Page 136 of Sweet Caroline
My indecisive loitering outside eventually summons a young woman in a thick LVFD coat and navy cargo pants, who emerges from a wall of equipment in the back corner of the fire station. “Hey! Something I can help you with?”
“Yeah, hi,” I say, stepping toward her. “Sorry for just dropping in. I wasn’t sure where to go, but I need to talk to Gus. Is he here?”
“Oh, yeah. Come on in. Shep’s upstairs. Follow me.”
“Shep?” I follow her inside, toward a narrow staircase.
“Yeah, Gus Shepherd, right?” Climbing the stairs ahead of me, she glances at me over her shoulder. “That’s who you’re looking for?”
“Yeah, uh…” I thumb the handle of the gift bag as we reach a kitchen area. “I actually didn’t know his last na?—”
“Caroline! Hey!” Gus calls over from the stove. Stirring a huge, steaming pot of what smells like chili, he lifts his chin at the woman who let me in. “Thanks, Martinez.”
She nods and disappears the way we came.
Gus lowers the heat on the stove and turns to face me. “What’re you doing here?”
Great question.
I open my mouth to answer but get interrupted when a young, muscular firefighter comes up the stairs carrying a tray. I step out of his way so he can set it on the counter beside Gus. “Hey, Shep! Brought some fresh bread from my Nonna.”
“Oh, hell yes!” Gus peeks under the cloth covering the tray and takes a huge whiff. “Damn,” he sighs, “that smells good.”
“Figured we could have it with the chili,” the young guy explains.
Gus cocks a brow my way. “Nicolosi’s Nonna is a damn saint.”
The guy, who I gather is called Nicolosi, finally cuts his gaze to me and his expression shifts. “Well, who do we have here?”
“Nicolosi?” Gus gives him a long, warning glare. “Wrong tree.”
“Roger that, Shep.” With a polite nod, Nicolosi excuses himself and ducks back into the stairwell.
“So, what’s up?” Gus asks again once we’re alone. He gives the chili another stir.
“Um, well, I didn’t have your number, so I thought I’d take a chance that you’d be working.” I look around, feeling about as comfortable as a wet sock. “I won’t keep you, but I was hoping you could give this to Miles for me.”
Even saying his name seems to knock the wind out of me, but I force myself to hold up the little gift bag in explanation.
I had to do something for him. He made it to a year sober and I’m so damn proud of him. It had taken me a few days and some begging, but Ada came through for me—gem that she is.
“Uh, okay?” Gus throws a skeptical glance at the bag.
“For his sobriety anniversary?”
Realization smooths the confusion from his face. “Ah, gotcha.”
“Yeah, uh, he saw my grandpa at the hospital the other dayand mentioned it was this weekend.” Awkwardly, I hold out the bag. “So if you could…”
He moves to reach for it, then pulls his hand back. “Actually, I’ll do you one better. You can give it to him yourself.”
“What? No, I?—”
“We’re doing a bonfire in my backyard Saturday night.”
I drop my arm. “Oh, no, I don’t wanna intrude. We haven’t been…” I try to mask the way my throat tenses up just remembering the last time we spoke—those few heartbreaking moments in the ER. “I’m not sure he’d want me there.”
The look Gus gives me drops intoduhterritory. “Promise you he would.”
