Chapter 3

Bryson

I don’t quite understandthe fact that I just finished grocery shopping so I can meal prep, yet I’m walking into the diner in order to get something to eat. Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I take a seat at the counter and wait for the waitress to come over so she can take my order. Granted, I’ll probably get one of today’s specials, but it never hurts to check over the menu. Of course, at this point, I can probably recite it in my sleep, and despite the fact it hasn’t changed since I was in high school, I still have hope.

“Hey, Bry, what can I get you today?” Lissie asks, her pad and pen already in hand.

“Special please, Lissie. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, same old same old,” she replies, laughing. “Be right back. Dr. Pepper?”

“Is there anything else besides water to drink?” I retort, grinning.

“You should be one of their marketing reps at this point,” she teases, tearing off my order from her pad and placing it on the spinning thing at the kitchen window. I’m sure there’s a legit name for it, but hell if I know what it is, and I don’t care enough to look it up. “Be right back with your drink.”

My only vice is Dr. Pepper, although sometimes, I mix it up and get a Fresca or a Fanta Orange. Most of the time, after my morning black coffee, it’s water or sweet tea. Lissie drops off my drink with a promise that my order will be up shortly.

While I wait, I people watch and grin when I see Manny and his wife, Ricci, in a back booth. He went through hell as a teenager, being charged with manslaughter in the death of his sister’s boyfriend after that piece of shit beat her to death. I understand his mindset because I probably would’ve done the same damn thing. I’m glad, however, that he’s got not only a thriving tattoo shop, but also a custom woodworking business. Plus, he met and married a beautiful woman in Ricci. She was a domestic abuse survivor that Manny found on his property one day. As I sip on my drink, I hear the bell over the door ring and turn, nearly dropping my glass when I see who it is.

Kitten.

Ten years have passed since I saw her, then carried her through the burning school. Even though her eyes were closed since she was unconscious, I memorized her features, taking special notice of how long her lashes were, and also the elegant curve of her neck. I didn’t get to stick around to get her name, and since the scene itself was full of so much havoc, I wasn’t able to find out who she was.

But I never forgot her and I’m unsure if it’s because it was my first big fire, or because the pretty little fairy in a beautiful dress made such an impression on me.

“Hey, Jory!” Lissie calls out as she places my plate in front of me. “Whatcha need?”

“Let’s see, two of the meatloaf specials, green beans for both, and three banana puddings.”

I watch as Lissie laughs long and loud. “Let me guess, Mrs. Grey is packing Mr. Grey’s lunch again?”

“How did you know?” Jory questions.

“Because she does it at least once a month for the alleged ‘ten pounds’ he’s gained. Let me tell you something, sweetie, that man is as fine now as he was when he was my high school science teacher,” Lissie advises.

Jory starts giggling, and the sound is so infectious, I can’t help but join in, causing her to look at me. Her eyes widen in shock; she had briefly regained consciousness as we went through the school, and I realize she must recognize me.

“Hey, Kitten,” I softly say. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

Her beautiful blue eyes widen, and I hear her audible gasp when she realizes who I am.

“Are… are you the fireman who saved me?” she whispers. “Because if so, I never got to thank you for saving my life.”

Emotion courses through me at her words and I realize that day long ago, a connection was made. One I want to explore now that the beautiful teenager has grown into a gorgeous woman.

“Yeah, I am, Kitten,” I reply. “I didn’t know who you were so I couldn’t check to make sure you survived your injuries, but I tried to find out. Unfortunately, that whole patient confidentiality thing came into play. But I never, not for one moment, forgot you.”

“Thank you for saving me.”

“It was my pleasure…”

“Jory, Jory Stokes,” she hurriedly says.

I realize she probably doesn’t know my name, so I reply, “And I’m Bryson Cambridge. Again, it was my pleasure, Jory.”

Her name rolls off my tongue, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel my interest piqued. I want to get to know the woman she is today. I want to know her successes and frustrations, see her at the end of a long shift and have my shitty days wiped away by the smile I currently see on her face.

“Jory, got you all set to go,” Lissie says, interrupting my inner monologue.

“Wh- oh, thank you, Lissie,” Jory replies, holding out a card. “Mr. Grey said it’s on him today since Desi and I are helping him set up the two funerals.”

“What do you mean?” I question. “You work at the funeral home?”

She grins at me while nodding. “I do. My best friend, Desi, and I, handle the body preparation, but whenever there are several funerals at the same time, we take care of folding up the bulletins, that kind of thing. He’s got two other people who actually come in and handle the people who come for the visitation and funeral, though, and Possum Run Baptist handles bringing in the food from set up to clean up.”

Realizing I want to know everything about her, I ask, “Would you like to go out with me?”

I can see her pulse start to race in her neck as a blush comes up on her cheeks. “Um, are you sure?” she finally queries.

“I’m positive. I know you’ve got to get back to work with the lunches you picked up, so let me give you my phone number, and in return, you can give me yours. I’ll call you so we can figure out a good day and time that works with both of our schedules.”

“Okay,” she replies, pulling out her phone from her back pocket. Once she has her contacts opened, I give her my number, then I do the same.

“We’ll talk soon, Jory. Have a good day,” I tell her.

“Thanks, you too, Bryson.”

* * *

After I eat, I drop my uniforms off at the dry cleaner, then head home to continue working on my to-do list. By the time I’m done cleaning my house, I have a whole new list made, chuckling as I head into the shower to clean up for the second time today. Whistling, I go through my bathing routine, then with a towel wrapped around my waist, I pick up my trimmers and clean up my jawline, then brush my teeth and comb through my hair.

Slipping into a pair of cut-off sweatpants, I head out to my back porch, my laptop and a cold beer in hand. Time to figure out what to order to make my garden a reality. Oh, and order a chicken coop. Because suddenly, my future, which has been on rote ever since my ex-wife and I split, seems to be looking up now that I found Jory. A feeling I haven’t felt in a long time was rekindled when my eyes met hers. They say the best thing to happen in life comes when you least expect it but need it the most. I didn’t realize how much of an impact that spitfire made on me until we crossed paths again. Something in my gut is screaming at me that she’s what I’ve been waiting for in order for that spark of life to reignite in my soul.

I spend the next few hours designing the garden, positive that the extra vegetables I’ll no doubt harvest, will be taken by my brothers at the firehouse. At least, what we don’t use on site, that is, because we all like to cook. The fresher the seasoning and vegetables, the better as far as we’re all concerned. With the seeds, soil, and stakes all ordered, I start looking at the chicken coops. There’s something about fresh laid eggs that just hits the taste buds differently than the store-bought cartons, and it probably has more to do with the memories surrounding my grams than anything.

Still, I like the idea of getting back to my roots. I’ve been slowly renovating the farmhouse, and while it’s definitely too big for one person, if I have my say-so, should Jory and I get along the way I think we will, eventually it’ll be filled once again, like it was long ago when my grandfather built it.

Each board, every joist, my gramps was involved in all aspects of building this house. He helped lay the foundation, scoured the local streams to find the rocks for the three fireplaces he installed in the house, the mantles hewn from the timber he chopped himself. It’s solidly built; made to withstand the forces of nature while nurturing the people residing inside.

Finally satisfied with my plans, I input my credit card details, hit the submit button, then shut my laptop down and head inside. After I put my electronics on their respective chargers, I check to make sure the house is locked up nice and tight, then head into my room, pleasantly exhausted from all the things I managed to accomplish today.

As I drift off to sleep, beautiful blue eyes follow me into dreamland.