Page 3 of Brighter Together

“I own a hotel,” I interrupt him, annoyance in my voice.

“And the building will presumably remain standing if you leave it alone occasionally.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m a carpenter. I actually do,” he chuckles.

That gets a laugh out of me.

Alex nudges my shoulder. “Take a break.”

“From the hotel?”

“Fuck no. You’d have an aneurysm before lunchtime. From being unit leader.”

My smile disappears.

“No.”

“I didn’t say leave FMR.”

“I promised Dad.”

My answer comes automatically.

My grandfather was involved in forming one of Fellside’s earliest rescue teams in the forties. Dad followed him into it and stayed a volunteer until the day he died. FMR was part of our family long before I was born.

When the hotel began taking over my life, Dad made me promise I wouldn’t give this up as well.

And regardless of what life has thrown at me, so far I have not broken that promise. Sometimes I’m not sure whether that makes me loyal or simply incapable of letting anything go.

Alex rests his forearms on his thighs. “Nobody’s asking you to break your promise. Let me take over as unit leader for a couple of months. You still come out on rescues, but I deal with the meetings, rotas and paperwork.”

“You hate paperwork.”

“I do.”

“And meetings.”

“Also true.”

“And organising people.”

He turns his head. “Do you want my help or not?”

I grin.

We joined at the same time. I was twenty-three, Alex twenty-one. Nick came not long afterwards, then Chris, Rob and Phil completed the unit over the years.

Suzie is the newest member, although she’s firmly off callouts now she’s in her third trimester. Chris pretends he isn’t hovering, but the man nearly has a coronary every time she climbs a flight of stairs too quickly.

Rob’s out as well, still recovering from the injury he picked up on a rescue last month.

Which leaves the rest of us stretched thinner than usual, making it particularly inconvenient that I keep barking at them because apparently being an arsehole is how I’ve chosen to deal with my hormones.

And they really don’t deserve it. These people are my family. Which is why Alex knows when I’m talking bollocks.

“Think about it,” he says.