Page 25 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“Why is it all about what you want? I’m the injured party and I’m fine with it.” They reached her older-model BMW, the one she intended to trade in for a brand-new version as soon as she got her first job. She took out her keys and clicked the unlock button.

“But Court—”

Suddenly he had an armful of books and she was opening her car door. “Be a nice guy and put my books in the car, would you?”

Desperate, Fred saw his chance slipping away. A horrible vision of life as Courtney’s husband flashed through his mind. Always trying to get her to listen. Always backing down because he didn’t want to hurt her. Because he was a “nice guy.”

The words “nice guy” echoed through his brain. Being a nice guy was one thing. Being a pushover was another. And what Courtney didn’t understand about him was that he had never been a pushover.

He loaded her books into the car, shut the door, and stepped back. She beckoned him toward the passenger seat. Even in the twilit parking lot he could make out the impatient curl of her lip. He turned to go.

“Good-bye, Courtney.”

“No. We decided. You are not doing this.”

“I am doing this. We’re done. It’s not going to work out.” Her mouth popped open to argue some more. “When you look at me, do you see anything besides a Bachelor Fireman? Any Bachelor Fireman?” Her mouth snapped shut with a click of molars. Boom. So that was it. It sure had taken a long time to figure out. “Courtney, listen close. I’m never going to marry you. That’s not ever going to happen.” A sudden stroke of inspiration made him add, “Don’t you think it’s better if you start looking for someone else right away rather than dragging it out?”

She twitched her ponytail behind her back. “But I’ve invested six months in you.”

“Better six months than a year. Or two years.”

He watched that one sink in. “Is this because the other firefighters don’t like me? You shouldn’t listen to them. They’re jerks, and they’re sexist too. I didn’t want to say this before, but they have a problem with successful women.”

Hell, no. Going after his firehouse crew was not a smart move.

“Stop it right there, Court. Those guys are like my brothers and sisters, and if you paid any attention, you’d know they’re not like that. Brody’s wife is a journalist. Captain Stone’s is a press secretary. Cherie’s starting a movement therapy program for kids.” Courtney opened her mouth but he kept on going. “Katie Blake just finished her degree in elder care. Psycho’s wife, Lara, is a doctor with her own clinic. Maribel up in Alaska just won a huge award for her photography. No one at the station has a problem with successful women. And have you forgotten about Sabina and One? They’re both badass. We’re breaking up because I don’t love you, I don’t want to marry you, and you should be with someone who does. End of story. Good-bye.” He spun away and headed across the lot toward his truck.

“That’s … You’re … I was wrong!” she yelled after him. “You’re not a nice guy!”

He probably shouldn’t be pleased by those last words, but he just couldn’t help it.

Eight o’clock on Friday night found Fred making spaghetti sauce and trying to get the Sinclair boys to go home.

“Your mother wanted you home at seven-thirty. What are you still doing here?” he called from the kitchen.

“We’re practicing,” squeaked Jackson. For the past hour, he and Tremaine had been working on a new hold Fred had taught them. Right now he was probably facedown on the living room carpet. “You told us we gotta practice harder. Mama said so too.”

“If you go home now, I’ll spar with you tomorrow.” Bribery usually worked with the kids. “I have someone coming over.”

“Oooh, dude’s got a date,” Tremaine yelled. “He’s going to get some tonight.”

Fred cringed, glancing at the clock timer on his stove. She was three minutes late. That probably meant she wasn’t coming. “It’s not a date, Tremaine. I don’t want you talking like that here. This is like your dojo. Respect your dojo.”

“Sorry, Mr. Fred.” Tremaine led the other boys into the kitchen. “You should let us stay so we can help out.”

“Oh, really, I should? How would you help out?”

“Bring the food and shit. Get her some water if she wants water. Or if she wants a soda we can do that too.”

“We do that for Mama,” Kip piped up.

Jackson added, “We can make you look good too. Act like we really like you and say good things about you.”

“I thought you did really like me.”

“We like you better when you’re not kicking us out of your house,” he explained.

“Nice try, but I got this,” he told them. “I’ll be lucky if she shows up at all, and I don’t want to scare her off.”

“Why would we scare her? She afraid of kids?”

“I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure is that she likes dogs.”

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