Something in me softens. Leo hates me but loves my food, and I’m the only one helping him get a balanced meal. I can deal with that. “I think I have everything I need for that. And you promise he doesn’t just throw it all away?”
Easton snorts. “No. He gets pissy when he runs out. The only thing that annoys him is your crows tearing up his trash.”
Well, fuck. If I’d known the birds were going to be a problem, I might not have—no. No, I don’t even finish the thought because I love my little murder, and I don’t regret them. Even if they’re pissing off the neighbors.
“I’ll see if I can do something about that,” I lie. There’s actually nothing I can do about wild birds who have a thingfor eating garbage. Leaning back, I kick my feet up onto his lap, and he gives me an irritated look, but he quickly begins to massage my feet over my socks. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, babe.”
“Mhm.” He grimaces, but I know he’s putting on an act. The fact is, we’re a weird little family, and taking care of each other matters.
“So,” I say after some awkward silence. “Today was rough.” We haven’t talked about it yet, but I see him swallow thickly. “You good?”
“Never better.”
“Easton.”
“North,” he mimics my tone, but he doesn’t look over at me. After a moment, he shrugs and leans back, taking my feet with him. “I was scared for a minute. Like really scared. That kid looked like he was going to go into fucking cardiac arrest, and I wasn’t sure we’d be able to stabilize him before the worst happened.”
I reach over and squeeze my fingers around his wrist. “Even if he’d coded, we would have been able to bring him back. But remember, he was fine because you were able to cut him out of there. This wasn’t like before.”
Beforemeans the drowning. Easton’s first call after training. It had gone as badly as any call could go. It was a little boy, less than three years old, and the panic had spread around the pool party, and no one was able to help him before the paramedics arrived on scene.
Easton’s truck had been closest, so they beat the EMTs. He started CPR right away, but it was too late. They could never get him breathing again, and once—when he was very drunk—Easton told me that watching the EMTs take his limp body into the ambulance, knowing it was over, had almost destroyed him.
Camilo had given him two weeks off work to recover, and we didn’t see each other much during that time. He came back a little better, and I was pretty sure it had something to do with taking care of his brother.
Another thing I appreciated Leo for, even if he was never going to appreciate me.
“Anyway, the worst that happened today was getting puked on.”
“And the shit,” he says with a tiny grin.
I grimace. “And the shit, but we’ve all had worse than that.”
Easton snorts and makes a face, which I fully understand in ways a lot of people won’t if they’ve never worked this job.
Right now, we have a tally board for calls involving inappropriate things up people’s asses. There seems to be an epidemic lately, and when we get to twenty-five, Camilo’s ordering the giant five-foot sub from my favorite Italian deli at the edge of town.
I’m not exactly hoping more people put strange objects in their buttholes, but I do love a good sandwich.
“I think my anxiety is getting a little better when the calls involve kids,” he says after a long pause. “I didn’t have a full-blown panic attack when we got back, so that’s progress.”
I wish I could make that pain stop for him, but I also get it. I have my moments. I don’t show them often. I don’t like talking about my past, and every time someone finds out about my mom’s ex-husband or sees my scars, they ask questions.
It’s why I don’t like to shower in front of strangers.
It’s why I always wear T-shirts with longer sleeves, even when it’s hot outside.
And it’s why I always wear my rash guard when we take beach trips.
Easton drops my feet and twists his body, leaning against me. The pressure of his weight is grounding, calming in a way I’ve come to expect but I’m still not used to.
And this?
This is nice.
It would be nicer if Easton were my type, but I’ve always been more into the mouthy, dark-haired, doe-eyed type. Which, unfortunately, Leo fits almost exactly.
But that doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve given up trying to find anyone. I’ll live alone, die a virgin, and hope that no one figures it out after putting me in the ground.
