“Of course I’ll stay over. Where else would I stay?” she asked, the last words almost inaudible as her voice broke into sobs. “Woodman . . . you’re s-scarin’ me.”
He leaned forward and cupped her face, the pain in his chest so tight and terrible, he could barely breathe, but he managed to press his lips to her forehead, his eyes burning as he touched her sweet skin.
“I love you,” he whispered. I love you so much that I’ll let you go because I can’t make you happy, baby. “And I’m sorry.”
And then, before she could say another word, he turned and—for the first time in his life—Josiah Woodman walked away from Ginger McHuid.
***
When he got back to the firehouse, every bay was open, and there was organized chaos in the ready gear room, where every man who hadn’t been hitting the keg hard, including Cain, was suiting up.
“You comin’?” Woodman asked, taking a seat on the bench where Cain was pulling on some spare bunker pants.
“Hell, yes. First night back and I get to go to a big one! Chief said he could use an experienced pipeman.”
Cain waggled his eyebrows as he said this, but Woodman wasn’t in the mood to joke around with Cain. Frankly he didn’t know how the hell to feel about Cain. With the exception of that one time, when Ginger was fifteen and he kissed her, Woodman didn’t believe that Cain had ever betrayed him. In fact, looking at things in a certain light, he had to wonder if Cain had stayed away all these years out of respect for Woodman’s claim on Ginger. As the thought passed through his mind, he felt the truth in it, the yes of it, like a light bulb going off in his head. Cain had stayed away on purpose. It made it hard for Woodman to hate him.
“Why don’t you ask me ’bout Ginger?” asked Woodman, fastening his bunker pants and looking at Cain dead in the eyes.
“She ain’t my problem,” said Cain, his face losing its teasing and excitement.
“Huh,” said Woodman, stepping into his boots, then pulling the pants down over them.
“This is a bad ’un!” yelled Scott Hayes, the Battalion Two captain. “Double-time it, men! Suit up!”
Cain and Woodman pulled their Nomex hoods over their heads at the same time, grabbed for their bunker coats, and shrugged them on.
“How’s the foot?” asked Cain as he reached for a helmet.
Woodman grabbed a radio from a charger and attached it to the strap near his shoulder. “Fine. Cleared for duty.”
Cain nodded. “But I heard all that was recent. How long has it been since you were inside a live one?”
“Don’t worry ’bout it,” said Woodman, placing his helmet on his head and hustling toward Scott. “I had the same trainin’ you did. Cleared is cleared.”
Cain looked dubious. “Whatever you say.”
“Where you need me, sir?” Woodman asked Scott.
Scott pointed to Engine Two. “Stay back for tonight, Woodman.”
“I’m good to go, sir.”
“Stay back,” said Scott again.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“I’ll follow Woodman?” asked Cain from behind him, and Woodman bristled. He didn’t need a fucking babysitter. Not tonight. Not when he already felt like half a fucking man.
To his relief, Scott said, “With me. Engine Three. Lineman. Got it?”
They both hurried into the bay, side by side, but Woodman grabbed Cain’s arm before he headed for Three.
“When we get back, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Ginger.”
“Christ, Josiah. Stop beatin’ a dead horse. I got nothin’ to say.”
“I do,” said Woodman grimly, just as the sirens started to wail.
“Fine,” said Cain, turning toward his assigned truck. But a moment later he turned back. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Always, brother,” said Woodman.
Cain saluted him with a grin and Woodman watched him go.
Watched him go.
***
“You heard about it?” yelled Logan McKinney over the scream of the sirens.
“Not much. Tell me,” said Woodman, holding on to the bar in front of him as the truck lurched out of the garage and raced down Main Street.
“Barn fire at Laurel Ridge. Heard it’s bad. They got, like, fifty, sixty horses there. No hydrants on the property. Fred Atkins called twelve more stations to assist. Overheard him say it might take twenty to get it done.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Bad, right?”
“Don’t sound good,” said Woodman.
“You been through shit like this, Woodman?”
“Barn fire?” He shook his head. “Ship fire was more my style.”
“I’ma say a prayer until we get there, okay?”
Woodman nodded grimly, watching as Logan, who’d only joined the department last year, clasped his gloved hands together and bowed his head, his lips moving in prayer.
It vaguely occurred to Woodman that maybe he should say a prayer too, but his prefire prayers had always started with “Everyone goes home,” which was every firehouse’s mantra. Everyone home. Except that Ginger had always been his home, and after he broke off their engagement later tonight, he wouldn’t have a home anymore. He’d have a cold and empty place inside, where Ginger had always lived, where he’d loved her, where she’d let him love her. Even if everyone else came home tonight, he wouldn’t. His home was all but gone.