Page 46 of His Reward
“We were just doing our job,” another of the guys, Boston’s closest friend, Roscoe, said.
“Come on over and sit down,” Giovanni said, racing to plump some of the pillows on the sofa to make a place for me. “We were just watching coverage of skiing from the Winter Games. Want me to microwave a pizza bagel for you?”
“What’s a pizza bagel?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at Boston, then stepping over to the sofa.
“It’s an abomination,” Boston said, giving Giovanni a daddy-alpha look. “How can you eat pizza bagels at nine in the morning?”
“Every time is a perfect time for pizza bagels,” Giovanni said, pulling a box out of the freezer of a large refrigerator unit on one side of the room. “You’ll love them,” he told me.
“I don’t usually eat junk food,” I said, feeling warmer and happier by the moment as I settled on the sofa, Ernie taking a seat near me. “I have to stick to a healthy diet while training.”
“Training?” Roscoe asked, glancing to Boston for a second before looking at me again. “So you’re planning on making a comeback?”
“That’s not what the lady in that interview last night implied,” Ernie said.
My heart sank for a moment as the whir of the microwave running filled the lounge. I should have felt low and embarrassed as I remembered the debacle of the interview. Jennifer had violated my trust so badly, and my father had more or less thrown me under a bus during the live segment of the interview. But the hopeful looks on the firehouse guys’ faces stirred another feeling in me entirely.
“Yeah,” I said, relaxing into the sofa cushions. “I do intend to make a comeback. A lot of the things that aired in that interview were taken out of context or edited to make me look like I’m done.”
“We noticed,” Ernie said, glancing at Boston. He looked back at me and continued with, “I sat in while that woman was filming. She played one or two clips of things Bos said and left out the rest of it. She did the same to you, too, I assume.”
“She did,” I said, liking Ernie even more.
The microwave dinged, and a few seconds later, Giovanni plopped next to me on the sofa with a plate of the most disgusting-looking, delicious-smelling things I’d ever seen.“When do you start training for your comeback?” Giovanni asked.
I reached for one of the bagel things but pulled my hand back when it proved too hot. A sudden jolt of anxiety washed through me, but instead of giving in to it, I used it to propel myself forward and make a decision that had been lingering like a question in the back of my mind for a long time.
“I suppose I should start training again immediately,” I said. I summoned up a tiny bit of bravery and picked up one of the pizza bagels. It was ridiculous for me to be afraid of it just because it was hot. “But not before I eat one or two of these bagel things.”
That wasthe beginning of things, the beginning of the next chapter of my life. Over the next few days, Boston and I made a couple of trips back to my condo, where my mom was now living, since she’d finally left my father, to pick up essentials. I moved in with Boston, and although we kept saying it was temporary, we both knew it was more than that.
I didn’t just sit around the firehouse once I was completely moved in either. In a bold move that surprised even me, the very next day, when the guys ran through a few drills that involved lugging around heavy equipment and hoses, I asked if I could join in.
“You planning to be a firefighter now?” Roscoe asked me with a grin.
“No,” I said with more confidence than I’d felt in months, “but I need to build my strength back up. I haven’t been to a gym or done any training since the fire.”
“Well, if Boston says it’s okay, you can do drills and work out with us. But only if you’re medically allowed to.”
I smiled sheepishly at him. “My physical therapist, Gemma, has been pushing me to start working out again for a while. I guess I’ve just been so worried about injuring myself all over again that I’ve been putting it off. I think I’m ready now.”
That was definitely true. And after talking with both Gemma and Dr. Barber about my needs and limitations, the guys at the firehouse helped me set up a workout routine with them that involved mock fire drills.
On top of that, and strangely enough, watching the Winter Games with my new alpha firefighter friends made the whole experience a hundred times less traumatic than if I’d watched it at my place with just Boston and my mom. Even though they were the two people I cared about most in the world, it still felt like watching my former life pass me by all alone at my place. At the firehouse, I had a whole team around me who had nothing connecting them to that lost part of me. That was such a weird comfort.
“Ooh, that guy is really good,” Danny, one of the firefighters I met on the second day of staying with Boston said as we all squashed together on the firehouse lounge sofa, watching the finals of the male omega single’s competition.
I laughed and snuggled against Boston, who sat beside me with his arm around my shoulders the way I loved. “That’s Oliver Sagwa, my best friend.” And he was skating perfectly. I was genuinely happy for him.
“You’re best friends with that guy?” Dakota, the other half of the Double Ds, as they called themselves for some ridiculous reason, asked.
“Yes,” I laughed. “I have been for years. I’m actually friends with most of the skaters on the senior level to one degree or another. It’s a small world.”
“Wait,” Giovanni said, his large eyes going even larger. “Are you friends with Thomas Murphy? Can you get me a date with him?”
I laughed out loud, harder and deeper than I’d laughed in months. I felt Boston positively glow with happiness because I was so relaxed and carefree for a change. “Maybe?” I said, too giddy to tell Giovanni no outright. “I mean, the skating season ends with the Winter Games, and even though Tom competes for Ireland, he lives just a few miles up the road from Barrington.”
“Really?” Giovanni looked like a kid on Christmas, despite his huge size.
