Page 3 of Fierce Family

It's been 5 years since my divorce went through and thank fuck it did. My life has been a hell of a lot better ever since. When Carol and I were married, my whole focus was on making sure she had a good life. We met right after college, moved in together pretty quickly, and tied the knot when I was twenty-eight. Back then, I was just a retained firefighter, juggling shifts with the fire brigade alongside my job as a baker in Fellside. Every penny I earned that wasn't spent on necessities went straight into saving up for a house. Eventually, I scraped together enough to buy us a lovely farmhouse on the outskirts of Fellside. That's when our troubles really began.

Carol wanted to move to a city—Manchester, Liverpool, or even down south to London. But I'm not a city person; I need my countryside, the village life. My friends are here, along with my dad and brothers. Carol waited until after I bought the house before revealing she didn't want to stay here anymore. Maybe if she'd told me earlier, I would've considered moving for her. But by then, all my money was tied up in this place and a thousand horses couldn’t have dragged me away from Fellside at that point.

She took a job in Manchester anyway and commuted at first. Then she said the travel was too much and started staying with a friend a few nights a week. Eventually, she rented a small studio flat—her income was always hers while mine was ours—and only came home on weekends. When she did, we'd often argue; she wanted to go clubbing in Keswick or Carlisle, and I wanted us to spend time together. She seemed like a different person from the one I married, and I thinkit was during those two years that I fell out of love with her.

One day I decided to make an effort and surprised her in Manchester, only to find out she not only had a boyfriend, Greg, but he was living with her too. She'd told him she was divorcing me.

They had a huge argument in front of me, and afterwards, Greg and I went for a beer. Funnily enough, he and I still hang out when I'm in Manchester for football games. That day, I lost a wife but gained a friend.

Since the divorce, I've transformed the farmhouse into a property now valued at three times its original price. With Carol gone, I've also reignited my passion for climbing. Every trip abroad since the divorce has revolved around mountains. I'm not an obsessive climber, but I relish the freedom and the thrill of scaling peaks in the Alps or Himalayas—it's an experience like no other. I've even conquered Ama Dablam in Nepal, though my wildest adventure was ascending Mount Lenin in the Pamir Mountains. Mentioning my travels to Kyrgyzstan usually just elicits confused looks; most people haven't even heard of the country.

When social media took off, I began posting videos of my climbs and gained quite a following. Nothing staged—just pure adrenaline. A few local companies even offered sponsorship for my trips, though it might sound fancy, it was just enough to cover flights and equipment here and there. I'm grateful for the support, but it's been a few years since my last big adventure, and for some reason, that fire isn't burning as brightly anymore. I still love climbing, but personally, I feel like I've reached my peak. I no longer have the same drive to surpass my pastachievements. Now, I climb for fun, right here in Fellside with my friends. It's much better than heading out on expeditions with strangers.

With my passion for the mountains, I probably should have joined Fellside Mountain Rescue. However, being on call at the fire station—a job I'd never give up—makes it impractical to commit to FMR. I enjoy hanging out with the guys here though; in a small village like Fellside, you're always bumping into them. Occasionally, I climb with a couple of the FMR lads.

I haven't been in a relationship since Carol. Contrary to the rumours she spread, I'm no Casanova. I never cheated on her, despite her incessant accusations. Sometimes, I wonder if she was projecting her own indiscretions onto me. Between work, renovating my house, and climbing, I've been kept busy. I've dated a few women since, but nothing serious has developed. I never felt a true emotional connection with any of them. It might make me sound like a knobhead, but it was always more about physical attraction or scratching an itch.

I began to wonder if maybe I wasn't interested in anything more until I bumped into Sheila. She's feisty, beautiful, and funny (not around me, but I've seen her in the pub with her colleagues). She's warm and caring too. I could lose myself in her emerald-green eyes, and just the thought of her curves stirs up a reaction in me that's the last thing I need when I see her in my role as a watch manager. It's a good thing my work trousers are bulky, and I tend to wear tight boxers.

“Josh, dinner’s ready,” Fiona, one of my crew managers, signals as she sticks her head into my office.

“Thank you,I’ll be there in a minute.” I finish off the last of the report confirming that we carried out a visual inspection of the room in question and left once we were satisfied there was no longer any danger. You won’t find the phrase “false alarm” in my report. Anyone in the know could read between the lines but as long as it’s implicit there’s less likely to be consequences.

I’m greeted by the usual chaos when I walk into the dining room of the fire station. It's our thing; we try to grab at least one meal together each day. Twelve-hour shifts can be a slog but these meals are more than just refuelling, they're our chance to check in and make sure we're working well as a team. We can't have any silly arguments brewing when we're out there, relying on each other to keep safe. Trust is everything in our line of work.

“So, Josh, when are you going to ask out your ginger?” Aaron grins as he helps himself to a burger.

“I’m not,” I mumble and take a bite.

“Excellent, then I can,” Steve, who has been a firefighter almost as long as me cheers from the other end of the table.

“Didn’t know you were interested,” I comment between bites. I’m not going to rise to the bait, I’m not!

“Well, when I saw her today and that mighty fine arse and—”

I swallow hard. He is just baiting me.Don’t give him what he wants, Josh!

“And those lips. I know where I’d like to feel them,” he adds.

Over my dead body is he going after her.“Shut up,” I growl.

“Why?” he grins and knows he’s got me.

"Because... you shouldn't speak about someone we deal with professionally like that." It's not entirely untrue what I'm saying, but we both know that's not why I've asked him to keep quiet.

“When Steve’s finished goading you, can I just say, as a friend, you should really make a move. You’ve been mooning over her for almost a year—” I don’t let Fiona finish the sentence.

“It hasn’t been that long and I don’t moon over anyone.”

“Yes, you do, and yes, it has. It was after Christmas that we were called out. That’s eight months mate.” Aaron chimes in.

Fuck, he’s right.

“I don’t get it. I’ve never seen you shy around a woman before.” Aaron is right but I won’t admit that.Nope!

I swallow the last of my food. Mumbling an excuse about reports I need to write I flee the dining room. I’m done with this conversation.

Chapter 3

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