Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“I’m not going.”
I blinked then quickly maneuvered myself to face him.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, pressing my belly to his.
I could feel the wetness between us, but he didn’t seem to care.
So I didn’t either.
“Just what I said,” he replied tersely, his eyes snapping with fire. “I’m not going.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“How about you check the attitude,” I said. “I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
He swallowed and sighed, looking down as he did.
“You have to go. He wouldn’t want you not to go just because he can’t. Give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ll be there,” I said softly.
His shoulders stiffened, and he looked up at me.
“You’re good for me, you know that?” He asked.
I smiled.
“You’re good for me, too.”
I got up and smacked him on the knee.
“Now, get going or you’ll be late.”
Chapter 21
My give-a-fuck is all fucked up.
-Tai to Jack
Tai
I can’t find his ring.
That statement echoed in my head, over and over again, bouncing this way and that.
It’d been two days since Aaron’s horrific accident. Two long days of realizing his condition was so grave, we weren’t sure if he was gonna make it.
So far, though, he was fighting.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” PD said, staring at Fatbaby’s now empty locker. “I still feel like he’s going to walk through that door and start moaning about his wife.”
“Yesterday was terrible,” Bowe said. “As I was running that course, I kept thinking about how Fatbaby and I would always finish within a couple seconds of each other.”
They did.
Fatbaby was a fast motherfucker, and it was rare that he ever finished the course in anything but first place.
Bowe was fast, too. But that’s expected when one had long legs like he did.
Yesterday had been beyond bad.
In fact, it was on the verge of being an epic failure on our part. Not a one of us finished first.
We’d finished, but judging by the times we’d each logged, it was clearly evident that we should’ve taken Luke up on his offer to postpone.
Luke looked at us, giving us all a once over.
Each of us had dark circles under our eyes, the worry for our friend and colleague etched plainly in all of our exhausted, grim-faced expressions.
“Y’all passed,” Luke said.
I didn’t say a word, and neither did any of the men at my side.
PD, Bowe, Drew and I were all standing shoulder-to-shoulder as we leaned against the brick wall of the firehouse.
It was no surprise that we passed.
None of us had been able to give a hundred percent, though.
“So what does that mean?” Bowe finally asked, trying to act somewhat interested.
“It means,” Luke said. “That as soon as we can, we’ll get y’all enrolled in the police academy’s online program. Once you pass the coursework, then we’ll get you the on-site training hours you’ll need to complete during y’all’s days off. When that’s done, we can get you sworn in, and you can start.”
“How long does all of that usually take?” I asked.
I don’t know if my heart was in it at the moment, but I needed to ask the questions. I needed to at least act like I was interested.
“Couple months, three, tops,” he said.
“Hmm,” I said.
Luke was speaking, but none of us were really taking in what he was saying
“Let’s talk about this next week. After...” he hesitated. “Once we have a better idea of Fatbaby’s condition.”
We all nodded, and he shook each of our hands, one-by-one, before he left.
I can’t find his ring.
I looked at my hand, wondering if the boys would do the same thing for Mia if something like this had happened to me, and I knew what I had to do.
Not that we were married yet, but we were heading in that direction.
I couldn’t see myself without her, and that was marriage. and with a woman like Mia, marriage was the next logical step.
“Boys,” I said. “Let’s go find that ring.”
***
Ninety minutes later, four fire fighters and about fifteen civilian passers-by were all down on their hands and knees looking for the ring that we knew Fatbaby wore on every shift, even though he knew it was a huge safety hazard.
“Sir,” a reporter asked. “Would you mind telling us what you’re doing?”
I looked over at the reporter I’d seen after yesterday’s accident and sighed.
She was the same one that was writing all the articles about us and publishing them without our consent.
Sitting up on my haunches from where I’d been digging in the tall grass, I explained.
“Yesterday, a fellow firefighter, Aaron Sims, was struck by a vehicle here at this intersection.” I pointed to the road. “He was thrown in this direction, and we’re looking for a ring that might, or might not have, fallen off somewhere in this location.”
“How about a metal detector?” A man called from the crowd.
I looked over at him.