I stood too and dropped my dishes into the dishwasher before Liam did it. “G’night boys. Good work tonight,” I said as I headed for the bunk rooms.
I lay down, but the thoughts running through my head wouldn’t let me sleep. I kept picturing the woman’s face as she watched Liam carry her husband safely away from their burning house. Like he had her entire world in his arms. I should’ve been filled with satisfaction that I’d helped give them that, and I was, but for some reason, it also left me unsettled.
This job, saving lives, the good men I worked with…it was everything I’d always dreamed of. All I’d ever wanted. In the magical kind of way that you always hope for but rarely get, being a firefighter was everything I imagined it would be.
But I’d left more than enough destruction and other people’s shattered dreams in my wake. I’d upended my entire life to be a firefighter; even ended my marriage over it. The least I could do was be satisfied with what I had, and I usually was. It was selfish of me to want more, but I couldn’t help it.
Lying in bed with the sounds of the station muted in the background, I couldn’t help but wonder…would I ever find love like that?
2
Juliette
“Where are you dragging us?”
“Nolan’s. A bar. A place people go to socialize and have fun.” Nicky rolled her eyes at Jenna and me.
I would’ve made a face back, but applying mascara required my undivided attention, lest I ended up with it halfway down my face, or worse, inmy eye.
“And why are we going?” Jenna asked.
“Just a quick happy hour for my colleague’s birthday. I need you guys because I don’t know them well, and you’re more fun than anyone else who’ll be there.”
I had to stop working on my makeup for a long moment to laugh at that.
Jenna and I were the least likely people to be a good time at a bar. Jenna wouldn’t venture far from our sides, but at least she could make small talk, while I was unlikely to talk to anyone. Outof the three of us, Nicky was by far the life of the party, not that the bar was set very high.
“Stop it. That wasn’t funny. You guys are my best friends, and you’re lots of fun.”
“Just not in a bar,” Jenna said.
“Or with new people,” I added.
“Not true! I love you girls, and I love you even more for coming.”
An hour later,I was squished into a booth at Nolan’s with Nicky, Jenna, and five of Nicky’s colleagues, and I was having a surprisingly good time.
Bars aren’t my scene. I have dyspraxia, which basically means I’m an uncoordinated mess.
Having dyspraxia is like having the messages from my brain go through a twisty slide on their way down to my body, with an extra spiral tacked on specifically for my speech. Sometimes those messages make it through the way they’re supposed to, and sometimes everything gets jumbled. By the time words come out of my mouth, they don’t always resemble what was in my mind. They take on a life of their own: slurring together, skipping sounds, and mixing up simple words, often jamming up in that damn slide then coming out in one big rush.
The more nervous I get, the twistier that slide feels.
It’s hard for me to talk when it’s loud or if I’m with more than a couple of people. If I’m distracted or nervous, I’m likely to spill my drink or have half of it dribble down my chin when I take a sip. Anything could go wrong.
But this evening was turning out great. I was uneasy at first, but Nicky’s friends were welcoming, and I actually knew two of them. Except for Jenna, we were all occupational therapists, so it wasn’t surprising. I worked in a special education school,and they worked for a home care agency, but there was some overlap. I even loved the bar. With its dark wood tones, sunlight shimmering through the stained-glass windows, and classic folk rock softly playing, it had an unexpected warm, cozy vibe.
I was talking to Nicky’s friend, Mel, about a physical therapist we’d both worked with, and I was so happy to be connecting and having a good time, I didn’t even care that we were talking about work. She was laughing at a story I’d just told—yay!—when her eyes drifted over my shoulder.
I’m well acquainted with the signs of someone who’s finished with the conversation. Maybe I hadn’t been as clear or interesting as I thought. I stumbled over my next words, trying to end the conversation quickly before Mel was forced to awkwardly excuse herself.
“Cole’s here!” she interrupted me to announce. “And he’s with all his hot firefighter friends!”
There went my easy time. At least I’d made a decent first impression while it was just us girls in a quiet booth. And she’d had a real reason for ending our conversation, not just because I’d somehow made it uncomfortable.
Nicky’s coworkers chattered excitedly about the sexy fireman Mel had hung out with a few times, and whom she clearly hoped to go home with again tonight, while Jenna and I quietly pasted on our smiles.
“Look at those muscles! Happy birthday to me!” the honoree of the night, whose name I forgot, said.