I helped Luna down from the back seat and opened up the back to get their things.
“You’re all pink too!” Naomi looked at me reproachfully as I set their things down on the driveway. “Dex, did you not put sunscreen on them?”
“Of course I did. But they were in the pool, and it was hard to keep getting them out to reapply.”
“And Winnie came swimming with us!” Luna said excitedly.
I flinched at her name.
“Who’s Winnie?” Naomi asked.
“Our neighbor with the cat,” replied Hallie. “Remember? I told you about her.”
“Oh, right. That’s nice.” But Naomi was distracted as she examined the girls’ faces. “We need to get some aloe on those cheeks and noses. I bet your shoulders are all burned too, huh?”
I bit my tongue.
“Say goodbye to your dad and go in the house. I’ll be in in a minute.”
One at a time, the girls came over and hugged me tight, their tiny arms wrapped around my neck. I held them close and pressed my lips to their damp, chlorine-scented hair.
“I love you, Daddy,” they each said.
“I love you too,” I told them. “I’ll call you this week and I’ll see you on Saturday, okay?”
“Okay.” They went into the house, and Naomi faced me, hands on her hips.
“Sorry they’re not showered,” I said. “They wanted to stay in the pool so long, we ran out of time.”
But she didn’t seem interested in bitching about that for once. “So how was the party last night?”
“Fine.”
“What’s Chip’s fiancée like?”
“She seems nice.”
“They got engaged fast, didn’t they?”
“I guess.”
“I heard she’s young.”
I ran a hand through my hair, impatient to leave. Naomi had always loved to gossip, and I hated it.
“Like ten years younger than him,” she prodded.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Didn’t you meet her?”
“Yeah. But I didn’t card her or anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. I don’t know why I bothered to ask.”
“And what difference does her age make anyway?” I pushed, suddenly in the mood to fight. “You and I are the same age. We knew each other forever before we got married, and our relationship still didn’t work.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Our relationship didn’t work because I was the only one in it.”
“I wasn’t here.”
“Even when you were here, you weren’t in it, Dex.” She backed away, holding her hands up. “You know what? I don’t want to have this argument again. And that’s the beauty of divorce—I don’t have to.”
She went into the house and shut the door, leaving me fuming in the driveway.
What the fuck was I doing? I didn’t want to have that argument either. I jumped into my car, threw it into reverse, and took off so fast my tires squealed.
The truth was, I wasn’t mad at Naomi, I was mad at myself. I’d hurt someone that didn’t deserve it, all because I didn’t trust myself to keep my goddamn pants zipped.
If it hadn’t been a work night, I might have found a dive bar and gotten good and drunk, maybe gone home with a hot cocktail waitress and gotten rid of this fucking pent-up aggression, but since I had to be at the station at seven a.m., I hit the drive-thru and went home alone.
I arrived at work the next morning by six forty-five, swapping places with the guy who had my position on the previous shift. Since I hadn’t slept all that well, I was tired and crankier than usual during all the chores we had to get done every morning—put out our turnout gear, check the radios and air packs, bring the apparatus outside, run the pump and emergency lighting, inventory each compartment for proper gear and equipment.
After that, it was on to station housekeeping—cleaning the bathroom, emptying the trash, vacuuming the carpets, mopping the floors, sweeping out the bay, landscaping. I never minded the work, especially since I’d much rather clean than cook. And since the rest of the guys agreed I was the worst at making the evening meal, I was often allowed to trade my kitchen duties for other tasks.
After lunch we had a meeting with the Lieutenant and then some medical training, but eventually I was able to hit the gym for a workout. It wasn’t anything big or fancy, but it was clean and functional, and there was enough equipment to punish myself sufficiently, or at least take my mind off the gorgeous girl next door.
Justin joined me, which was fine, although I wasn’t in the mood to talk. My brother-in-law had known me long enough to read the signs, but when I was done on the treadmill, he got off the machine he’d been on and came over.
“You okay?” he asked.
I shrugged, walking slowly on the belt to cool off. “Fine.”
“You haven’t said a word all day.”
“I’m tired, I guess.”
“How was your weekend with the girls?”
“Good.” My mood lifted a little at the thought of them. “Thanks again for helping with the move. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. You get all unpacked?”
I made a face. “Fuck no. I spent yesterday sweating my ass off at the pool and telling them five hundred times that no, we can’t get a cat.”
Justin laughed. “You know you’re going to get them a cat. Give it up.”
“And who’s going to feed it while I’m here?” I stopped the belt completely and got off.
“Your neighbor. What’s her name again?”
“Winnie.”
“Right. Like the Pooh.”
I thought about her bright, happy smile and girlish laugh and felt like shit again. “I don’t think Winnie is all that anxious to do me any favors.”
“Why not?”
Exhaling, I wiped my face with a towel. “I said something shitty to her yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m an asshole.” I tossed the towel in a laundry basket, then picked the whole thing up.
“True,” Justin said, following me to the laundry room. “But what was it you said?”
I dumped the dirty towels into the washing machine and added soap. “I made a remark about not being interested in her.”
“Why the hell would you say that?”
I turned the dial on the old machine and pulled the knob. “Because I am interested in her. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
I frowned. “I’m interested in doing things to her I shouldn’t, because she’s so fucking young it should be illegal.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Oh.” He seemed relieved. “That’s not that young.”
I turned around and leaned back against the machine, folding my arms over my sweat-soaked chest. “Have you talked to any twenty-two-year-olds lately?”
Justin, who was thirty-seven, shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”
“They’re young, dude. She was in fucking kindergarten when I graduated high school.”
He laughed. “Hey, I’m five years older than Bree.”