Page 62 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
“Don’t do this . . .” He shakes his head, confusion welling in his eyes.
“Do what? Tell you that the camera is going to love you? That it’s going to be looking at your front and not your back, so what’s the big deal? And if it were snapping a picture of your back, you know what it would show? A man who went to hell and back to try to save his friend. I don’t know a single person who would think otherwise.”
“First the guys, and now you? You were the one person I didn’t have to worry about piling on with the bullshit.”
I can see the bluster in his bravado and know he’s afraid to see himself as he looks now. He’s afraid to document it for everyone else to see.
“The guys just want what’s best for you, like I do.”
“Like you do?” His voice rises in pitch as he takes a step toward me, shoulders squared. “What do you think this is? We screwed so that gives you the right to tell me what to do?
His words are sharp, but the fear in his eyes is sharper. There’s something more here. There’s something he isn’t talking about.
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“That’s who I am, Dylan. An asshole. If you’ve got a problem, feel free to stay with someone else. I’m sure Jett’s ready to whisk you back home and start right where you left off.” The minute the words are out, he hangs his head and scrunches his face. He groans before looking up and meeting my eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. There’s just . . . there are other things going on here besides the calendar.”
The phone call from the other night when I was making the cannoli comes to mind. The one about a meeting on Thursday, which is apparently a lot more important than it sounded.
I scramble with what to say. With how to dissipate his anger, his fear, his irritation, all of which I helped cause.
Humor. Humor always works best.
“Is this our first fight as a couple?” I ask, a ghost of a smile on my lips and a plea for forgiveness in my eyes.
He struggles with the shift in gears before saying, “Yep. Jett’s leaving, and we’re already breaking up.” His smile is half-hearted, but his expression says he’s still upset.
I wish I knew about what.
“Well, shit.” I put my hands on my hips. “I think we’ve got this all backward.”
A little more sincerity edges his smile now. “Mmm. We had make-up sex before the fight.”
“We did.” Is it weird that he understands where I’m going with this conversation without any further explanation? Is it weird that it gives me hope?
We stare at each other, smiles soft and apologies unspoken but accepted.
“You should get going. My shift’s about to start.” I’m taken by surprise when he holds his keys out to me. A man and his truck are a sacred thing. “I’ll call you tomorrow to pick me up if that’s okay. If not, I’ll have one of the guys drop me home.”
“I’ll come get you. No biggie.” I open the driver’s side door, climb behind the wheel, and then look at him. He still seems unsettled, and I wish I could help with whatever is bothering him. “You know I’m here for you if you need me, right?”
“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.
“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?”
