Page 49 of Exes and O's

We drive a couple of miles in silence. The steady squeak of the wipers nearly soothes me to sleep. With every swipe, my lids grow heavier. When my eyes close completely, his voice snaps me back to full consciousness. “My mom died when I was thirteen. In a fire.”

I pause for a moment, so as to ensure I’ve heard him correctly. “What?”

“You keep asking why I became a firefighter.”

I sit up in my seat, pin straight, cracking the window for some much-needed fresh air.

His face flickers with annoyance when I open the window, so I savor the blast of cold air for a brief few seconds before closing it again. “Summer going into eighth grade. My mom was napping inside after a double shift. My brother and I were outside with some neighborhood kids. A woman who lived in our building came running out, screaming about smoke in the building. The fire had blocked all the exits. Two firemen had to go in through the window to get her. She passed away later that day from the smoke inhalation.” His tone is emotionless, but his face is pained.

My gut clenches, unable to imagine. “I’m so sorry, Trevor.”

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago,” he says, his eyes on the road. “Logan and I went to live with my grandma after that. The one who taught me how to bake.”

“Were you close with your grandma?”

“Yeah. That woman was no bullshit. We always joke that Angie is her reincarnation,” he says with a small smile. “When she took us in, she had to take on another job to support us. She was always worried about how we’d get through the month. I felt like shit about that. Sometimes I wonder if it’s our fault she kicked the bucket early, you know? Like maybe all the extra stress caused it.”

“I doubt it. And even if it did, I can guarantee she wouldn’t have had it any other way.” I pause, turning toward him. “That must have been really hard. Losing your mom and your grandma.”

“It was,” he admits. “Anyway, was that personal enough for you?”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured to talk about things likethat. Especially if it upsets you,” I tell him. I let a few beats of silence go by before speaking again. “Congratulations, by the way, on your promotion. Scotty told me.”

“Thank you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Just didn’t think it was that big a deal,” he says.

“It is to me,” I assure him. I rest my head back against the seat, cursing myself for the shit timing of my fatigue.

“You get one more question, and then no more talking, okay?”

This perks me up momentarily. I rack my brain for a juicy one. “Okay. If you could picture any woman to break your non-relationship spell, what would she be like? Hypothetically.”

He goes stiff as a board. “I dunno, Tara. What doyouthink she’d be like?”

My lids close as I visualize. “Hmm... Beautiful. Probably the type who would watch sports with you. Eat a burger. Drink beer. One of the not-like-the-other-girls.”

“What’s that?”

“Exactly how it sounds. The girl who doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Isn’t needy or anything like a stereotypical girl. Like Seth’s girlfriend, Ingrid.”

He chuckles. “So... the opposite of you.”

“Basically. You know how inHow to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, supercool Kate Hudson pretends to be a clingy, emotional, fern-obsessed girl to make Matt McConaughey dump her?”

He clears his throat. “No, but go on.”

“I always hated that movie because that girl was me. I was the annoying one that no guy would ever want to date. Anyway, I think that’s the kind of girl you’d be with. The cool one.”

He watches me for a moment. “You’re tired. You should take a nap. Save your voice before you talk my ear off,” he instructs, giving me an unexpected yet gentle squeeze on the forearm.

I can barely even register the delicious scorch of his touch. His eyes ensnare mine unexpectedly, and for some reason, I can’t look away. His small smile is the last thing I see before my lids flutter to a close.

•••

ALL I SEEis beige. The fabric of the interior ceiling of Trevor’s car. There’s a hot sensation pooling in between my thighs, countering the coolness of the car window soothing the side of my head.

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