Page 40 of Off the Clock

“Why would I do that?”

“Because every time the subject of your exams and the academy comes up, you act like you’re trapped in a two-hour delay on I-84.”

“I’m not avoiding the topic.” I sure was getting good at lying. In truth, ever since the hiking rescue, I’d been unsettled. I bugged Eric and Maren for updates on Diesel far more than I should have, following along with his up-and-down recovery journey like it was a referendum on my future. The last I’d heard, he was out of ICU but still struggling with infection and other setbacks. Eric continued to look at me expectantly, so I added to my pile of lies and half-truths. “I’ve just been so busy with the fundraiser and adjusting from military life.”

“Is adjusting harder than you expected? There’s help with the transition?—”

I cut him off with a raised hand. “I’m fine. It’s a different pace and mindset than being on a mission, but I’ll adapt.”

“I know you will.” Eric gave a tired chuckle as he gazed over at the group of kids emerging from the school, all fresh from the showers and roughhousing their way back to the field and waiting parents. “I swear John grew two inches this summer and put on fifteen pounds of muscle.”

“They’re all growing like weeds. It’s what kids seem to do in the summer, according to my sisters.”

“Yeah.” Eric’s expression and tone took on a faraway cast. “I wish Montgomery could see the man John’s becoming. They’d be almost the same height now. I’m so proud of John, but not having Montgomery to share that pride with feels weird. He should be here…” Eric trailed off as he looked away. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“No, you won’t,” I said sternly. “You’re allowed to miss your husband, Eric.”

“Thanks.” He offered me a rueful smile that didn’t reach his exhausted eyes. “I meant I felt bad complaining to you, my most relationship-averse friend.”

I made an irritated noise. “I’m not that bad. And I can appreciate what you had and not necessarily want it for myself.”

“It was a damn good thing.” Eric inhaled deeply. “And I’ve said it before, but I’d do it all over again. Even knowing this is how it ends.”

“Yeah.” I took a deep breath of my own, immersed in my swirling thoughts of which hurts were worth it and which I should be running from. “Maybe someday you’ll?—”

“You say the word date and you can sleep in the basement with Jonas and Oz for the next month. No, I had my once-in-a-lifetime, thank you very much. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting lasting love for my friends.”

“Like Sean and Denver.”

“And you,” Eric added mildly.

“Thought I was your most relationship-averse friend,” I grumbled.

“You know what they say about pride and falls.” His eyes twinkled with a bit of his old humor. “And maybe back in town with your sisters tossing single friends at you, you’ll finally change your tune.”

“Doubtful.” I meant the success of any matchmaking efforts, but Eric made a frustrated noise.

“Don’t be so stubborn you miss out on something wonderful,” he ordered with a sharp nod.

And damn me and my two decades of training as an operative because I still glanced over at Caleb and the decorating committee.Way to be subtle, Capo.I made myself return my attention to Eric.

“I’ll try.”

“You do that.” Our gazes met for a second, and I wished I could say more, confess how jumbled up over relationships I truly was. But I couldn’t. Secrecy sucked, and for a moment, I let myself picture a life like Eric and Montgomery had. Out, not just to a select few, but to the world at large like Sean and Denver. Walking home with Caleb, proudly holding hands instead of glancing over my shoulder every block. Not having to schedule overnights like a tactical mission. Shopping together. Cooking. Sleeping instead of trying to squeeze in as much sex as possible.

Fuck me.I truly did have it bad when I was romanticizing getting to snooze with someone. And even knowing how precarious our situation was, I was still counting down to the weekend and our chance for a private sleepover.

Chapter Nineteen

Caleb

The day of the football fundraiser was about as perfect an August Saturday as one could wish for in Mount Hope, sunny with a warm breeze without being sweltering, ideal weather for the charity game, followed by the fundraising dinner and silent auction. I’d worked with other committee members assembling tents, hanging decor, laying out mementos of past teams, and arranging food deliveries the past few days. Accordingly, watching everything come together for a sellout crowd was almost as big a rush as pulling off a rescue on shift.

My adrenaline was nothing compared to Scotty and the rest of the high school team, who predictably had prevailed in a game of touch football with the alumni. The game had been raucous and loosely refereed with the focus on entertaining the crowd. My own entertainment came from watching Tony coach the kids. He radiated positive vibes the whole time, celebrating their successes more than any miscues. And after winning, the team was in a celebratory mood as they heaped their plates full of food from the buffet.

“That’s what I call a win.” Scotty was hyped, and it was fun to see him so enthusiastic.

“Victory, but they made you work for it?” I teased as I refilled a tray of romaine lettuce.

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