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I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s all right.”
“What? Tell me.”
I twisted my lips. “It’s just at my old station, we didn’t get shit medical calls. I mean, we only got, like, three a day—”
“How many do you get here?”
“Twelve? Fifteen? It’s a busy station. But the calls are bullshit. Drunk homeless guys. Crap that should be a trip to a walk-in clinic. I went on a call yesterday for a stubbed toe.”
“Well, most people are pretty fucking stupid.” She ate a fry.
“My granddad used to always say, ‘Even duct tape can’t fix stupid,’” I said, putting my straw in my mouth.
“Hmm. No. But it can muffle the sound.”
I burst into laughter and almost choked on my soda. I liked her wit so much more when I wasn’t the brunt of it.
“You know, I never thought about firefighting being like that,” she said after I’d gotten hold of myself. “It’s so romanticized. Every little boy’s dream,” she said sarcastically.
I looked into my fry box. “It is not what everyone thinks it is—that’s for sure.”
I’d questioned all my life choices in the last week. So far there wasn’t much that I liked about any of it. Reduced to a probie, paying through the nose for everything, running calls to put Band-Aids on idiots. Except this was turning out to be interesting…
“Why did you move?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I had a breakup. My girlfriend of three years, Celeste. Figured a change of scenery was due. Thought I might like the busier station. And it was getting a little too much living so close to my sisters. I realized that I liked them better when I was deployed,” I said dryly.
“The breakup her idea or yours?” She unwrapped the cheeseburger and took out the pickle and ate it first. Then she dragged the bun on the paper to scrape off the onions.
“Mine,” I said.
“And why?” She took a bite.
“A lot of reasons. The biggest one being that she didn’t want to have kids. I did. It wasn’t negotiable.”
She nodded again. “That’s a big one,” she mumbled.
There were a lot of big ones at the end. I also didn’t much enjoy supporting her shopping habit or her inability to actually work in any of the many career paths she’d chosen. She was a perpetual student, jumping from one pursuit to another and never graduating. Paralegal, vet tech, dental assistant, nursing assistant, EMT—she was the most partially educated waitress in South Dakota.
“How about you? Boyfriend, right?” I asked, looking around her living room for a photo. When I’d gone to Sloan and Brandon’s to pick up tools, Sloan had photos and art and shadow boxes all over the place. Kristen didn’t have anything on her walls. Maybe Sloan took it all in the move.
“Yeah, Tyler. He’s coming home in three weeks. Moving in. He’s a Marine too.”
I took a swallow of my Coke. “First time living with someone?”
“I lived with Sloan. But yeah, first time living with a boyfriend. Any tips?”
I pretended to think about it. “Feed him and give him lots of sex.”
“Good advice. Though I’m hoping that’s what he does for me,” she said, laughing.
Her laugh transformed her face so instantly I was immediately taken by how beautiful she was. Natural. Long thick lashes, smooth flawless skin, warm eyes. I’d thought she was pretty the other day too, but a scowl is an unflattering filter.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look away from her. “So doglets, huh?” I nodded at Stuntman Mike. He had his head on her lap. The tip of his tongue was out. He didn’t even look real. Like a stuffed animal. “You know, he doesn’t seem like the kind of dog you’d own.”
She looked at me curiously. “What kind of dog do I look like I’d own?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just had a preconceived notion about what kind of people own dogs like this. Paris Hiltons and little old ladies. Is he the reason why you started the business?” I took a bite of my Big Mac.
