Page 65 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
If whiplash were possible, I’d have it from the breakneck speed I turn to look at my dad. “We aren’t even . . .”
Aren’t what? We aren’t dating but we’re fucking?
Classy, especially after I was just talking about respect and women.
“Grandbabies aren’t in the future.”
“But you like her.” It isn’t a question. Just a statement.
I chew the answer on my tongue before nodding. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”
“You got in a fight for her, Grady. That means she’s more than pretty cool in your eyes. In fact, it says you more than like her.”
“Seriously?” I laugh, feeling like I’m on the playground bickering with a classmate.
“A songwriter, you say?” he asks, switching gears like the seasoned interrogator he used to be.
“I didn’t say what she did.” He has definitely been talking to my brothers. “But yes, she’s a songwriter.”
“Does she sing too?”
I think of her voice. How it’s throaty and sexy with that hint of rasp to it when she sings. “Yeah. She has a great voice.”
“So is she going to transition to singing for herself instead of hiding behind the scenes?”
Let the cross-examination begin.
I know my dad, and right now he’s angling at something. “No,” I respond as we turn down my street. “I keep telling her she has a hell of a talent, and it’s too bad she isn’t putting it to use.”
My dad pulls up to the curb in front of my house and looks at me for a beat. “Kind of like you.”
“What?” My fingers tense on the door handle.
“You have a hell of a firefighting talent.” He shrugs. “Too bad you aren’t putting it to use.”
Trigger pulled. Point made.
I stare at him, wanting to lash out but knowing it will do no good. Being the ex-chief of police, his ties run deep in this community. Someone at the fire department talked to him. Someone voiced his concern. Without me saying a word, he knows I haven’t been back into a fire since the accident.
“I know. It’s a rough time of year for me.” I slide from the car, wanting this conversation to be over and done with.
“Hey, Grady?”
I lean down and meet his eyes. “Yeah, Dad?”
“It’s okay to forget what hurt you, but just remember to never forget what it taught you.”
“What did it teach me, other than to fear the one thing I love?”
“Fear has two meanings, son. Forget everything and run. Or face everything and rise.” He gives me a soft smile as I try to process what he just said. “You’ve been doing the first for a while. That’s understandable. It’s been a long road, and a part of me wants to tell you to run forever and not look back, because I almost lost you once. That’s the safe bet. But that isn’t you. That isn’t the son I know. You’d die without being able to do your first love, fighting fires. So now? Now you take it day by day, call by call, nightmare by nightmare . . . but you face everything about it and rise.”
I nod as he starts the car and drives off without another word. I watch his car until I can’t see the taillights and then stare after it a bit more.
Face everything and rise.
My dad’s words ring in my head as I walk in the house, their poignancy hitting closer to home than I want to admit. It’s too much for me to think about.
