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Da
Her small smile felt like sun he hadn’t seen in months. “I say let’s go for drinks, but we need to call your dad first. I don’t want him to worry.”
“Ahh, I got one of those mobile phone things in my truck,” Chester gloated. “Feel all James Bond-ish. Call your pop, and we’ll catch up. You look like you could use a talkin’ to, and you know I can only give advice in my office.”
“Your office?” Julie’s brows arched.
“Yeah, Julie girl, my office…you know, my bar. But since we’re a long ways from there, any bar will do. Just need a couple a drinks, and our boy won’t know the difference.”
The heavy laugh that left Da
“Follow us,” Da
Safely tucked in the Ranger with the engine idling and the heat blowing, Da
The statement sounded simple, but he was so incredibly touched by her actions. Over the past few days—he’d lost count of how many—he’d been a wasteland, a void. And while Julie was grieving with him, sharing in his pain and feeling her own loss, she’d still managed to pack his suit before they’d left Baltimore, organize the funeral, keep him fed, and contact someone who was extremely important to them both.
“Yes, Da
Da
As if she could read his thoughts, her cool palm cupped his chin, keeping their eyes co
For the first time since receiving his father’s phone call, he felt her kiss. Christ, it felt good. More, he needed more.
Honk! A horn blared behind them. Chester’s Jeep rolled up to their side, and he motioned for Da
###
“IS IT POSSIBLE to still be hung-over?” Da
“Anything’s possible with the way you and Chester drank the other night.” Julie rubbed his thigh with her right hand while keeping her left on the steering wheel.
It had been two days since Neal’s funeral, and while the pain was razor sharp, Da
When they’d gotten to the bar after the funeral, Chester opened a tab, ordered tequila shots and a couple pitchers of beer, and told the waitress to “keep the drinks coming till the pretty boy either passes out or pukes.” While most of the conversation from that night had been coming back in dribs and drabs over the past forty-eight hours (due to the puking and passing out), there was one part Da
“Hey man,” Da
“Yeah, boy, I do. Why?”
Da
“What are you saying, Dan?” Chester’s brow arched as he filled their glasses with beer.
“I’m saying I know I can walk outside and get hit by a bus tomorrow. Can have a weird accident and die. But I’d rather take those chances than continue doing a job that feels more like a familial obligation than a labor of love. Not when I’m putting her happiness on the line every single day.”
It may have been the ridiculous amount of tequila ru
The rest of the night disappeared down the toilet and into a black haze. According to Julie, the waitress had more than earned the generous tip she received. Chester phoned in his good-bye from his mobile early the next morning while on his way home to Laurel.
Now Julie was driving them home, and Da
Surprise worked its way over his wife’s face. “Babe…” Julie sighed as she flipped on the turn signal and pulled over to the side of the quiet road. “Sweetie”—her clear gray eyes searched his—“this isn’t a decision you should be making right now.”
“It’s not,” Da
Julie cocked her head, utter confusion on her face as well as in her tone. “Dan, are you kidding me? I get sick to my stomach every time you leave for work. I vomited for the first few months after you left our house.”
What the hell? How had he never known? Why had she never told him? “Julie, you never told me any of that. Why?”
“Because it wasn’t your cross to bear. You run into burning buildings, and your goal is to get in and get out as fast as humanly possible while saving lives and containing the fire. The very last thing you need is having my fears on your back. So I do what all of the other spouses do—I cry with fear when you leave and with joy when you come home.”