Page 6 of Rocky Mountain Hero

Dragging my hands down my face, I glance over at her. There’s a strange look on my mom’s face but I can’t pinpoint it. A tingle of concern pricks at the back of my neck, but I quickly rub it away. My head’s messed up after learning this shocking news and I must be seeing things.

Willa has been strangely quiet throughout this chat, but when I peek over at her, she’s sharing a look with Mom. What the—

“We’re back,” my dad’s voice rings strong from the front of the house. The stomping of boots makes the floor vibrate as Dad and Davis trudge down the hallway to find us. Entering the kitchen, Dad throws his arms wide, balancing his prize pie in one palm.

“We got the last one,” he cheers, my mother hugging close into his side. Davis immediately makes his way to Willa, giving her a kiss. And I sit alone, watching them all, feeling very out of place.

Not because of the love that surrounds me—no, I’m used to the cuddly displays of affection—it’s the fact that I can’t stop imagining Scott in a scenario like this. Him coming in with my father and brother, smiles all around. Like he used to when we were younger.

But this time, in my imagination, he’d walk into my arms. Giving me a welcoming kiss.

Eventually I’m able to shake away my strange feelings and enjoy dinner with my family. My next shift at the firehouse isn’t for another two days so I’m able to sit back and enjoy myself. Eating way too much pie and laughing so hard with Willa that I almost wet myself.

It’s not until I’m on my way home, a container full of leftovers my mom shoved into my hands sliding across the passenger seat, that I remember I still need to stop off at the drugstore. This morning I had awkwardly clung to the oval plastic bottom of my deodorant stick, desperately trying to use the last of it. The stick had fallen apart days ago, but I was too stubborn to throw it out until all of it was gone. Today I’d had to call it.

With a giant sigh and a curse at myself for not doing it earlier in the day when I wasn’t so contently full and tired, I make a turn down Main. It’s only a little past eight, but the store is almost empty when I walk in. Knowing exactly where to go, I beeline down the center aisle then turn two rows down once I get to the middle.

I grab the first deodorant brand that’s on sale and then make my way one more row over and grab a bottle of conditioner. I am almost out of this too and I refuse to have frizzy hair. My helmet already caused enough bad hair days for me, I didn’t need my natural frizz to make an appearance either.

Tucking the bottle under my arm, I pause for a second to run over my list of essentials—do I need anything else? A piercing wail has me jumping in place, almost startling the items out of my arms. The gentle cooing of a deep voice then has my heart speeding up in a new way.

It couldn’t be…could it?

I peek around the corner of the aisle, and my eyes widen when I see Scott calmly trying to soothe both kids and having no success. Bouncing the little girl in one arm and the boy in the other, he rushes down the aisle toward the pharmacy.

The lights are still on over the counter, but I know for a fact Lionel, the head pharmacist, has gone home for the night. There’s a frantic look on Scott’s face as he leans over the counter looking for help.

I can’t leave him like this. He clearly needs some help and I know I’d regret it if I left and didn’t say something.

Gripping my items in my hands to ground me and get rid of some of my nerves, I step out of the aisle and call out.

“Hey, Scott. I hate to tell you this but the pharmacist has gone for the night.”

His wide and wild eyes dart to me, a little shiny with emotion.

“No. Really? I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

Taking another step forward, I hold out a hand, rubbing the little girl’s back as she clings to Scott.

“That’s okay. It’s okay, little one. I’ll help.”

“I think Logan has an ear infection. He keeps pulling on his ear and I know at his day care one of the other kids had an ear infection. Are they contagious? I should have looked that up. I don’t know—”

“Scott! Take a breath. Everything is going to be okay.” I take Logan out of his arms and set the boy down and kneel. “Hey, buddy,” I say softly, brushing the tears from his face. “Does your ear hurt?”

His lip quivers as he nods, his eyes so large and sad they break my heart.

“Okay, thank you for telling me. I know just the thing to make it better. Wanna come with me? Your uncle Scott and sister will be right behind us.” I flick my eyes up to Scott, getting his permission. He nods, looking stunned yet thankful.

Taking Logan’s hand, we make our way through the store to the cold and flu section. The bright and cheery boxes of all the children’s medication are easy to spot.

“Any allergies?” I ask, directing my question to Scott, who’s whispering to his hiccupping niece.

“Not with Logan, no.”

I hum, going back to the various shelves of medicine. I read the backs of two options as quick as I can, selecting the box that I remember one of the guys at the station uses for his twins, and also a box of children’s ibuprofen. Reaching for Logan’s hand again, I lead him to the checkout, grabbing a bottle of juice on the way.

Before Scott knows what’s happening, I’ve paid for the juice and the medicine. Once we’re outside, I lead them to my car. A small grin spreads across Logan’s face when he sees my bright red car, but a second later he winces, and tears begin to fall again.

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