyes lit up when he saw me and pushed past his co-workers.

“Trina, you're here.” He pulled me into a side embrace to avoid the box and kissed my cheek. “The night shift is going first. I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

“Of course I’m here. I had to wish you a happy birthday.” Opening the lid, I showed him the cake I had spent the past couple of days working on.

“Just for me?” He looked like a little kid, opening his favorite present.

“I wanted today to be special, and making a cake was part of that.”

“Ooo, look who brought snacks,” one of Wes’s team came up behind him.

“Our brother’s got a girl on his birthday? This is a red letter day.” A female crewmember draped an arm around Wes’s shoulders.

“It even looks edible.” A firefighter, I recognized, swiped through the icing and licked his fingers.

“Knock it off. You only get a piece if you behave.” Wes pushed the reaching hands away.

“You know that’s not going to happen. What if we just sing to you?” Their captain joined in the frivolity. Waving his arms like a conductor, he got the room singing ‘Happy Birthday’.

With a crimson hue creeping up his face, Wes placed the cake on a nearby table. He escaped to a nearby corner with me in tow, where he kissed me thoroughly, like he was memorizing every dip and curve of my tongue. He was unrelenting until he heard his name called.

“There’ll be more of that later, I promise.” When he took a step back, his pupils were wide, with a sliver of green peeking from the edges.

“I’m counting on it.” I stayed ensconced, hidden away until I could look more presentable. He wiped the sides of his mouth and trotted back to the photographer.

When my face felt cooler, I smoothed down my hair and rejoined the other spectators against the wall.

“That’s great. Looking sexy. Let's open the jacket now.” The photographer, Dotty VanCam, was encouraging, and Wes seemed comfortable, even when she asked him to open up his jacket.

“Fantastic! Give me brooding. Like you’re trying to decide who to take home tonight.” His stare went right down my spine, setting me on fire again. He was so relaxed, he posed any way she directed. If she had asked him to stand on his head, he probably would have.

“That was smoldering. Let’s do it again, but lose the jacket.” I could see the shift in his expression from across the room.

“I’m not really comfortable with that. What if I just push it back a little?” Dotty ignored it for the moment and kept taking pictures of him.

“That’s great, but the jacket needs to go.” She put the camera down, making it clear she could wait him out.

“I can’t do that.” With his hands on his hips, he stood his ground.

“Yeah, well, we need a cohesive look, and this is screwing that up.” She gestured to an assistant who went to remove his jacket for him.

“I said ‘no’!” The room went still, everyone focused on what was unfolding. The other firefighters gathered around, ready to fight for their brother.

“Come on, handsome. You could be the cover, crushing hearts across the city.” Dotty’s voice was sweet and cajoling. “But if you can’t follow instructions, you might not even be in the calendar.” Her tone turned harsh.

“Miss Van Cam, I believe Mr. St. James has given you a definitive ‘no’ several times. We need to show our first responders the respect they deserve.” I felt like it was my responsibility to step in. Hearing her audible groan, I was ready for an argument.

“Miss Duffy. I’m sorry, but you hired me for a reason, and this guy is interfering with that.” When she turned and recognized who I was, she quickly stood up.

The fundraising coordinator, Amada Carter, scuttled over to join in the conversation. “Oh Miss Duffy, you’re here! We really appreciate Alderman Bullard and Stein’s continued support. We are so glad we can show you what a wonderful opportunity you’ve provided for us.” The young woman clearly didn’t know that ABS wasn’t just a sponsor. I didn’t think it was important to correct her, as long as she was treating the firefighters courteously.

“Alderman Bullard and Stein? Are you fucking kidding me?” The scoff came from behind me.