Page 64 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
I swallow my pride and anger and take a deep breath in an attempt to dial back the emotions eating me whole. “Thank you for your concern. Thank you for caring. Thank you for giving me time.”
My eyes sting as I walk from the common area to the bunkroom. I don’t know how to work in a place that holds all the incredible memories I never want to forget but can’t bear to be reminded of.
How do I live a life that does exactly that?
How do I move forward when I’m terrified the past will repeat itself?
“Where’s your truck?”
I climb into the passenger seat and glance over at my dad. “Dylan has it.”
“Dylan? Why would you let that musician-creep drive it?”
I laugh harder than I should as he pulls away from the station. “Dylan is the girl staying with me. Remember Damon McCoy from that sleep-away football camp you sent me to when I was in high school? She’s his sister.”
“Oh.”
“The musician-creep is Jett.”
“Jett? As in like an airplane type of jet?”
“Exactly.”
“It’s easy to confuse your old man,” he says with a laugh but then falls silent as he slides a look my way.
Christ. Not again.
“Who talked to you?” I sigh. First the guys at the start of shift yesterday and now him.
“No one.” But his lack of explanation as to what I’m referring to is an answer in and of itself. “I heard you got in a fight the other night with the Winters kid.”
The Winters kid. I feel like I’m back in grade school again the way he says it.
“The fucker deserved it.”
“Grady—”
“He disrespected Dylan, so don’t give me a lecture on how fists don’t solve problems. I get it. I know better. I’m not twelve anymore, and I didn’t pledge my life to upholding the law. But this time around, he deserved it. You don’t brag about sleeping with a woman when you didn’t and then say rude shit to disrespect her.” There’s more anger in my tone than there should be, but I’m so sick and tired of being pushed right now.
I look over to my dad to see his lips pursed. It’s his tell when he has a shitload to say but is holding back.
“And this Dylan woman,” he finally says, “what did she think of you protecting her honor?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Hmm.” He nods but gives nothing more on the subject. “You’ve missed the last couple of Sunday dinners. You know what that does to your mom. Maybe you should bring this Dylan around the house sometime since it seems you don’t want to leave her.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to leave her. It’s that I’ve been on shift. And bringing Dylan to the house would only encourage Mom’s matchmaking you-should-marry-this-girl-and-give-me-grandbabies frenzy. No thanks.”
“She means well.” After forty years, there is still affection in his voice every time he speaks of her.
“I know she does.”
“So are you?”
I’m pretty sure I choke on the air I’m breathing. “Am I what?”
“Are you going to marry this girl and give us grandbabies?”
