She responds instantaneously. Why? Did you see something on the news?
Gotta cover somehow … but how? Inspiration strikes and I reply, No. I found a grocery bag with magazines and toilet paper in my car. As that one zips away, I follow up with, I’ll keep the TP, but don’t find guns, trucks, or tattooed women attractive.
My desperate plan works. A few minutes later, she texts back. Ugh. Who was Jake with? Nelson?
Actually, yes.
Figures. He’ll probably just tell you to toss them. And there, under her words, a line of numbers that provide sweet relief to my panicked brain.
Once I get Catherine calmed down, I open a new message to Jake and stare at my tiny, blinking cursor. Now what? There is no way possible I can text him without sounding like a complete lunatic. Although, I think I may be acting like one, since I’ve put my phone down on the sofa and backed away from it like it’s some kind of feral animal.
Why should I text him anyway? Because when we hung out tonight we didn’t try to rip each other’s throats out for a change? Surely that’s the sign of a healthy relationship.
‘Hold on.’ I press my hands against my kitchen counter, room suddenly wobbling a bit. ‘Relationship?’
Is that what I want to have with Jake?
/> The kitchen linoleum is cool when I settle my butt more firmly into a seated position. This requires time to process.
‘I don’t want to be in a relationship,’ I say aloud. Even to my own ears, the protest sounds flimsy.
‘I don’t,’ I say again, trying to force some kind of conviction into the words.
I can’t want a relationship. Relationships destroy lives. They take individual freedom and smother it under the pretence of affection. Then they shatter and everyone gets damaged in the fallout. Besides, Jake and I already discussed this. He’s not looking for more and neither am I. My desire to somehow deserve him was nothing more than a biological imperative telling me to think that so I could have black-out-orgasm sex again.
‘I don’t need Jake Jacobs,’ I snarl, stalking toward the couch to pick up my phone.
It’s funny how painful texting a few words can be. Acting has taught me the nuance of words, the subtle messages that can be delivered without meaning to. At least texting makes it easier to say this. I don’t know if I could meet his eyes and utter the same words without giving up too much information.
I send the message quickly and shut off my phone. The news continues, warning that the smoke will hang over the town well into the morning. I shut it off and head to bed, turning off lights as I go. Once I’m under the covers, it’s easy to close my eyes. It’s harder to drift off, especially when worry eats at me over the fire, my message, and Jake’s reaction to it. But it had to be done. We’ve already gone too far. I hope I can stop us before the scarring begins.
Chapter 6
There’s no triumphant return to the station this time. We’re all too exhausted to waste precious energy like that and we’re hours over the end of our shift. Even though it’s two in the morning, we have to clean up and put away the gear, ensure the engines are ready to go out again if another call comes, and have our debrief meeting.
Captain Blake’s a stickler about debriefs. We all trudge our way into the kitchen and huddle around the coffee maker. Once the cups of the caffeinated sludge are given out, the captain gestures for us to take our seats.
‘I’m going to keep this short so you can get out of here,’ he announces after taking a long sip from his mug. ‘You did great out there tonight. It wasn’t an easy job on any level.’
‘How about the three we pulled from it?’ Ty asks.
Captain shakes his head. ‘The first two are in the hospital. They’re currently listed as critical.’
He hasn’t mentioned the third. Already, I know what he’s going to say. Cold sweeps over me, prickles working their way down my spine.
‘The third woman didn’t make it. They called it at the hospital.’ He looks from Ty to Jeff to me. ‘You did the best you could. I’m sorry it ended that way.’
The rest of the meeting is fuzzy. I don’t even realise it’s over until everyone around me starts to get up. Hands land on my shoulder as the rest of my crew leaves the room, heading toward the showers or the parking lot to head home. A few of the guys who are too exhausted go back toward the few empty bunks to fit in a quick nap before driving. I blink, eyes burning from a lack of sleep and the smoke from the fire, and try to force myself from the numbness that’s settling in.
Captain Blake sits down across from me and pushes over a bottle of ibuprofen. I swallow down some pills, washing it down with another mouthful of the foul brew in my cup.
‘I’m sorry she didn’t make it,’ he tells me.
I nod.
‘How’s your head?’
‘Sore. I’ll be fine before next shift.’