I turn my head to see one of the rookies, Oziah, hovering a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his jeans that are so tight, I can’t help but wonder how the fuck he got them on. He’s very short and very pretty for a firefighter.
I’m still amazed he passed the physical exam, though having worked with him for the last couple of months, I can tell he’s deceptively strong. But he’s the kind of twink I might have tried to pick up in a club five years ago when I was still trying and failing to lose my virginity.
“I’m not a witch. Can boys be witches?”
“I think boys can be whatever,” Ozzie says, taking a few steps closer. “I don’t think practicing magic is like…gendered or whatever.”
I shrug. I’m not interested in being a witch either. That sounds like a lot of work for little reward, which is not my thing. I am definitely a man addicted to instant gratification, which ismaybe an odd thing to say, considering I work here, and I’mstilla virgin.
Oziah finally finds the courage to reach my truck and leans his elbows on the bed. Russell meets his gaze steadily, fluffs his feathers, then settles better on his one leg.
“He’s hurt.”
“Nah. He was born that way,” I tell him. “I found him on my doorstep like that.”
“He was abandoned?” Ozzie sounds a little like that concept is personal, and I debate about asking because I do like the guy. But also, I’m not sure I want to be up in anyone’s business.
I have way too much going on to take on someone else’s trauma.
“The wildlife rescue people told me it was normal for birds born like him. They said I should let him die, but you know, I’m not a fuckin’ monster.” I adjust my cap, the brim touching the back of my neck for a second before I lift it higher. “He’s kind of attached to me now.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Russell.”
He blinks at me and clearly doesn’t get it. Fuck, I feel old, and I’m really not even that old. Barely twenty-nine, though some of the guys around here seem to think that’s geriatric.
“Russell Crow,” I tell him. “Haha. Love a good pun.”
Ozzie blinks again, and I decide to let it go.
“Anyway, so, you just coming on shift?”
“Yeah. I’m doing a seventy-two, but Easton said it was quiet, so I?—”
Before I can tell him to shut the fuck up because invoking those words is sure to cause chaos, I hear it. The call.
The alarm.
Next door, the EMTs are gone, which means no matter what the emergency is, we have to roll out.
“Shit,” Ozzie says, slapping a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting.”
I drop to the ground, throw the bed up, then sling my arm around his neck and tug him along. “Don’t worry about it. We all do it when we first start.”
He grimaces. “When Easton finds out, he’s going to fine me, and all I have left is my laundry money.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” I assure him.
His eyes go wide. “Really?”
“Really. Some people around here might tell you I’m an asshole, but I’m not. I’m a good guy.”
“He’s also a pathological liar,” Lex says, tossing my jacket at me. “Don’t believe a word he says.”
I flip him off, grinning as I shrug into it. I turn back to Ozzie. “Go clock in, rookie. We’ll chat more when I get back.”
Ozzie smiles and wanders off as Lex slides up next to me and shakes a single finger in my face.
