Page 115 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
“You aren’t going to, Grady. I know you won’t. You’ve changed so much since I’ve met you. You’ve grown. You’ve faced your fears. You’ve realized—”
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can. I have faith in you.” And then my synapses fire all at the same time and my thoughts align. “Grady, we made a deal.”
“Yeah?” He sounds distracted.
“I fulfilled my end of it. That’s why I’m calling you. I wanted to tell you I did it.”
“Did what?”
“I sang a song. For me. The label wants to record it and release it as a single.”
“You did?” There is so much pride in his voice, and in lieu of what he’s facing now, I almost feel guilty for talking about me. But I have a reason. “You actually went into the label and asked for studio time and recorded a song for yourself?”
“Yes.” The white lie rolls off my tongue. My need to give him encouragement is more important than the semantics of how it all went down.
“God. I’m so proud of you, Dyl. You did it. You really did it.”
“And I know you can do it, too.” I wipe the tear away that slips down my cheek. “This is what you love more than anything, Grady. Your job. Your calling. This is the last step you need to take to get back to the new and improved Grady Malone.”
“I wasn’t aware I needed improving.” His chuckle this time is warmer.
“I’m a fan of you however you are.”
“Malone. Gear up. We’re heading out in five,” a voice calls in the background, and I want to beg for just one more minute.
“You gotta go.”
“I’ve gotta go.” He sighs.
“Be safe, Malone.”
“Always.” I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince more, himself or me.
“Grady.” I’m not sure why I say his name, but I can’t let him go just yet.
I miss you.
Come back to me.
I love you.
“Two-in. Two-out. Promise me that.”
“Two-in. Two-out,” he murmurs. “When this is over, McCoy, you and I need to have a talk.”
And then, before I can say another word, before I can tell him I agree, the call drops.
“If this shit was easy, Malone, everyone would do it.”
I look at Veego as the rig we’re on bumps and jostles while it heads up the mountain. The fire rages on the ridge in front of us. She’s a mean, nasty bitch, consuming every piece of brush she can find. The wind serving to add gasoline to her fury.
I don’t respond other than a nod because I don’t have the words. How can I when I’ve spent every call, every minute, scared of the one thing that makes me feel alive. Putting out fires.
My fea
r and my salvation are one in the same.
