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“Mom told me about your project, and I thought I’d come by and offer my assistance.”
“Great. Can you help Jay pull the rest of the lumber off the back of his truck? He’s not complaining, but I know his arms have to be screaming.”
“Sure thing.”
Jay was the firefighter who got caught in the fire on the mountain with Mike. The two of them had to take cover in their fire shelters when the flames overtook their positions. It consumed them. Mike didn’t survive, but Jay did. Barely. He was flown to the University of Tennessee Medical Center and placed in a chemically induced coma while his body healed in the burn intensive care unit. He had to be intubated because of the damage the smoke inhalation had done to his lungs and underwent multiple skin grafts over seven months.
Corbin was a wreck. Anytime he wasn’t on duty or helping Anna navigate the next steps for her and her newborn, he was in Knoxville, sitting by Jay’s bedside and being a rock for his wife.
Jay returned to Valley Fire and Rescue once he was released from physical therapy, but he’s only able to perform light duty around the firehouse. He doesn’t ride the engine any longer, and I know it kills him every time the siren sounds and his coworkers head out without him.
The respect I have for my brother and the selfless job he does is immense. That respect extends to Jay and every man and woman who works with them.
I find Jay struggling to unload sheets of plywood. He’s never regained full strength after the fire. His upper body muscles were affected the most. I hurry to his side and take the weight from his trembling arms.
“Hey, Weston,” he utters.
“What’s up, bud?” I mumble as I exaggerate the strain of the load.
We carry the sheet over to the tarp that is spread underneath the river birch in the front yard and drop it on top of the others.
“Thanks for the help,” Jay says as he wipes the sweat from his brow.
“I came to pitch in, so put me to work,” I tell him.
“Let’s finish unloading the truck, and then we’ll get on a ladder and help hold these beasts up while the guys secure them in place,” he instructs.
“You got it.”
We work in unison for the next few hours as snow flurries begin to fall from the evening sky and a dusting of white powder coats our progress.
Just as Corbin calls it a night and instructs everyone to meet back at The Hot Little Biscuit in the morning, Anna’s car pulls into Brandee’s driveway.
She waves as she opens the back passenger door to free Kaela from her restraints.
Brandee opens the other door and retrieves a stack of pizza boxes.
“Do you need any help?” I call to them.
Brandee kicks the door closed with her heeled boot. “We got it,” she yells back.
Corbin’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Wanna go by the brewery and grab some grub with me?”
His woman, Maxi, bartends at the Appalachian Ridge Brewery in the valley. It’s the local watering hole, where we spend a lot of our free time eating and drinking.
“Maxi working tonight?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“I’ll drive.”
Anna
Ibathe Kaela and get the two of us into our pajamas, then set the pack ’n play up in the middle of Brandee’s living room. I nurse her before anyone arrives and have her tucked in the playpen with her blankie and a couple of toys when the doorbell rings.
Erin, Jena, and Ansley come in, carrying bottles of wine and a pie box from the local bakery. Taeli and Isley arrive next with a tub of vanilla ice cream from the creamery.
“Is this everyone?” Brandee asks.
