“What about building things?”
“Ma’am—”
“Ruby, please. You make me sound older than I am with that ma’am rubbish.”
My lips form a thin line for a moment, but I tip my head in acknowledgement. “Ruby. All due respect, what’s this about?”
Delight shines in her eyes, like she’s been waiting for me to ask. “I’d like to offer you a job.”
Jerking my head back, I bark out a laugh. “A what? Ma’a—Ruby, I have a job.” My arm sweeps out to the fire station.
“Right. But you don’t work every day, and I don’t need someone every day. Just some days. A strong man who knows their way around fixing things and isavailable,” she says, and I don’t miss the slight pitch in the last word or the double meaning behind it.
“Doing what?” I ask, running a hand through my hair. It’s sweat soaked, and I wipe my hand off on my t-shirt, realizing it’s futile to try and unplaster it from my head.
She clasps her hands in front of her, but quickly releases them, as though it bothers her wrist. “I need a handy man. I have a long list of things that need to be done around the property, in and out of the house, and no one to do them.”
Bryn immediately pops into my head, and for one second I entertain the idea. The thought of being back in her orbit for more than an evening at 10-42. Of being able to see her more. Sure, I followed through and got a tattoo for her, and have zero regrets about it, but post-tattoo me also recognizes that the new ink probably isn’t going to change her mind.
Yet.
“And you want me to be that guy? Why don’t you hire a company?”
Ruby shrugs. “I don’t trust companies.”
“Why would you trust me?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
Her eyes drift to my biceps, and she doesn’t hide the nod of approval. “You’re a firefighter. They’re very trustworthy.”
Bryn definitely takes after her grandmother rather than her parents, if that comment is anything to go on.
She pauses, looks over her shoulder at the rest of the group, and then steps towards me, taking my arm. For an older lady, she’s strong as she pulls me further from the group. This has bad idea written all over it, but I’ll admit I’m curious.
“Plus, Bryn trusts you.” We walk a few more steps, crossing into the grass at the front of the station. “That’s enough for me.”
“Does she know you’re here offering me a job?” I inquire, already having the inclination that Bryn doesn’t.
“You let me worry about her.”
“Ruby—”
“I am but a meddling grandmother who knows hergranddaughter very well,” Ruby says, patting my arm with her good hand. "She’s not herself.”
I come to a stop, and Ruby follows. Looking down at the woman, my eyebrows pull together. “Is she okay?”
“I fear not,” Ruby responds, her lips pulling downwards against the wrinkles in her face, and I know the frown she wears isn’t natural for her. “But I think she’s convinced herself of certain things and doesn’t know how to stop thinking them.”
My mind immediately drifts to our conversation on the beach and how she was conditioned to believe she was hopeless. Absently, I rub my chest, the itch from the healing tattoo roaring to life.
Ruby turns her body fully towards me, releasing my arm. “I saw the difference in her when the two of you were going out. She had color in her cheeks, and she glowed when she talked about you.”
My chest constricts at that. Bryn telling her Gran about me. I wonder all the things she might have told the woman standing before me, and all the things she might have said if we’d continued.
“I see the same light in you. I’ll admit, I was nosy and watched you two in the driveway.” Ruby doesn’t look sheepish about the confession in the slightest. Probably because she knows I caught her multiple times. “You care about her.”
Considering the honesty this woman is giving me, I give her the same courtesy with a nod. Bryn is a part of every waking thought, and every fitful, dream-filled night. She’s the first thought when I wake up, and the last when I go to bed.
I’ve always found it hard not to think about my future. It’s what got me this far.
