Page 127 of Sweet Caroline
“Not what I said.” I jab the button for the crosswalk and sling my bag over my shoulder, switching my phone to my other ear. “It’s not like all my problems magically disappeared here.”
Cowed though he may be by losing the race for governor, Pete Brennan is still a powerful, influential man; he could still use his position as a senator to fuck up my livelihood. This isn’t only a question of my mental readiness.
“Okay, but what I’m saying is, it’s more of a job thing than a sobriety thing at this point, right?”
“I guess?” My anxiety spikes just thinking about that. But there’s something else there. Something warmer, lighter.Something that feels like relief. “I dunno. I literally just got out of therapy. I need some time to think.”
“You gonna talk to her?”
“Dude, what did I just say?” Shaking my head, I jog across the street toward the construction site, reminding myself not to look at the gallery. I usually arrive at work earlier than Caroline would, but, after therapy this morning, I’m starting later than usual.
“Just sayin’, man…” I can practically hear Gus smiling on the other end. “You’ve been a miserable fucking mess lately.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“Listen, I saw how happy Caroline made you, back before… y’know. I just mean it’d be cool to get your girl back.”
Fucking understatement of the century.
He goes on, “Is the job thing really make-or-break? There have to be other construction gigs. Like, if he were to screw you over with that one.”
“I dunno. In this town, it’s pretty much all Sitka builds. Trust me, I’ve looked into it.” I pin the phone against my shoulder and fish my hard hat out from my backpack. “If he can fuck with me here, he could fuck with me on any job site in Lennox.”
Gus hums a little sound of understanding and pauses. “Well, if it’s a paycheck you need, the station needs new recruits. A couple older guys are retiring this year.”
“What, seriously?” I squint against the low morning sun. A career change is too much to integrate into my exhausted goo-brain.
“Yeah. And like, I dunno if you’d be open to switching things up at that level—and I don’t wanna downplay the stress of that—but you’d pass the physical no problem. And if that old prick ever tried to fuck with anything LVFD-related, I’d back you up.”
Whoa. Becoming a firefighter?
Having heard a bit about the kind of calls Gus gets, I don’t know if I could hack it—especially considering how I lost my shiton Halloween. Of course, that was more about who was involved than the fire itself, but…God, the prospect of finding a way back to being with Caroline?
Could I change jobs?
“And hey,” Gus adds, “you know I love a happy ending.”
“Um, gross?”
He puffs a laugh. “Not like that. Shit. Happy ever after? You know what I mean. Plus, it’s almost Christmas.”
I have half a mind to brush him off, but a fuzzy kind of realization simmers in my head. Maybe I’m not as trapped in this situation as I thought. Aside from income, nothing’s tying me to this work. I was already an addict back when I started out in construction, too far gone by then to give a shit about making an intentional career choice. Construction work was a paycheck—a thing I could do. Keeping at it was the path of least resistance. I’m good at my job, but it’s not like acalling.
“Look, I gotta get to work. I can’t process any of this right now.”
“Could be a Christmas miracle…”
Jesus.Gus’ sap factor really goes off the charts when it comes to the holidays.
“Bruh, you sound like a six-year-old girl.”
“Hey,” he chuckles, “normalize grown men believing in the magic of Christmas, and?—”
“Gotta go!”
“And true love, dude!”
“Bye!” I hang up on his sappy ass with a smirk and head into the site office.
