Chapter 3

While adjusting the clip with my employee badge at my hip, Matthew opens a few cabinet doors at the fire station. “Here’s where we keep overstock.”

“Got it.” I acknowledge to my new medic, who’s giving me a tour of the county fire station. Is everybody in this town good-looking? Is it the water? Should I be drinking more water?

Matt is attractive the way a Ken doll is attractive. I stare at him like a scientist studying a test subject. He’s just so… pretty . Thankfully, I’m not sexually attracted to him, and I think we’re going to get along well together. He’s nice, knowledgeable, and treats me as an equal, unlike other stations I’ve worked at where they love hazing the newbie.

The firefighters seem nice too. One of the guys, Dave, introduced himself at the bar. I think he had a few too many that night. Especially after some other patron called him out on having a wife and a couple kids at home. Truthfully, I’m not sure if he even remembers because he hasn’t given me any sideways glances—for which I’m grateful.

He opens another cabinet with CPR dummies inside and some other training materials. A sealed package containing one of the Resuscitation Annie’s faces falls onto the floor like one of Hannibal Lector’s snacks. Annie, are you okay? I stuff it back in the cabinet and shut the door, then follow him through another doorway that leads to a large open room with windows spanning one of the exterior walls. The center of the room holds foosball and Ping-Pong tables. Along another wall is a mounted television and a leather couch that’s seen better days.

“Rec room.”

“Nice.”

“Some of the fire guys take the games pretty seriously.” He gestures toward the wall with two large whiteboards, one filled with a foosball bracket and the other set up with Ping-Pong scores.

“Yeah, I’m not at that level. Not anymore, at least. I could have gone pro in college, but, ya know…” I end the joke with a wistful sigh.

“Injury?” he asks, matching my bit.

“Nah, couldn't handle the pressure. The fans, the women, the money… It became too much. So naturally, I became an EMT.”

“That’s the logical path.” Matt chuckles and I smile. At least my medic has a small sense of humor. That would not have flown at my last job. “I think you’ll fit in well here. Laurel and Pete are on a call, but when they come back, I’ll introduce you.”

“Great, I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

I spend my downtime going through the rig and bag, memorizing where supplies and gear are kept. Every station and rig are a little different, and I want to make sure I don’t fuck this opportunity up.

“This is ambulance twenty-three, en route to you with a fifty-four-year-old male who fell approximately fifteen feet from a roof. GCS is normal. Left wrist deformity without active bleeding. No other injuries upon physical exam.” I peek at the top of my gloved hand, where I jotted down vitals with a Sharpie. “Blood pressure 120/70, pulse 79, respirations 18, oxygen 98. C-collar in place. ETA seven minutes.”

After we get the patient checked in, I give the report to the triage nurse in the emergency department. Then my phone buzzes in my pocket, delivering a small dose of excitement. I ignore it to keep from smiling while I tell the nurse about her patient’s busted wrist. Few people have this number: my landlord, my work, and Cal .

Cal the Liar , as he saved himself in my phone. The man has a bit of fuckboy energy for someone who appears to be in his thirties, but his confidence and physical appearance still put butterflies in my stomach. He’s handsome as hell. Scruffy beard, chiseled jaw, bright-brown eyes, and an irresistible smile that made me blush. He looks like lumberjack porn. Not to mention, he gave me my first real laugh in a long time. Conversation was easy, and for the short duration of our meeting, I forgot all about the things I ran away from. I wasn’t anxious or on edge. I was just Prescott Timmons, living in the moment.

“Ready?” Matt asks after we wrap up with the emergency department.

I nod and peel off my gloves, then snap them into the trashcan on the way out. Sliding my phone from my pocket, I grin at his name on the screen.

Cal the Liar

Hey You.

Hi.

Cal the Liar

Where are you right now?

Hospital, why?

Cal the liar

Is everything okay?

Yeah, just working.

We pass through the sliding doors. Matt and I return to the rig and buckle up. He grabs the radio and reports to dispatch that we're on our way back to the station. While he drives, I get to work on charting our patient. They use a software a little different than the one I’m used to, so I need the practice.

Cal the Liar

Oh, you work in healthcare.

I pause for a moment before I respond. Anytime I tell someone I’m an EMT, it leads to a barrage of questions, like “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?” or “Has anybody ever died on your watch?” Besides, I hardly know this guy. And technically, it is healthcare.

Yeah. What about you?

