“‘Sounds good’ was your response to Dante asking if you wanted to quit being sergeant-at-arms in order to start a baking apprenticeship,” Heath said with a laugh. “You sure about that?”
I grimaced. “Okay, so maybe I wasn’t listening.”
“Morning, guys,” Mal said as he descended the clubhouse stairs. “Smells good, Dante, what’s baking?”
“Is it for us?” Nix asked as he hurried down on Mal’s heels, his square glasses falling down his broad nose in his haste.
Dante rolled his eyes. “Maybe, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Aw, come on.” Nix shot Heath a friendly smile as he wormed his way to the coffeemaker and fixed cups for both him and Mal. “What are we interrupting?”
“Tru was just ignoring us to daydream about Beau again,” Heath said.
“What?” I protested. “I was not daydreaming.”
“All right,” Dare said, “You were deeply lost in thought about Beau and completely stopped listening to us.”
“Ugh. I’m being ganged up on. This isn’t fair.” I sipped my coffee.
“Beau’s done some good work for us, though,” Mal said, easily ignoring the ribbing, as he was extremely used to it. “And Tru’s been handling a lot of the logistics.”
“Yeah, I wonder why,” Dare said sarcastically.
“Dante,” Mal said in a teasing, warning tone.
“Mal’s right,” I said. “Beau’s been out at the site pretty much every time I’ve been there. I’m sure he could’ve pawned some of that work off on someone else. Nice that he’s invested.”
“It’s his job,” Heath said.
“No, I think Tru is right,” Nix said.
I fist-pumped.
Nix ignored me. “Now that the investigation’s finally over, and construction is starting, maybe we should say thanks to the guys at the fire station? Send them some scones or something?”
“I did make a lot,” Dare said.
Mal nodded. “Not a bad idea. It’s good for us to keep a positive relationship with the first responders, too. What do you think, Dante?”
Dare nodded. “I don’t see any reason why not.” The timer went off, and Dare pulled a baking sheet of scones out of the oven. They looked amazing, golden-brown and dotted with fat blackberries. “I can pack up some of these once they’re cool.”
“Oh, no,” Nix lamented as he stared at the scones. “That’s not what I wanted.”
“Spoke too soon, Nix,” I said through a laugh. Mornings like this always made me happy—the brotherhood and camaraderie of the Crew was the reason I’d stuck around so long, and the reason the club was still going strong despite its small numbers. We were a family.
Heath laughed and moved a few scones from the baking sheet to the plate, touching them swiftly as to not burn his fingers. “Here, I’ll set a few aside for us.”
“It’s not enough,” Nix said despairingly.
I propped my chin in my hand where I was leaning my elbow on the kitchen island. No matter how many of Dare’s baked goods Nix tried, he acted like he’d never tasted one in his life and he’d never get another one. Dare’s baking was just that good.
But it was also a good idea—the fire department had done a lot for us, and a little show of goodwill could go a long way. Especially now that we’d patched into Hell’s Ankhor. Would that change our reputation in Junee? We were known for being the established, small, local club. What if people were less accepting of us with a bigger club’s name on our back?
“You gonna take them over there, Dante?” Mal asked.
Dare caught my eye and grinned. “Nah, my schedule’s busy today.” He swung his arm around Heath’s waist again. “Tru, do you have time to drop some scones off at the fire station?”
I grinned and stood up from the kitchen island. “Yeah, I think I can make that work.”
“Don’t look too eager,” Mal said warmly.
I shrugged. “What? I’m off duty today. Seems like a good use of my time to go see what our buddy Beau is up to.”
“That is not the reason you’re going,” Nix said as he pilfered one of the still-cooling scones off the plate. “Don’t annoy him too much, we need him to like us.”
“Sorry, when have I ever annoyed anyone?” I asked.
Everyone began talking at once, a cacophony of voices that all blended together as they answered that absolutely rhetorical question. I cackled and waved them all off in order to rush up the stairs to my room. If I was going to show my face at the firehouse, I needed to make sure I looked good.
2
Beau
“She’s just a lovely young woman,” Mom said over the phone. “I know her mother from bridge club, she’s a graduate student in public health, smart, pretty—and apparently wants to settle down.”
I sighed and adjusted my cell phone where I was holding it between my ear and my shoulder. I was clearing out my emails in my office at the fire station as I listened to Mom describe the woman—apparently Mom thought she was a great candidate to be my date to my younger sister Anna’s wedding. Anna was insistent that I bring a plus-one; apparently she’d included it in the seating chart for the dinner, and having an empty seat next to me just wouldn’t do.
“Mom.”
“Now, I’m not asking you to fall in love with her or anything”—I rolled my eyes at Mom’s tone, because it was obvious she was hoping for that, as she’d made clear many times before—“but just meet her for a coffee, will you?”
Mom meant well. She just wanted me to meet someone and be happy, the same as Anna had. And I knew she thought thirty-eight was way too old to be single. She’d been devastated when my ex-wife, Nora, and I split, and sometimes I thought Mom still hadn’t gotten over it, even though it had happened nearly two decades ago. Mom still thought my being gay was a phase, and I just needed to meet the right woman to change my mind.
“My schedule’s pretty full, Mom.”
Think of the devil, Nora rapped her knuckles on the door to my office, and then stuck her head inside. I gestured at the phone tucked against my shoulder and mouthed ‘Mom.’
Nora nodded, a grin spreading across her face. ‘Wedding again?’ she mouthed back.
I nodded, and Nora laughed silently. She slipped into my office and leaned against the edge of my desk like this whole conversation was a spectator sport. Even in her fire station uniform, she was radiant, six months into her third pregnancy. Her olive skin glowed, and she wore her thick dark hair in a low bun.
I was lucky to have Nora as my second-in-command at the station. We’d been married for two rough years, right out of high school, supporting each other through fire training, and I’d tried to make it work. I really had. I loved her dearly, always had, but eventually I’d had to admit to myself that I only loved her as a friend. The divorce had been tough on us both, but we’d come out the other side as even stronger friends. She was remarried now, and a mom of two boys and a third kid on the way.