Don't Date Your Brother's Best Friend

Afterward, I cuddled in his lap on the recliner and traced the outlines of his muscles with the tip of my finger. I looked up at him and saw that he was staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m in love with you, Sarah Jo. I don’t care what anyone thinks about it, as long as you don’t mind.”

“Luke,” I said, breathless. I didn’t react, didn’t speak for a moment. He loved me. Really loved me, that way. The way I’d loved him for seven years. I buried my face in his shoulder and held on tight. We were naked in the recliner. It wasn’t exactly rose petals and candlelight. But it was real. I felt it deep down. He kissed my hair, my temple, my forehead, “I have you, Sarah Jo. No matter what else happens, let’s just promise we won’t let it touch us. No matter how anyone reacts. We’re in this for us, not for them or their approval. Promise me.”

I felt the intensity of his gaze, the urgency in his voice. I wanted to say yes, but too much was at stake. So I kissed him instead of making promises.

20

Luke

I had just finished the schedule for the week at Cecil’s. My mom usually handled assigning shifts and hours, but I set up the crews for the week to help out while she got ready for her class reunion. Apparently, that required highlights and a pedicure. She had described her dress in detail—it had come from Nordstrom in the mail, and the blue exactly matched her eyes. I zoned out a little when she talked about the fabric, but I did agree to do the schedule, so she had more time for herself that week.

We were in the after-lunch lull. The dishes were done, the kitchen helpers were starting to do prep for suppertime, and I heard the scanner go off. Looking up from the computer, I listened. It wasn’t my shift at the fire station, but I always lent a hand if I heard a fire call and was available. This one was a structure fire on Sycamore Street down at the south end. Mason’s Hardware. It was next to the lumberyard. I yelled from the office that I was leaving for a while to see about a fire. I told the cook to call in Elsie to be the manager on duty. I was on my way less than a minute from the time I heard the scanner pick up the call.

Part of me was calm, as I always was in a crisis when my training kicked in. The rest of me was screaming that Sarah Jo could not be caught in that fire, that not one hair on her head could be endangered. Please not her, please not her, I muttered to myself as I drove the few blocks to the spot where smoke belched dark into the blue afternoon sky. The old Mason’s building was burning, and I was out of my truck almost before I had it shifted into park. I had to get to her. Not to the fire, not to my brother firefighters, but to my woman. To Sarah Jo. To make sure she was safe. To make sure the fire hadn’t spread over to the tinder box that was the Winters’ lumberyard.

Out on the sidewalk a little ways down the block, a knot of workers stood out in the ashy wind. There, with her cardigan pulled up to her face to shield it from smoke was Sarah Jo. I saw her before she saw me. Her eyes were on the fire, on the uniformed men hooking up the hose from the water truck.

“Sarah Jo!” I called. Even over the crack of flames and the noise of the firemen, she heard me and looked up.

She ran to me. I caught her in my arms and held her close, lifted her off her feet.

“Thank God, thank God,” I murmured into her hair, kissing her a hundred times, her smoky hair, her ear, her face, her lips. I held her so close, kissed her lips, let the relief flow through me. She was crying, clinging to me. She was okay, she was unhurt. I told her to stay out there away from the blaze, don’t go back into the lumberyard for anything in case burning debris fell from this building onto the property. She promised, and then I grabbed her and hugged her tight again just because I could. Because she was mine, because I was grateful she was whole and safe.

I turned and joined the men, getting equipment out of the truck and putting it on so I could lend a hand. The chief shouted instructions, and Johnny Mason kept trying to interfere. He marched up to the chief and announced that we had to keep the flames away from his office because his bookkeeping wasn’t backed up, his wife was supposed to keep it backed up to the cloud, but she was on maternity leave.