Cal the Liar

I’m a dolphin trainer.

I roll my eyes. Gotta give him credit, he knows how to commit to his nickname.

…

Cal the liar

Tough crowd. I work in forestry.

That correlates with his tan lines I noticed the other night.

Lumberjack?

Cal the liar

Sometimes it feels like it.

Must be having a slow day at the office then.

Cal the liar

No, pretty busy actually. But I was thinking about you, so…

That another lie?

Cal the liar

No, but this is…

I hope you have a terrible rest of your day, Scottie.

The corner of my mouth tips up into a smile, and I shake my head.

Thanks. Hope yours sucks big time.

I snap my phone shut and stuff it back in my pocket with a conflicting feeling in my gut. I’m not at a place in my life to be involved with anyone, so I don’t even know why I’m entertaining thoughts about this guy. I’m trying to start a new life for myself. He is kind of funny though… and hot. How can having a crush feel too soon yet overdue at the same time?

I have a satisfied smile when I return to my apartment after surviving my first workday with no major fuckups. It was important for me to make a good impression. I’ll have plenty of days ahead to make mistakes, but I wanted my first day to go well.

I open up the nearly bare cabinets in my kitchen and figure out what I will make for dinner. Canned peaches or canned green beans? I snag the green beans and find my trusty can opener and peel back the lid. The grin on my face spreads when I drain the water; I have an actual sink! Living in your car sure makes you appreciate things like modern plumbing. No more showering at the gym. No more gas station bathrooms.

I pluck a plastic fork from the drawer and head toward the window of my studio apartment. Using my foot, I nudge the inflatable mattress against the wall, then plop down in front of the window and rest an elbow on the sill. Outside, it’s not busy like Main Street, but I can still watch the town’s residents walk by my building—and that’s almost as good as television. I stab my fork into the green beans and stuff them into my mouth. The salty, and slightly waxy, beans taste like a five-star Michelin meal. Honestly, I’d eat this for dinner even if I wasn’t broke.

I bring another forkful to my mouth but freeze halfway when I see a woman with a big orange floppy hat pushing a stroller—a cat stroller. Sure enough, a big fat tabby is propped up in the seat, bouncing along the bumpy sidewalk. I snort at the way he jiggles in his seat. This town has some characters. My phone buzzes. I set the fork in the can and rest it on the windowsill. Another text from Cal.

Cal the liar

How was your day?

Good. You?

Cal the liar

Good. Hungry. Wanna grab dinner?

I take another bite, dropping the fork back into the hollow tin can.

Just ate, sorry.

Cal the liar

Bummer. Are you free Saturday night?

The whiskey I bought the other night was a celebration after securing my offer letter. I wanted to feel like an ordinary person and be around other ordinary people. I’ve been so lonely since I left Arkansas, so I needed that night at the bar, but for now, the rest of my cash is reserved for emergencies only. I’m on canned dinners until my first paycheck clears.

I’ve only gone on dates with Jonathan. Do men still pay for their date’s dinner? What if he wants to go somewhere fancy? I can’t risk having to split the bill and have my bank account take the hit.

Sorry, I’ve got plans this weekend. Raincheck? Maybe the weekend after?

Cal the liar

It’s a date.

What the hell am I doing? I haven’t been settled in this town for more than a couple weeks and I already have a date scheduled? At thirty-two, it’s been well over a decade since I’ve been on a first date, and I’m not sure if those even count. This is wrong, but damn, flirting felt so right. I want normalcy, and that means stepping outside my comfort zone. As much as I shouldn’t entertain the idea of dating, it feels natural. What difference does it make?

“You’re in over your head.”

After that text, guilt has me opening Facebook. People have been leaving their condolences and offers of support for Jonathan. Some of the bolder members of the community call me names. I refuse to be a part of that life; I’m disgusted I stayed as long as I did. I warned him plenty of times that the day would come when he would wake up and I would be gone. It was the only way to escape.

Still, I worry about him. Why the hell didn’t he come with me? We could have left together. Started our lives over and actually lived for once.

New state, new job, new people, new beginning. The slate gets no cleaner than this.

It’s bizarre to go from having people constantly around to… no one. I’ve got three numbers in my cell phone. My landlord, my work, and some stranger I met at the bar. At first, I found peace in the silence, but lately, it feels so loud. Now is one of those times.

I need fresh air. Time to go for a run and check on my dream house. Clear my head of these anxious thoughts.