In fact, I knew way more about Devon than I ought to, thanks to my relationship with her grandmother Gigi. I’d been the paramedic on-scene a few years ago when Gigi fell down the steps and broke her arm. She’d had the same eyes as Devon, light-blue and sparkling, even in pain. When I checked up on her after she was back from the hospital, she invited me to sit on the porch for tea and cookies. That was all it took to make me a near-weekly visitor.
Gigi wanted Devon home for years, and was convinced we’d be perfect for each other. When she pulled out her phone and shoved Devon’s social media photos in my face, demanding I follow her, I did, because I always did what Gigi said. Besides, Devon had so many followers I doubt she ever noticed.
In the dozens of times I sat on that porch, I never bothered to tell Gigi I’d been gobsmacked by her granddaughter from the very first time I laid eyes on her, when I was a know-it-all punk just starting out as an EMT. Devon was married, so I knew enough to keep my hands and thoughts to myself, but from the second she came by the firehouse, I was drawn to her. It sounded completely hokey and woo-woo, which wasn’t really like me, but there was something about her energy, I don’t know. All I could do was wish I’d met her first.
But now she was coming back. I assumed she’d stay at Gigi’s, which was close enough to the firehouse that I was pretty much guaranteed to see her at some point. And while I’m certain Gigi would’ve loved to see a happily ever after with Devon and I, the chances of Devon sticking around long-term were probably slim. No one had—not my high school girlfriend or any after that, and certainly not my mom.
My mood darkened at the thought of my mother, and I swept it away. She deserved nothing from me, not even my thoughts.
“Sure you don’t want me to give Connie your number?” Chief was asking Will.
Will sighed. “Chief, all due respect, no.”
Chief shook his head. “You’ll regret it, but okay. When you inevitably meet her, because this town is too small for you not to, you’ll kick yourself. Be sure to let me know when that happens so I can know I was right.”
Will chuckled, a look of pure relief on his face. “Sure thing, Chief.”
“But you’re still on bathroom duty this week.”
The table erupted in laughter as Daisy came trotting in, tail wagging, no sign of scraggly Samson in sight. She made her way to us, then sat and waited, her eyes trained on me. Daisy knew she wouldn’t get attention or food scraps while we were all at the dinner table. But dogs were nothing if not hopeful, so I let her stay while we ate.
I finished my bowl and stood up, and Daisy popped up with me. “Good girl.” I leaned down to give her a scratch. She looked at the bowl and then me, her eyes wide.
I chuckled. “You can’t lick the bowl, Daisy, and you know it.”
She huffed and walked away. Because I was nice as hell and used to live with two brothers, I started tidying the kitchen as Chief and the rest of my table finished up, and the second round of guys started in.
Without a word, Mike stepped in to help me at the sink. We’d been partners almost since I started seven years ago, but he was in a completely different world than me. Married with three kids, all of them under age ten. Which, honestly? Kind of terrifying. I loved kids, but I’d never felt that urge to have them. I’d be perfectly content to be a doting uncle, but even that hadn’t worked out yet. All the Joseph brothers were single, and some would say we were notoriously so. Maybe another product of dear old Mom, or maybe we were just built that way.
“That was some good pasta, man,” Mike said. “Not as good as my wife’s, but great.”
I grinned. “Since Miranda hails from an Italian family, I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” He burped.
I laughed. “You act like that at home?”
He smiled and handed me a plate to put in the dishwasher. “Hell yeah. Little man loves it. Wife? Not so much.”
The station’s siren went off, and we instantly shifted into work mode. Mike turned off the water, and we headed to the engine bay, Will and Price right behind us.
Mike pulled his phone out and checked the info that dispatch had pushed onto the app. “Possible gas leak, male unconscious, mid-forties. Let’s go.”
I hopped into the driver’s seat of the ambulance and Mike took the passenger side, immediately throwing on the lights and siren. “Left,” he said. “Head toward the racetrack.”
I checked to make sure no one was about to walk in front of us, then punched the gas.
3
DEVON LET THE COUNTDOWN BEGIN: 5 MONTHS, 29 DAYS TO GO
I STEPPED ONTO the front porch, took a deep breath, and promptly sneezed.
Stupid summer allergies.
I’d stayed out of the southern United States these last five years for many reasons, and the pollen count was absolutely one of them. Guess I’d be swinging by the pharmacy later for some meds.
Sneezing fit over, I looked around the big front porch. Like the rest of the house, it needed work. The shiny gray paint on the floorboards had dulled and was flaking, and white paint peeled off the railing. The rocking chairs showed their age, no paint or varnish to speak of, but I knew that hadn’t stopped Gigi from using them. I could see her so easily, tiny and plump, a glass of sweet tea in her hands, chatting away to neighbors or whoever.
I cleared my throat, blinking away the tears to continue my inspection. The porch swing had seen better days, too, just like the rocking chairs. I bet the twins loved that thing. Ferns hung like sentries around the porch, lush and thriving. Clearly someone had been taking care of them, because Alabama’s midsummer heat was nothing to play around with.
I stepped off the porch and moved down the walkway, shading my eyes to get a better look at the house.
My heart hurt.
Gigi was so proud of this house. Built in 1890 by her grandparents and situated in the historic district, Gigi had been nearly fanatical in her efforts to keep me and Rick involved in the upkeep. Even though we were kids, the house was our responsibility, she said, whether it was yard work or handling minor repairs ourselves. I knew this house from the attic rafters down to the dogwoods on either side of the front yard.
I’d loved taking care of the yard, bringing the flowers and azaleas to life with care, and had handled it almost from the minute we moved in. I’d been so angry at the world for taking my parents, and once Gigi got us here from Portland, she quickly saw I needed something physical to do. Seeing as how I was crap at sports, she’d turned me toward the yard and set me free.
Now I saw what five years of avoidance had done. The white clapboards lining the house were…fine, but they needed a fresh coat of paint. Weeds had nearly overtaken the beds lining the front of the house, and where there weren’t weeds, the once-red mulch had faded to nearly white. The azaleas in the beds needed a good watering, and the spots where I’d usually planted annuals were barren.
In the years before I left, it’d been me and Rick and a contact list of handymen taking care of the inside whenever Gigi let us know something needed fixing. She was independent as hell and stubborn as a mule, though. Something told me I’d find all kinds of things that Rick never knew about.
Right now, the only thing needing attention was my desire to shove caffeine in my body. I’d found some instant stuff in the kitchen, and that flat-out wouldn’t do.
Rick had brought me over last night after dinner, even though Ceci wanted me to stay my first night back in town with them. But I’d been eager to get over here, more to face the music than anything. Of course, I’d slept like absolute shit in my old room, unable to shake the memories.
I didn’t have a car, but I knew good and well there was a coffee shop in the town square, about a ten-minute walk from here. A coffee shop that happened to be down the street from the firehouse where Jason had worked. A coffee shop now owned by Jodi, one of Jason’s sisters. Who I’d all but ignored for years.
