Page 8 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
Silence eats up the discord between us. “You’re right. I’m sorry . . . I know you still love him, and I know you still have to work with him, so please promise me you won’t fall for his shit again.”
I think of Grady’s comment about the heart versus the head and grit my teeth, hating that he’s pegging me as the helpless female. “My life. My choices.” There’s a bite to my tone he doesn’t deserve, and yet, it’s still there.
“I know . . . I just . . .”
“I’m not sixteen anymore, Damon. Heartbreak is a thing, and it’s part of life. You can’t protect me from it or go around punching guys to prevent it.”
“You know I would if I could.” There’s softness in his tone. A resignation that his defiant little sister is going to do what she wants regardless of his big brotherly warnings against it. “Are you getting settled in?”
“Were you going to warn me that Grady is a manwhore or is that part of the man code not to?”
“Grady is Grady.” I can see him shrugging as he opens his mouth and closes it to try to make up a better excuse even though he knows it won’t work with me. “He’s a good guy. I wouldn’t have let you stay there if he wasn’t. Wait . . . tell me he isn’t being a dick?”
“No.” I think of everything I’ve learned about him so far. The funny. The sweet. The perpetually cheerful. The total guy part. “He’s just unexpected.
”
“He’s had a rough go of it lately, so let me know if he’s being an ass, and I’ll put him in his place.”
“What do you mean he’s had a rough go of it?”
“Almost two years ago he . . . you know what, never mind. It isn’t anything other than knowing he’s not your type, and he’s not the staying kind because of it. It makes me breathe easier as a big brother, knowing nothing will be happening between the two of you.”
“I’m a grown woman, Damon. I’m more than capable of deciding whom I do or don’t sleep with . . . so tell me again, what’s going on with him?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
But I don’t buy it. I find it hard to believe the man who hasn’t been anything but happy and welcoming is having a hard time.
I hear cries beginning in the background and smile when I think of my brother being a dad—to twins no less.
“I’ve got to go . . . Tessa is starting up.”
“Give her a kiss for me.”
“Hey, Dyl? I know you like to be left alone while you work, which is why I figured Grady’s place would be perfect for you, but don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.”
I end the call and wander through the house aimlessly. It’s decorated in warm colors with the sparseness that bespeaks of a single male living here. There are touches of his personality here and there in pictures of who I can assume by resemblance are his family or his brothers at the fire station, but it’s missing that feminine touch. There are rugs on the hardwood floor but there are no random tchotchkes cluttering the space. No throws on the back of the couch to add a touch of color. No candles half-burned on holders.
And yet while it is void of those little touches, Grady’s house still screams comfort to me. It feels like a place anyone can walk into and feel at ease.
I run my hand along the back of the brown leather couch as the squelch of the scanner becomes background noise I don’t think I’ll ever quite be comfortable with.
It’s the view that pulls me to the kitchen window. Past the fenced-in backyard where the half-built shed is on one side of the yard and a small covered patio with a fireplace is on the other. There are acres and acres of fields with grapevines growing. Their rows line the hills and their stakes make an optical illusion I stare at for some time, lost until the parachutes in the far distance near where I saw the airport on my drive into town catch my attention. Then I notice the space. Wide-open space without high-rises, or neighbors nearby, or the constant sounds of the city.
It’s beautiful. It’s foreign.
I stare as the tears burn my eyes and the emotions I continue to bury try to fight their way to the surface.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I yelp when something wet and warm hits the back of my leg.
What the hell?
When I whip around, I’m met with the ugliest, cutest thing I have ever seen. All fifty-or-so pounds of her.
The pig is whitish-pink with black spots. She has a fine layer of wiry hair coating her skin, and her pink snout is wet and quivering as she sniffs the air.
