Chapter 1

Chapter One

Elizabeth

"Liz, would you stop trying to mess up your life?" I whisper that question as I look at my phone and then, because I'm pretty sure I'm not actually going to stop trying to mess up my life, I toss my phone onto the couch just to get it out of my hand.

So, I don't call up a boy I don't really like.

And give him a chance anyway.

And go out with him.

And fall in love during dinner.

And have a sexually charged week or so.

And then end things because I don't really like him.

And then, three or four weeks later whisper to myself that I should stop trying to mess up my life. Sometimes I whisper that like I am now, when I'm about to call someone. Sometimes, I whisper it when I see a guy eyeing me at the bar and I know he's going to come over. Sometimes, I…

All right. That's enough.

The point is I'm twenty-two years old and jaded.

That's way too young to be jaded!

But I am. A string of poor decisions where I ignore my whispered warnings puts me in a place where I'm feeling jaded.

Jaded and depressed.

I just get caught up in the romance of a situation, sleep with a guy, and figure out in a few days that we're not compatible at all. Sometimes I figure it out in a few hours. Sometimes I figure it out in the middle of sex, and I can promise you that's no fun.

There's a knock on my door, and I'm glad because I'm already considering picking my phone back up. Not consciously, of course, but I know it's a done deal and I know I'll be doing it. So, I'm glad the knocking comes. I head over to the door and I see a sweet-looking lady I don't recognize and a little boy I most definitely do.

"Joel," I say with a smile. He runs to me and puts his arms around me.

"I sit for Mr. Robertson usually. He's supposed to be home but there's a fire. He asked me…" She stops talking when her phone rings. "Hi, Preston. Yes. I'm here now. Yes. She was here after all. Hold on." She holds the phone out. "Can he talk to you?"

"Sure." I take it and say, "What's going on Fire Dude?"

He's a fireman. Yeah, Fire Dude is pretty cringe, I know. But this man is my best friend. Sure, he's about fifteen years older than me but he's been my best friend for a long time. I don't think I would have gotten through college without him.

I certainly wouldn't have been able to keep working at my job and gone to school without his support. I mean, I don't call him my best friend in some sort of flippant, look at me, I've got a guy best friend way. He's really been there for me, and it's because we don't have a romantic relationship that I can rely on him.

I mean, romance screws with my head normally.

On the other hand, I think he's the only man I've ever actually had a crush on, at least a genuine crush. The great news is that I know there's no hope at all with him, so I can keep those feelings pretty much under control.

"There's a fire, a really bad one. Martha can't watch past four. Is there… Damn, I hate to ask this. If you call in and don't work your theater shift so you can watch Joel, I'll pay whatever you would have made at the theater and also double your regular rate. I would never ask but the fire is really bad and people's life are in?—"

"Okay, deal," I interrupt, "and I would have made zero dollars tonight because the theater is being remodeled so there are no shows this week except for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. So, you owe me zero to make up for wages I won't lose. And you don't have to double my rate. I'm just getting a pizza you'll be paying for."

"I'm doubling your rate and paying you for the pizza," he replies. "I appreciate it more than you…" His words are drowned out in sirens and he finally shouts, "Gotta go! Sorry! I'll talk to you soon!"

"Go. Joel will be fine." So, it looks like my best friend (who in an unrelated way is also a sexy single-dad fireman) and his little boy are going to rescue me from ruining my life tonight.

I smile at Martha and hand her the phone. She thanks me silently and hurries away. It's already four-thirty-eight. I usher Joel inside and, well, I say that but the little guy has already raced past me and is inspecting my collection of model cars. It's the one thing my dad and I did together.

"Hey there, dude," Yikes, that word again, "feel like having some pizza?"

Joel turns around and hoots. "Woohoo! Hell yeah!"

I try to be stern but I can't help laughing. "Wow, let's watch that language, okay?"

He looks confused but nods. "Okay. Hey, can I play with some of these?"They weren't on display until yesterday. He's never seen them.

I shake my head. "These are kind of no touch things. They're just to look at. But," I quickly add because I see his face fall and I don't know how I would handle tears, "I have some Legos we can mess with."He's never played with them either.

"Cool!"

I nod. "Yup, so cool."

I really do have Legos. My dad got me into the idea of creating and building. I play with Legos when I feel stressed. Or happy. Or bored. Whatever. Legos rock, so I have a lot.

I get Joel going with a hefty container of the bricks and order pizza.

And the night, surprisingly, is uneventful. We eat and hang out and I fall in love with this smart little guy like I always do when I'm babysitting him. I'm not really a kid person, in spite of the Legos, and I'm stunned that Joel seems to actually like hanging out with me.

Eventually, though, bedtime arrives and there's still no Preston, so I have to bring up bedtime. Joel doesn't really pout or fight it much. He just looks worried. "Dad's at another big fire?"

I sit down with him on the sofa. I know what it's like to have fathers absorbed by their work. "You know, bud, I am certain that he would rather be here with you but he's being a hero right now."

Joel looks at me with big eyes. "Like Batman?"

I nod. "Um, yeah, like Batman." Really, more like Superman, but why argue?

I managed to talk him into getting into the guest room bed after I let him take one of my stuffies with him. Yes, I'm a grown woman who also has stuffies. Did I mention ruining my life and romantic difficulties. Okay, well, so I have stuffies, Legos, model cars, and more toys, too. So sue me.

I leave the light dimmed and close the door. Poor little guy. His mom is a long time gone. Preston divorced her because of her habit. He couldn't have her being around Joel like that, and then she went and overdosed months later. Preston is a terrific father, but it's been pretty rough on the two of them since. Two guys rattling around in their house alone.

I cut off thoughts of my own childhood and go turn on the TV. And yes, I'm old school that way. I have cable. I start watching some cheesy movie that has some robot alien in it or something and there's a countdown involved and I actually am getting into it, when the news cuts in.

It's the fire.

I sit and watch and my heart jumps into my throat. Holy crap, it's an inferno! The camera shows only smoke and flames and there's the sound of sirens and shouting. The guy on the scene can barely be heard.

Preston's in there somewhere. My stomach does another swooping dive, and then I'm weeping. Oh fuck! This looks so fucking bad. Where the fuck is Preston in this? I can't lose my best friend. I can't lose the guy who's been there for me through so much.

I make myself stop crying so I can try to hear more from the TV, but they just don't have much information on if it's containable or if anyone's been hurt.

A vivid image of Preston engulfed in those flames makes me start crying again, and in the back of my mind I begin to wonder, is this more feeling than I'd show for a best friend? It's a stupid thought but I can't shake the sense that the thought of losing Preston feels like the possibility of a massive hole ripped into my soul.

A hole as big as the one left by my dad and bigger than any other guy in my life.

I know the feeling of loving someone, I do.

My tears just won't stop.

I can't lose him.