Page 29 of Feels Like Home
I shoot a death stare right back at him.
"You know what." I yank my napkin off my lap and throw it onto the plate. "I seem to have lost my appetite."
Zane shrugs. "Whatever."
I get up to leave, seething with anger. Here I was, trying to let the guy down gently, andthisis the thanks I get?
The little fucker. Who does he think he is?
He glances up at me and smirks. "Buzz and I have a chocolate-making date next week, you know."
"A chocolate-makingclass, not a date," I fire back, jamming my arms into my coat and dragging my beanie over my head. I snatch my gloves off the table, and before common sense can catch up to me, I lean down and sneer, "And get a fucking haircut."
17
Buzz
By the time we roll up, the fire is tearing through the back half of the single-story house at the edge of town. Black smoke billows above the tree line, and neighbors have gathered at the curb to watch the spectacle.
Everyone managed to get out safely, but I'll double-check anyway like always. Never assume the building is clear. That's one of the golden rules.
Ramzi and I jump off the truck and haul the hose line from its cradle. With masks on, we run into the burning house, shoulder to shoulder, the hose stretching behind us.
The air inside is thick and suffocatingly hot as we make our way down a long, narrow corridor toward the back of the house. The hiss of the fire roars in my ears as I grab the nozzle and Ramzi keeps the hose steady.
I aim at the heart of the flames engulfing the kitchen. The water sprays over the blaze, sending a cloud of steam and soot surging toward the ceiling.
"To your right!" Ramzi calls out, and I sweep to the right, dousing whatever had ignited in the corner of the room.
We manage to drive the fire back, the orange blaze dimming until all that's left is a smoldering mess of wet debris and thick, gray smoke.
"Good job, man," he says once we're back outside.
"Teamwork!" I high-five him, my body thrumming with adrenaline.
Never fails to hit me, even on a relatively small and simple job like this one, how much I love what I do. There's nothing better than knowing you've helped make a difference. I totally get why Court is so dedicated to his career. It's addictive.
Ramzi and I are coiling the last length of hose when lights from another engine light up the street. "Relief crew," he says, sounding every bit as relieved as I feel.
It's our last job after pulling another double shift, and it looks like we're being released from the scene. The relief crew will come in and handle the overhaul, which is all the things we have to do once the fire is out, like confirming it's fully extinguished, preventing rekindling, and investigating the cause.
"Good job," the lieutenant says, clapping us both on the back. "You boys have been workin' two days straight. Go to the station, clean up, and go home and get into bed. We'll take over scene watch."
We both gratefully accept the out.
Once we're in the truck, Ramzi says, "We're going to be driving past your place. Want me to drop you off there?"
"Actually, yeah." Fatigue crashes into me now that I'm sitting down. "That'd be great. I can pick up my stuff from the station tomorrow."
"No worries." He glances over at me and, even though he's got to be as exhausted as I am, manages a cheeky smile. "Looking forward to getting back home to yourhusband?"
Court and I have only been married a few days, but I've worked most of them, which means I've copped plenty of shit from Ramzi and the rest of the crew about it. It's been allhusband thisandhusband that.
I've given up trying to explain this is just an arrangement for Court to inherit the inn because it's in one ear, out the other. I've come to accept I'll be teased about this until the next time Ramzi does something stupid with his dick, like banging his former babysitter.
"I am, but…"
"But what?"
