Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(35)

He stood. “Thanks, Abby. You’ve been a lot of help.”

“My pleasure.” She held up the loose end of her project, all the knitted rows having disappeared into the ball of yarn at her side. “Now, to knit a sweater for a frog.”

“Frogs aren’t reptiles,” Drake said with a mock sneer, and Abby laughed.

“Touché.”

He left the room feeling much lighter than he had when he’d entered. She was right. He was rushing things, and Everly would come around when she felt she could. He just had to be patient with her.

So when he entered the hall running parallel to the gator pit and found Hunter leaning on the glass looking like he was either solving a complex problem or was severely constipated, he had no qualms about ribbing his friend a little.

“There you are. Was beginning to wonder if you were showing up to work today.”

“Yeah.”

Well, that was weird. Normally Hunter would quip right back.

“You’ve been MIA since the auction. I thought I’d at least see you at the gym even though you ignored my calls.”

“Wait—what’d you say?” Hunter shook his head and finally looked over at Drake.

“I said, haven’t seen you since Friday. Way to ditch the clean-up, *.”

“My date wanted to see the merchandise.” Hunter delivered the line flatly, without any of his usual attitude. Something was going on.

“What’s up with you?”

His friend was silent, staring into the empty gator pit.

“Earth to Hunter.” Drake waved a hand in front of Hunter’s face, snapping his fingers to wake him up.

“Stop it, f*ck face.” Hunter swatted his hand away with a snarl.

“Someone’s touchy. Guess your date didn’t like the merchandise?” Drake would have laughed at the expression on Hunter’s face except for the fact that it was so unlike him. He lost the teasing air and got real. “Seriously. What’s up with you?”

For a moment, Drake thought that Hunter would stay silent, that he’d just tell him to f*ck off and stalk away. But then Hunter looked over at him, and the weird light in his eyes made Drake pause. And then, he spoke.

“Why’d you stay with the bitch?”

Drake’s guts did a somersault.

They didn’t talk about Belinda. It was an unwritten rule of their friendship, and one of the only reasons it had survived Drake’s relationship with her. Hunter had moved out of the f*cking state rather than see Drake stay with her. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, but Drake knew why Hunter had done it. Still, experience had taught him that these conversations very rarely ended well.

“Why do you want to talk about Belinda?”

Hunter’s expression was inscrutable. “I want to understand.”

Desperation tinged Drake’s reply. “I’ve told you, it’s over with her. I thought we were good.”

“We are. This, I just… I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea of… being into someone so much you lose sight of everything else. I figure, I’ve never been in love but you have.”

Well, f*ck. Hunter had never, ever talked this way before. Every time he mentioned Belinda, it was about how stupid Drake was to fall into her trap, how shallow, evil, and manipulative she was. Hunter could have confessed his love for the latest boy bands and vegan cheese and Drake would have been less stunned.

“Shit. What happened to you in the last two days?”

“I always thought… no, I’ve always known there’d come a day when I’d meet someone. Someone special. And I realize now… I don’t know a f*cking thing about keeping someone like that around.” Hunter stared straight ahead.

There wasn’t a lot Drake could say right then without delving into his own relationship issues. This was—no, it was way more than he could handle at the moment. He needed a break to come up with something good to say, something profound. Hunter didn’t ask for advice. Like, ever. This monumental moment definitely needed addressing before Drake could talk about his own shit. “Fuck, I’m not awake enough for this talk. Coffee?”

“Nah.”

“Suit yourself. Let me wake up and process this. I’ll get back to you.” Drake pushed off the wall and started to walk toward the kitchen.

A huge sound, a wave of noise and movement encompassed the place. Slapping a hand on the wall, Drake felt the whole damn building shudder. His ears rang in the sudden silence around them.

“What the hell was that?” Drake looked dead at his friend.

Hunter’s face was pale and calm as he replied. “That was a bomb.”

Together, they raced down the hall and out the door. The sky was clouded by ugly, dark smoke. Nate, Kyle, and several other firefighters crowded outside to see just before Chief Donaldson signaled them.

His heart was pounding, but his movements were steady as he leapt onto the truck with the rest of his team.

It was go time.





12.

Jesse’s presence in Everly’s ridiculously clean living room showed exactly two things. One, Everly could finally indulge in some much-needed girl talk, and two, the stress of both the situation with Drake and the fact that he’d had to work at a f*cking explosion this morning had really gotten to her. He’d sent her a text, so she knew he was okay, but that was not exactly the way she’d wanted to spend her day off. Cleaning was the one way she could deal with stress in a proactive manner, so clean she had.