“If you can’t save the office, at least go get my computer!” he said.
“Get back. Civilians need to be back at least thirty feet. I don’t care if it’s your building. It’s my fire. I won’t have civilians injured. And I am now risking one of my men for your computer. Learn to back up your shit, Johnny. I’ve got to make sure this doesn’t spread to any other businesses. Go!”
Jake escorted Johnny back behind the barricade the cops were putting up for us. He tried to argue, but Jake just laughed at him. People had no idea how serious fires could get. I’d seen people try to run back inside a burning building for things they wanted to save. Not people. Not pets. Just stuff. Their baseball cards or wedding china or yearbooks—some crap that can be replaced or let go. Stuff that isn’t worth a human life. I respected the chief for the way he handled it. He put a premium on the lives of his crew, and he was matter-of-fact about it with the residents or owners.
Once we knew there were no occupants at risk, we moved in expert
formation according to his orders. We all knew the protocol on an unoccupied structure. Secure the premises. Contain the blaze. Extinguish the source. I was focused, one with my team. Now that I knew Sarah Jo was safe. I had never been so single-minded before, so focused on something other than the job that lay ahead of me. It was comforting to slip into the familiar routine, to take my place in the lineup and do what had to be done.
It was easy to let myself forget that I’d revealed our secret right out in the open. That I’d run to her, embraced her, kissed her in front of dozens of people. All of whom knew both our families, who knew Ryan and would make sure he heard all about it before the sun went down.
21
Sarah Jo
The cops had dispersed the crowd not long after the blaze was contained. I was cleared to enter the office long enough to get my stuff and close the place for the rest of the day. I headed home early, exhausted. I took the longest shower, just trying to get the residue and smoke off of me. No one had been hurt. Most of the building had been preserved. Even Johnny’s precious office had been saved. The store would be closed for a few weeks for cleanup and repairs. I made a note after my shower to order heavy on the hardware supplies this week. I’d need to keep a small stock of hand tools and a selection of home repair and basic plumbing parts to make up for the absence of the local hardware store’s inventory. We could see a boost in sales as a result, and I’d pass some of that along to the Mason’s by donating to the chili supper that the Methodist church was arranging as a benefit for them. God knew Lucy Mason could use the help, with a new baby and a stupid husband whose store burned partly down. I didn’t envy her that maternity leave—it would be a tough call whose whining was worse, a newborn’s or Johnny Mason’s.
I toweled off my hair and added items to my list. I had already reassured my dad that the yard hadn’t been harmed at all. So when I heard the back screen door open with the force of almost being torn off its hinges, I knew it had to be my brother. No one else made an entrance quite like him. He had heard about Luke and me, and he was going to be pissed off. I threw a robe on over my pj’s and braced myself as I went downstairs.
“Hey, Ryan. You’re off work early. What is it? Four?” I said with fake cheerfulness.
“How could you do this to me?” he demanded much too loudly for the confines of the small kitchen.
“Do what to you?” I said as if I didn’t know.
“You’re fucking my best friend.”
“I should slap your mouth for saying that word in my mama’s kitchen,” I said hotly. “She’d feed you a bar of Ivory soap if she was here.”
“What do you think she’d do to you to know you’re screwing Luke?” he countered.
“Excuse me, Ryan Christopher Winters,” I said, hands on my hips. “Don’t you even try that bullshit on me.”
“Now who’s cussing in Mama’s kitchen?” he taunted, “You come in here and move into the house. You take over the business. You take over everything with Dad. I’m just supposed to step aside. It’s fine. Take everything. Take my best friend while you’re at it. Maybe you’ll rob the bank where I work next,” he ranted.
“You can’t be serious. I mean, I knew you were selfish, but it’s a stretch even for you. When I got here you weren’t doing anything. Not for Dad. Not with the lumberyard. You were just feeling sorry for yourself about Whitney and whining to everybody you saw. That’s not taking over your life. That’s taking some responsibility. So let’s unpack this, Ryan. You were doing jack shit for anyone but yourself. So I stepped in. I did everything. So you could keep on feeling sorry for yourself. And now you’re convinced that me being involved with Luke is somehow about you. Spoiler alert, Ryan. NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU!” I shouted, my hands clenched in fists. “I am a goddamn adult and I can see who I want to see and you can’t say shit about it. Now if you intend to continue to insult me, you can get the fuck out!”