Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Tony

"Rowan got a guitar." Wren, Eric's youngest teen, greeted me at the kitchen door as I let myself into the house after my shift at the fire station.

"Uh, hello to you too." I was still figuring out how to deal with Wren's hyper-literal speech that left little room for small talk or social niceties. They had wild, frizzy hair and perpetually askew clothing at odds with their serious tone and academic nature.

"He sounds like angry seagulls." Wren waved their hands toward the back stairs. Indeed, squawky metallic sounds filtered down from the second floor. "Beware."

"Wren's a little dramatic, but Rowan using his summer job money for an electric guitar was…unexpected." Jonas, another old friend from when I'd lived with Eric during my brief stint in community college, wandered into the kitchen, drying off his hands on a cotton dishtowel. His dog Oz followed close behind before flopping onto a rug near the cookbook shelf. "How was the first day on the job?"

"It was okay." I wasn't sure how to explain how I'd felt both welcomed and out of place. I felt old, especially next to Caleb. While I was no stranger to younger commanding officers, his bright, sunshiny nature made me feel particularly ancient. And I could also do without the thrum of awareness that raced through me every time I noticed his infectious grin or those damn hypnotic eyes of his. Coworkers. We were coworkers, and I needed to pack away that awareness in the same vault I'd used for years. "Nice group of people."

"They are," Jonas agreed with an easy smile, thankfully not calling me on my bland description. "The whole first-responder community here is pretty awesome. It's a huge part of why I've stayed in the ER even after getting my nurse practitioner and other degrees."

"I've got a bachelor's thanks to the army, but you put the rest of us to shame." I smiled back. Jonas was a big bear of a guy, tall and broad with a neatly trimmed beard. Back in community college, he'd been the one with straight A s, so it was no surprise he'd racked up multiple nursing degrees over the years, working up to being a nursing supervisor in the ER now.

"I'm never getting any degrees if this house doesn't quiet down." Wren gave a loud sniff, using a scolding tone. They had moved to a stool at the kitchen island and held up a thick textbook. "Some of us are trying to read."

"You're reading a medical textbook?" I tilted my head, but sure enough, the library book looked like something you'd see at a medical school, complete with a dry title: Textbook of Endocrinology .

"I had a question about metabolic rate that the nutrition textbook I found first couldn't answer adequately." Wren sounded far more ready to teach a college course than attend middle school. I pitied the eighth-grade staff at Mount Hope Middle School. Wren was going to be a handful.

"I see." I nodded like I might have a hope of understanding their scientific mind.

"John is all about protein and macros this summer." Wren referenced their football-loving older brother. I'd reconnected with him a few days earlier when moving in, and his sporty nature felt familiar to me, a blast from my high school football days. And I could well remember the battle to add muscle to a growing frame. Wren, though, was more skeptical. "I'm trying to prove a point that macros aren't supported by science."

"Good luck with that."

"I don't need luck." Wren narrowed their pale eyes. "Later, there will be chicken."

"Dinner will be ready in a bit." Jonas translated Wren's rapid change of topics for me. "Wren and I marinated some chicken and veggies for the grill before the great potato debate broke out between Wren and John."

"Is that a frequent occurrence?" I glanced toward the back stairs, half expecting a herd of more teens to show up in the kitchen. Ever since my arrival, the house had been abuzz with activity. John's football friends, including my nephew Cosmo, and Rowan's drama club friends, which seemed to involve half the school, and Wren's ever-present science experiments meant little space for peace and quiet, not unlike life in the barracks, but without the structure.

"Teen debates?" Jonas grinned at me. "Absolutely. You'll get used to it."

"Here's to hoping." I helped myself to a glass of water from the dispenser on the fridge as Wren and their textbook headed for the living room. "How did you get so good with kids?"

"By never fully growing up myself?" Jonas answered my question with a question. "That and working in the ER. I've worked any number of cold and flu seasons and summer fluke injury seasons. I see a lot of kids, and I've found that rolling with their quirks and meeting them where they are for conversation goes a long way."

Thinking about that advice, I twisted my lips and wrinkled my nose. It wasn't nearly as easy as he made it sound. "I never had much time around kids in the Rangers."

