Page 8 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

When it was all said and done, I climbed into the jump seat. Tony slid into the front passenger seat. He was our lieutenant. Recently promoted which meant he was elevated to the officer’s seat.

Matt, our engineer, slid into the driver’s seat. He was still humming a Christmas carol.

We pulled away, and the second we were out of sight, I picked up the candy cane, snapped it clean in half, and tossed both pieces out the window.

Matt gasped like I had kicked an elf. “What the hell, man? That was a gift.”

“It was a piece of sugar shaped like a cane. Calm down.”

“It was a symbol of their gratitude!” He was grinning, but he still sounded half-serious. “Dude, you’re such a grinch.”

“Bah humbug,” I said flatly.

He shook his head, laughing. “I know last Christmas sucked, but you can’t keep doing this. You can’t let her ruin the holidays forever.”

My jaw clenched. “Don’t.”

“No, seriously, Coop. Getting left at the altar was brutal, I get it. Nobody’s saying it wasn’t. But that bitch doesn’t get to keep poisoning your life.”

I stared out the window, watching the blur of holiday lights pass. “Bah humbug,” I repeated.

He sighed. “One of these days, I’m gonna make you wear an ugly Christmas sweater, and you’re gonna love it.”

“One of these days, I’m going to strangle you with an ugly Christmas sweater.”

He chuckled but turned his attention back to navigating the truck down the suburban streets. I let the cold air from the cracked window sting my face, anything to drown out the faint echo of Christmas music still ringing in my ears.

Then the radio crackled.

“Engine Three, copy,” came a familiar female voice. It was my sister, Katrina, working dispatch tonight. “We’ve got a fire alarm activation at Maple Grove Elementary.”

Matt perked up immediately, straightening behind the wheel. “Copy that, dispatch, Engine Three en route.”

I grabbed the mic. “Elementary school? You sure that’s not just a prank?”

“Alarm panel’s showing multiple detectors,” Katrina replied. “Not a drill. Get moving.”

Matt flicked on the sirens and put his foot down on the gas. Cars pulled out of our way, inching down the shoulder, and Tony and I started pulling on our turnout gear. I kept an eye on the horizon for smoke as a tightness formed in my gut. All three of us shifted into focus mode, our minds all thinking the same thing.

Kids.

“Faster, Matt,” I said.