Page 40 of Jump

I turn my fast walk into a run, and my run into a sprint as soon as I clear the chairs, and the grass opens up to give me space. I throw myself into the truck beside Axel, and clap Sloane on the shoulder as he closes his door, starts the engines, and lets the sirens wail to life.

“Let’s go,” I order. “No reported fatalities, but we check the scene and make damn sure. I don’t want any deaths on my watch tonight.”

* * *

At seven the next morning, my shift comes to an end, and my shirt grows colder as I step outside the station and the drops of water on my shoulder from my shower turn glacial. I carry my duffel in one hand, and a to-go thermos of coffee in the other. Tossing my bag in the bed of my truck and unlocking the driver’s side door, I turn when Axel’s shout echoes across the driveway.

His boots thud against the smooth concrete as he jogs in my direction. “Wait up,” he calls again, his jacket shhp-shhp-shhping as his arms pump, his breath coming out in clouds of white fog. His hair is wet, too, and since his is longer than mine, he’ll be colder in the brisk air.

Sucker.

“You wanna head over to the diner and get breakfast?” He slows a few feet from me and rubs his hands together to combat the November weather. “Hot coffee,” he hums under his breath. “Bacon and eggs. Katrina will serve up the best stack of pancakes you ever tasted, and it’s still early, so it won’t even be busy.”

“Nah.” I clasp my coffee between my hands to filch warmth from the thick steel. “I wanna get home to rest.”

Lie. I want to get home in time to catch Viv before she heads to work for the day.

I want to know how her night went, and since we’re obviously not on a penpal, texting-relationship basis, where I could type something up and simply ask, I need to go see for myself. And I want to make sure she got home safe.

And that the marine kept his hands to himself, unless she specifically said he could touch.

And if she said he could touch, maybe I’ll be able to walk away without telegraphing to her just how much that thought burns me up.

What do I even want from her? What am I hoping to achieve when it comes to me and Viv?

Jump and Ana, my brain insists.

Do I want a relationship?

No.

Do I want a fuck buddy?

Not particularly.

Do I want to ensure she’s always safe and happy?

Yes.

But have I already learned the hard way that I can’t protect anyone if the universe has already decided it’s her turn to go?

Fuck yes.

So why put myself in the same position a second time?

Fuck knows.

“Alright…” Axel drops his hands into his jacket pockets. “Are you still doing that thing where you refuse to spend more than ten seconds with someone other than yourself?”

I scowl, but before I can answer, he continues.

“Because I think it’s not so healthy to always be on your own, Ruiz. You’ve been through hell and back. I get it: you’re in a new town, in a new job, new firehouse. These are all reasons to retreat and stick to yourself. But eventually, you gotta come out.”

“Just because I prefer my own company doesn’t mean I’m depressed or hiding away, Feeney.” I reach out and clap his shoulder in farewell. “I’m processing Ainsley in my own time. In my own way. I’m not despairing in my grief or unable to climb out of the hole I was once in. I’m…” I drop my hand again and shrug. “I’m okay. This is who I am. I like my own space.”

“So how are you dealing with having Viv in your space?” He lifts a brow in question. “When you were with me and Hannah, we all pretty much left each other alone. But now you’re at Viv’s place. How’s it going?”

“Good.” I turn half away and open my door wide. “She understands the value of quiet time, too. She’s content in her own company, as am I. So we’re doing just fine; I stay out of her way, she stays out of mine.”

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