"Yeah, but you practically raised your sisters." Jonas shrugged. He wasn't wrong, and I now had a collection of nieces and nephews, including Cosmo, but I was still learning to speak fluent teen. "You'll fit in here in no time."

"Thanks." I wasn't so sure, but I wouldn't confess that to the guy who'd been pitching in ever since Eric's late husband, Montgomery, went into hospice. Jonas and Oz had moved into the basement to help and had stayed on. "And it's easy for you to say. You're practically family at this point."

"So are you, friend." Jonas clapped me on the shoulder with a large hand. For a big guy, he was surprisingly gentle, and I could see how he would be good with sick kids in the ER. He had a naturally comforting demeanor.

"How's Eric been holding up?" I asked because questioning Eric was likely to get me nowhere. We hadn't spoken much since the funeral, and Eric tended to dodge most personal talk.

"About as well as one can under the circumstances." Jonas started pulling items for a salad out of the fridge next to me. "He has good days and bad. Grief is funny. I've been trying to get him to go out more, meet people, do adult stuff like happy hour at The Heist or take up a new hobby, but no-go."

"Meet people?" I wrinkled my nose. Jonas sounded not unlike my sisters, who used "meet" as a way to soft-pedal their attempts to get me to take up dating. "You're trying to get Eric to date?"

It hadn't been that many months, so I could understand Eric's reluctance. Plus, as someone committed to singledom, I commiserated with his refusal to take Jonas's well-meaning suggestions.

"Not dating." Jonas waved away the idea before returning to putting lettuce in a large salad bowl. "He's rather emphatic that he's never trying relationships again, but he could use some non-first responder and non-dad friends. Get out there."

"You're not hoping…" I worried the inside of my cheek. Jonas and Eric had always been closer than Eric and I. I'd been closest to Sean, who'd gone to the same high school as me and played football as well. While I wanted to help Eric, I hoped Jonas wasn't motivated by something other than friendship. "Never mind. Not sure how to phrase it."

"You're asking if I'm crushing on my oldest friend?" Jonas gave a scoffing laugh that seemed genuine, not like he was trying to cover something. "No. We've never gone there. He's family, like you said. A brother till the end, but not romantic."

"And, of course, the die-hard romantic of our circle needs romance with a capital R." I rolled my eyes at him. Where the rest of us had been playing video games and hanging out at the gym, Jonas had dated his way through the LGBTQ+ student organization in between watching the most boring rom-coms of all time.

"Guilty with two failed marriages to show for it." Blushing, Jonas shrugged his broad shoulders. "And that's the main reason Eric and I would never work. I'm a romantic. I want someone to take care of, pamper. Someone to watch my silly movies with."

"Ah." Once he'd said it, I saw how off my suspicion had been. Jonas needed someone to get all gushy and mushy with. One of my army buddies had recently sent me a meme about "passenger princesses" who liked to let others handle driving. It was supposed to be funny, but I could see Jonas wanting a passenger princess of his own. "That's definitely not Eric."

"Exactly." Jonas laughed heartily. "And eventually, I'll get back out there too. I did a speed-dating thing a few months ago, but then I remembered how much dating sucks. I'd like to jump right to a settled relationship."

"Relationships are trouble." I shook a finger at him. I personally was never going there. I had a stack of reasons and examples of why I was better off alone, but I did hope Jonas found what he was looking for.

"Says you." Jonas made a go-on gesture before returning to the fridge. "And I better get the chicken on the grill soon."

"I can help," I offered at the same time John came clattering down the stairs in workout gear.

"Hey, Jonas. Hey, Tony." John gave us each a friendly wave. "Who wants to go for a run? Sean said he'd join me."

A run sounded like exactly what I needed to get my head on straight, but I'd already agreed to help. I glanced over at Jonas.

"Go run," he ordered me. "Wren and I have dinner. You can help with cleanup after."

"Deal." I pointed toward the back of the house where the first-floor suite I occupied was located. "Let me go change really fast."

In the room that still didn't feel any more like mine than any of the base housing I'd occupied over the years, I kept thinking about Jonas and his optimistic nature. He'd watched his best friend lose his husband yet remained steadfast in his belief in true love. He'd had multiple failed relationships but wanted to give it another go. I didn't understand the impulse at all. Love was a risk I simply wasn't ever taking.