CHAPTER 1
HUDSON
“You need to get laid,”Jett calls from the couch.
This is the response I get after telling him to cool it on bringing women back to the apartment. The walls here are too thin for his nightly conquests—and I have a big day ahead. I roll my eyes at my little brother’s comment. It’s nine in the fucking morning and I am not having this conversation right now.
“That’s the solution to everything in your world, isn’t it?” I remark from the kitchen. Whatever snarky response he gives me is drowned out by the whirring and grinding of the blender as I make my morning smoothie.
“I’m just saying, you’ve lost your edge,” he says once the blender stops. He’s only half in the conversation, more absorbed in his ski racing video game than whatever I have to say. “You’re in a rut.”
“I am not in a rut,” I protest, pouring my smoothie into a tall glass. “My life might not be as exciting as yours, but atleast I don’t need to fuck a different woman every night to feel something.”
He wins the race, the screen flashes with a bigFirst Placesign, and Jett sets his controller down on the wooden coffee table. He’s made himself right at home in my small, two-bedroom apartment during the summer when he’s not in training for the next ski season. He and I have always been close, and I like having him stay with me, but this conversation is making me rethink my decision.
“Look, that’s great and all, but you also need to let loose sometimes. Get out there and have a social life. Date around. When’s the last time you hadanyaction?”
Action?I bring a hand up to rub the back of my neck, my jaw going tight. I have a social life. I hang out with the guys from the firehall. We workout together, grab beers after drill—I don’t need much more. Besides, work occupies most of my time right now. Between my on-call position at the firehall and my full-time construction gig, my social life can take a backseat. Once this next construction project is completed, I’ll think about getting back into the social scene and dating around.
“I don’t exactly have time to worry about that right now,” I remind him. “The contract we signed is going to take a lot of my attention.”
It’s not just any project. It isn’t like anything we’ve ever done before, and getting to oversee it means I’ll be able to honour our mother’s memory. That’s why it’s imperative for the meeting today to go well.
So whatever opinion Jett has regarding my dating life, or lack of one, it’s not high on my priority list. Still, his questionbrings up answers I don’t want to think about. Can you call it a ‘dry spell’ when it’s been a complete drought for years? Almost a decade?
I finish the last few sips of my smoothie and put the cup in the sink with a clink before heading to the front door. I slide my brown leather boots on while my golden retriever, Ruby, eyes me, wagging her tail.
“You’re not coming with me today, Rubes. Sorry.” Maybe it’s my imagination, but Ruby looks disappointed. She works the occasional shift with me at the firehall, and she loves it. She had such a gentle demeanour when I first got her that I had her trained and certified as an emotional support dog. She has a special way of comforting people when they need it, which makes all the difference for someone in a crisis. That, and she’s a hoe for attention. Today, though, it will be too hot to have her standing on the pavement with me.
Jett gets up from the couch and studies me with his almost black-brown eyes, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. His dark hair is still mussed from sleeping in, and I doubt he’s planning on changing out of his blue plaid pajama bottoms any time soon. He looks so much like Dad, his floppy chestnut waves. All my brothers look like Dad, except me.
I took after our mother, Cora Landry; I got her sandy blond hair that gets lighter streaks in the summer sun, her olive-toned skin that tans easily, and her bright blue eyes. I’m nothing like my tall, dark, gruff brothers, and ever since she died, I’ve felt like the odd one out of the family.
“Listen, I know it’s been years and all—” Jett pauses, thinking about his next words in a way he normally doesn’t. “But are you sure this has nothing to do with Wren?” My palms sweat at the sound of that name. I turn my wrist up to check my watch, flashing the face of it towards Jett.
“I gotta get going,” I say, placing a hand on the doorknob.
“Avoid the conversation all you want, but I’m going to continue giving you shit about it until you find a girlfriend.”
I slide my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans.
“It would be weird if you stopped now,” I say. But I don’t want to talk about my non-existent dating life, and I sure as hell don’t want to talk about the reason I struggle to connect with anyone else, so I change the subject. “Hey, I’m not going to be home until later this evening. I’m heading to a work meeting after the food drive, so can you take Ruby for a W-A-L-K later?” I spell it out because she’s listening, and as soon as I say the word ‘walk’ she’ll lose her shit. This way, she peers up at me without one singular thought behind those big brown eyes.
I lean down to give her a loving pat on her rust-coloured head. Some days, I’m convinced Ruby is the only companionship I need. She keeps me steady, grounded, even-keeled. And frankly, if I had the choice between going out to the bar or staying home on the couch with her, I’d choose her any day.
“Sure, I’ll take her to the Beck’s with me,” Jett says. “I’m heading out to the ranch in the afternoon.”
“Great, she’ll love that. Thanks.”
“You cheater,”I jeer at Cole, already standing on the corner of Main Street in front of the grocery store. “You can’t show up at the ass crack of dawn to get a head start. That’s not how this works.”
The firehall sets up an annual boot drive for the food bank, and each year, Cole and I face off to see who can bring in the most donations. We collect cash in a fire boot, and non-perishable food items in a large bin, and it feels good to give back to the community. It also feels good to beat Cole. Loser buys a round of beers, and I haven’t been on the hook yet.
Today, he’s dressed in his navy blue collared shirt with our firehall emblem on the shoulders. He’s gone with the man-in-uniform look, and he has fresh flowers he must have purchased from the grocery store to hand out to anyone who donates.
I went with a different strategy, wearing my turnout thinking the yellow fluorescent pants and jacket might garner attention. But I’m already sweating under my bulky gear by the time I join him.
As I approach, I can see that his cardboard box is already filling up.
