“To us,” I say and place my free hand over Jameson’s at my waist as I toss the shot back. We stand around the kitchen island and do a few more shots before Jameson walks off in search of Hennessey. He says they have something to discuss and kisses my cheek as he goes.
Royal and I slip into a conversation about my plans for grad school—or lack thereof. I try to sound confident and sure of myself, but I don’t think I pull it off well. I’m almost twenty-two and have no idea what I’m going to pursue as a career. I’m considering this next year a gap year, working at my dad’s company before deciding on my grad school plans.
“How’s the firehouse?” I ask, trying desperately to change the subject. Royal, just like her brothers, spent some time in another house on Engine before finishing training for the ladder company that most of the Hayes firefighters have called home. She’s tall like her brothers, but her muscled frame is still very feminine. There’s absolutely nothing feminine about the men in her family. Janet confessed to me once that she worries about Royal being on the job. It’s so male-dominated, and aside from the fact that Royal is her baby, she’s also very lean and often isn’t taking seriously. My girl kicks major ass and works twice as hard as her peers, accomplishing her goals in record time.
“It’s hard,” she admits. She lowers her voice just slightly and looks around as though she’s afraid to admit it aloud. When I met Royal, she had just graduated from the academy and was about to start on Engine in a house full of jerks that was widely known to be unaccepting of female recruits. She knew she wanted to serve at Ladder Company No. 1 just like her brothers do and their father did before he retired. “I thought all my training would make it easier, ya know? I’ve always been athletic. I busted my ass dancing in high school and learning martial arts at the community college. I want this, but I hate how hard it is.”
“What’s hard about it? I know the physicality of it must be trying, but what about the rest?” I like to think of us like sisters in a way. I’ve always been able to share things with her. I just haven’t always chosen to.
“Everything. I thought that when I earned my transfer sooner than anybody else ever had—breaking a fucking FDNY record—that I’d get a little bit of respect, but the guys are dicks. One guy insinuated that I’d slept my way to getting my transfer approved. It’s a total boys club—not as bad as the last house—but half the crew doesn’t want a woman on shift and act like I’m there to cook and suck dick.” I can’t stop the snort that escapes me. She narrows and then rolls her blue eyes.
“And the other half?”
“You’re looking at ’em,” she says as she looks over my shoulder. I turn back to see her three brothers standing around and chatting. They keep eyeing us curiously before they shuffle farther away from us. They’re talking about the thing they refuse to talk to me about.
“Anyway,” she says, “I’m done whining.” She pours us two more shots, and we raise the glasses in a toast.
Bailey and Rae walk up hand in hand. Royal smiles and pours them each a shot and slides them over to them.
“What are we drinking to?” Bailey asks. Rae nudges her and leans in to whisper something in her ear that causes Bailey to side-eye me. A large smile brightens up her face.
“Seriously?” The approval in her voice isn’t lost on me.
“To finally bagging your brother,” I say and give both Royal and Bailey a huge grin. They grimace at my choice of words. Even Rae turns her nose up at me. I raise my shot glass, and they all follow suit. We toss them back and take a moment to absorb the alcohol.
“How are you doing?” Rae asks. She places a hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture. It doesn’t really help calm me down. Everybody is always offering comforting gestures, and at this point they just don’t help. Bailey gives Rae a warning look. Nobody’s had to say it aloud, but I know they’re not supposed to be bringing it up. Claire ratted Jameson out when we were in the study. He sent everyone a text telling them not to mention it to me and to act like everything was normal because I need some downtime from the trauma of the last few weeks’ events. I appreciate the effort more than he could possibly know, but I wish he could understand that even if nobody brings it up, I’m always thinking about it. All the time.
I toss another shot back and shudder as the hot whiskey slides down my throat. “Fine.”
“What’s that about?” Claire asks as she approaches. I just shake my head and grab the bottle and pour each of us a double shot.
“I’m so not drunk enough for this conversation.”
“Then let’s remedy that, shall we?” she says.