Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(13)

“His father was the best fireman that ever walked this Earth. Hell, the night he died, he saved an entire family before he did so.”

Harley felt a little sick to her stomach. She was terrified of the day she would lose her father, for more reasons than she could count. It was hard for her to imagine Easton without one as young as they all were.

“He’s not out there crying or anything,” Beckett said with a raspy laugh. “He’s studying it. One day, no doubt, he’ll follow his father’s footsteps, both of them will. Probably Truman, too, if I’m reading that boy right.”

Beckett said that right as Wyatt pulled up on his four-wheeler with more wood, with Memphis right behind him. Truman was approaching the fire from the other direction. They all seemed to look at it the same way. Even though their backs were to Harley, she could sense the respect from where she stood. Brotherhood.

“Wyatt wants to be a fireman?” she asked, not meaning to say it aloud.

“Oh, no doubt. What?” he asked when he saw her shocked expression. “You didn’t think he was going to grow up and be some banker, now did ya?” Beckett said with a laugh. He teased her more than anyone for coming from the background she came from. It was all in good humor, but sometimes Harley took it to heart.

“I thought he’d do this, would want to do this farm. He seems to love it.” She was guarding her words. She knew Wyatt loved the farm, loved riding. She assumed that he would do this interspersed with bouts of some kind of rodeo here and there.

“Well, darlin’, I don’t plan on kicking the bucket anytime soon. Wyatt needs something to keep him occupied until such time. Those boys right there have been connected at the hip since they were crawling across the mud. Wyatt will sign up just to make sure Easton’s safe. Memphis, he’s already on the volunteer department.”

Harley only vaguely nodded. She knew how close they all were, but the rest of this was a shock to her—and honestly, it scared the hell out of her. It already made her nervous when Wyatt rode the horses he did, but she told herself that he knew what he was doing, he knew when to bail. Knowing that he planned on embarking on yet another venture that would put him in harm’s way didn’t sit right with her.

“There’s a whole mess of kids out there. Go on now, have some fun. Camille swears you’re going to get thrown if you don’t learn to relax. I’ll holler when dinner is ready.”

He opened the door for Harley and nearly pushed her outside. He knew her well enough to know she would stall a bit longer.

At home, everyone was on a stage. They moved a certain way, said things a certain way, everything was planned out. You always had to represent your family to the best of your ability. Here, it was different. You were just supposed to be you.

That was harder than it should be for Harley. The only one she knew she was herself around was Wyatt, and that was when they were alone, when she could joke about the life she had at home, talk to him about the things she loved, laugh every time he made a point to make her smile—but she couldn’t do that out in the open, so she was always a bit odd. That’s how she saw herself, rather.

Tonight, the girls must have invited everyone they knew, or at least it seemed like that. A few of Wyatt’s cousins were there, but Trey and Blake were the only ones she’d ever really spoken to. Trey had a few friends of his from school as well. They were the youngest in the bunch, only in the eighth grade.

What bothered Harley more than anything was one of the girls that had been invited. Harley was horrible with names, even though both her parents had told her over and over it was rude not to remember a person’s name. They had even taught her tricks, like repeating the name after she was introduced, but it never worked. Harley, however, knew the name of one of the girls that were here tonight. Dorcas. And she didn’t remember that name because it was odd, she remembered it because Dorcas was clearly out to make Wyatt hers.

If she wasn’t hanging on to him, she was doing her best to suck up to Camille and everyone else in this family.

Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white. She caked on the makeup, even in the summer, and because she did her skin glowed in the most unnatural way. Every single time Harley had seen her, she had on the lowest cut shirt and the shortest shorts. Right now, she was laughing hysterically at something as she stood in-between Wyatt and Easton. Every time she touched either one of them, they would lean away.

Dorcas had her hopes set on Wyatt, but Harley was sure she would settle for any of the Doran boys. In Harley’s opinion, Wyatt was the most breathtaking, the one with the most talent, and also the first in line when it came to taking over this farm. She wouldn’t be surprised if there were hundreds of girls just like Dorcas at school after her Wyatt.

The thing was, though, Dorcas had a big mouth, was a gossip freak. She’d caught Wyatt and Harley coming out of the hayloft last summer, both laughing and covered in hay. She made it a point to say what she assumed happened in that loft, not only to them, but also in front of Camille later that day. Ava came to Harley’s defense, saying she was up there throwing the hay around—and she was—but she had left, and after she left Wyatt and Harley stole a few heated moments.

Dorcas told Harley later that day, “You need to go on home, rich girl. Leave the southern boys alone. You couldn’t handle the ride if you tried. Wyatt likes everything rough. Trust me.”