“It could have been a couple kids.”
Nate’s arms fold over a muscular chest. He’s a decent sized guy, definitely works out, but Brody is bigger. He’s got the muscle and height to back it up. I’d put my money on Brody winning a physical fight between them.
My gaze volleys between the two. The tension is thick, and I can’t help but think I’m the cause of it. It’s clear that Brody isn’t my biggest fan, though I’m not sure what I did to deserve it other than being the new guy. I guess some guys just don’t like to be a babysitter. Not that I asked for one. Or need it.
If Nate had to assign someone to do it, why the hell did he pick Brody?
Neither one of the men speaks. Brody glares at Nate, but the latter stands firm, looking unbothered. Like the lieutenant he is.
I may get my head bitten off, but I dare to interject. “We had a similar fire before I left Station Six. Maybe a week before. In some brush, just outside a treed area. Not sure about burn patterns but might be worth checking into.”
Brody doesn’t deem looking at me worth it, but his nostrils flare a touch wider. “See?”
“Could be totally unrelated.”
Level-headed, even keeled. Looking at it from all angles. Not quite half a day in, and I can see why Nate has made it to lieutenant. Judging by the way his teeth grind, he wants to say more, but he refrains, and again I’m left with the sense it’s because of me.
“Yo, cowboy!” Liam calls, causing all three of us to turn in the direction of the truck. He nods at the hose lying on the ground. “Come help me with this.”
Brody doesn’t give me a chance to look in his direction before he grumbles, “Go.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I’m grateful to get away from whatever is brewing between those two. When I reach Liam, he nods towards them.
“What’s their problem?” he questions.
Another uncomfortable position. It’s not my business to say, but there’s also an element of wanting to fit in. Then again, I don’t want to make an enemy out of Brody, and the guy already doesn’t like me.
I shrug, non-committedly. “Didn’t have enough Wheaties for breakfast?”
It’s not an answer, but it’s enough to let Liam know there might have been a problem.
He smirks at me, giving a nod of approval. “Alright, Dalton. Let’s get this hose dealt with. Use the cross lays, but it’ll need to be cleaned when we get back.”
Which will undoubtedly fall to me, though I don’t mind. I know I’ve got things to prove to these guys. And I will. I have to. I refuse to let my father be right about me.
Later, when we’ve got everything cleaned up, and we’re back in the truck, I pull out my phone, bringing Tyson’s message thread up.
Me:Question.
Tyson:Answer.
Me:You know that brush fire we had a shift or two before I left six?
Tyson:Hah. The one where you tripped over the hose? How could I forget?
Me:…shit. I forgot.
Tyson:Not a chance you lived it down, motherfucker. Til you die.
Me:Whatever. We had a brush fire like it today. Any chance you know if ours was arson?
Tyson:Haven’t heard anything.
Me:Do me a solid?
Tyson:I can ask around.
Me:Thanks man.
