ChuckShurley: I don't think you should…
Before I could reply, Bun and Reg leapt on top of him with their words, demanding to know why I shouldn't. That turned into them accusing Chuck of not taking their advice seriously because they were women, and then Reg just started posting Maya Angelou quotes.
I liked the quotes, but now I had a choice to make.
Whether I liked it or not, I'd made the choice with my heart by liking Nash too much. This had been my decision, the flirting lessons, but it took me seconds into our first one to forget Zach existed entirely. It wasn't about my crush on Hot Neighbor, if I could even claim to still have one. Nash didn't have a hard time remembering me no matter where we bumped into each other.
I'd started this, and now it was time to do the responsible thing and finish it.
***
The Walkerton station wasn't a long walk from my apartment. Nothing was a long walk within city limits. It might have taken an ark to get here, but the walkability score once in Walkerton was through the roof.
I spotted the station at the end of the street. The wide bay doors were closed, acting more like a display case for the gleaming red trucks within. I didn't see Nash's vehicle. I didn't even know if he was expected at the station today. After deciding the most mature course of action would be to return the clothes he'd let me borrow, I'd quickly chickened out, looking for any option that didn't include telling Nash to his face that he didn't have to teach me anything more.
I was probably making too big of a deal about this. Maybe Nash would be relieved that he'd been let off the hook.
I peered inside the main door. There wasn't an office or anything, just a small empty lobby space. My fingers shook as I pushed the door open. "Hello?"
I heard someone moving around further in, maybe in the garage area.
"Nash?" I hugged the bundle of clothes to my chest. "Is someone here?"
"Nash isn't here," a man said. I spun around with goosebumps on my arms.
"You scared me." I patted my chest right over my pounding heart. I recognized the fireman from the day before. He wasn't the chief, but the one who had worked side by side with Nash.
He stuck his hand out. "Sorry about that. Name is Charles. I'm new here."
"New to being a fireman?" I asked. He had some gray peppering the temples of his black hair. I always enjoyed it when people discovered their calling late in life. It gave me hope.
"No, just new to Walker County. I was a fireman in Monterey where I lived."
"No way! California? I grew up in Monterey!" For as popular of a tourist spot that it was, I didn't meet too many people who had spent a lot of time there. Way out here, we were only two states away, but it felt like the edge of the world.
"Really? It's nice to meet you, Phin."
I frowned, and he added. "I overheard your name at the party, and then yesterday."
He was at Riley's too. Now I remembered where I'd seen him. "Yeah, definitely. Nice to meet you."
His green eyes sparkled. There was something familiar about the shade, like grass at the beginning of spring. He was older, maybe in his fifties. His blue Walker County FD shirt strained over his chest and biceps. A silver fox if there ever was one, except he wasn't quite silver yet, just going that way.
"What brought you here?" he asked
That was a hard question to answer. Thankfully, I had a script. "I went to college in San Jose and stayed there for a bit after graduation. Since then, I've been looking for a place to settle. Spend some time in Sacramento, a bit in San Francisco—before it became clear I wasn't rich enough. I'm a bit of a nomad."
Charles sat down at the black leather couch in the lobby area, and I copied him, suddenly exhausted. This was how I normally felt around people, like every word took Herculean effort. But Charles was just trying to be nice. Clearly, Nash wasn't here.
"I understand you there. Monterey was just as bad by the time I left."
"What prompted your move? This place is pretty different from what you're probably used to."
Charles laughed good-naturedly. "Extremely. My daughter convinced me."
"Oh really? How old is she?" He hadn't had anyone with him at Riley's party. But then, I guessed it would be weird to go to a party with your kid.
"She's about your age, actually. And no, she didn't come with me." He laughed. "Maybe I should've taken that as a sign?"
I smiled right as the door opened and Nash walked in. His hair was wet, and he had a gym bag slung over his shoulder.
My belly flopped at the sight of him, and I stood, forgetting the clothes I'd been hugging. They fell, and I bent over, scrambling to pick them up.
"What's going on here?" Nash asked. He dropped his gym bag and came to my side, looking at the clothes with a wary gaze.
"I needed to talk to you," I rushed to say. "But, um, I…" I looked to Charles. I hadn't planned on having an audience when I did this, and it was throwing me off.
"Say no more…" Charles stood, throwing his hands up in front of his body. "Two's company, three's a crowd. I've got some stuff to do before we switch shifts anyway." He disappeared through the door that led to the garage.
Nash watched him go, prompting me to do the same. When he was gone, he turned to me. "What did you need to tell me? And why do you have those?" He fingered the hem of the shirt I held. What had I come here to do? Suddenly basking in his presence, I couldn't remember.
"Charles is from Monterey," I blurted, buying time.
"Really? I didn't know that. Is that why you came down? Why do you have the clothes I gave you?"
Unlike me, Nash couldn't wait to get to the point. Good. This was good. I should take his lead and get it over with. "I need to give them back." I thrust them toward him, but he didn't take them from me.
"No you don't," Nash said, pushing the clothes and my hands back toward me. "They were a gift. You might want them for our next lesson."
"I don't think we should do any more lessons."
Nash froze, his hands clenched, falling to his sides. "Why?" he asked right before an alarm rang loudly. "Shit."
"An emergency?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm on shift. I've got to go. Keep the clothes, Phineas. We aren't done."
But we had to be. Not because I wanted it, but because this was the safer, kinder option.
Charles ran by, having changed into his gear. "Are you coming?" he asked Nash.
"Right there," he barked back before turning to me. "I mean it. Take the clothes with you. They're yours. I'll call you later, okay?"
"I—"
Nash frowned. "I have to go," he whispered.
"Go, it's fine. Everything is fine. Go." If I kept him here arguing over a pair of shorts and a shirt, then people might really get hurt, and it would absolutely be my fault.
He hurried into the garage, his gym bag forgotten. The bay doors had already opened, and I went out to the sidewalk, waving bye like an idiot. Nash gave me a short, worried wave through the window before speeding down the street.
I'd come to do the right thing, gotten confused, and now I didn't know what had happened. But I knew Nash wasn't going to let me move on quite so easily.