Not that he’d visited either recently. In fact, he’d been avoiding the bookstore and its neighbours since overhearing Eiley ripping into him in the tavern. He was done trying to change her mind about him. If she wanted to make up reasons to hate him, she could.
Sleazy jobsworth. His blood boiled at the mere thought of those words. The statement would have been laughable if not so infuriating: she acted likehewasn’t good enough forher, but it was beginning to feel like the other way around. She was the sharp-tongued one. All he’d ever done was try to help. And kiss her, a bit, but that had been a one off … and she’d started it.
“We might be properly busy soon enough.” Nate squinted up at the sky. “There were a few moorland fires across Cumbria recently. It could be us next if we don’t get rain soon.”
“Aye, it’s too bloody dry.” The summers had been chaos in recent years: fires started by twits who thought it a good idea to light barbecues on bone-dry grass in thirty-degree heat. Farmers stubble burning despite the regulations in place. Water rescues when people jumped into lochs only to end up with cold water shock. No wonder he was restless come autumn. Being a firefighter meant either barely having time to catch a breath or sitting around waiting for a call to come through, but never an in-between.
A wee lad with orange and black-striped face paints came to roar at him, and Warren jumped back intoFNFmode– Friendly Neighbourhood Firefighter. He wasn’t entirely oblivious to the mother’s lingering glances and intense interest as they chatted to both her and her son, showing them around the fire engine. Since she was one of the few who didn’t hate him around here, he worked his charm.
When she left, Nate jabbed him in the shoulder. “You never give it a rest, do you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Warren lied, collapsing onto a hay bale with an exhaustion he hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe hehadoverdone it recently, barely sleeping between his shifts and construction work. His brain needed an off button, but it had always been the same: noisy, unable to quiet. The only way he could sleep was if he worked himself to exhaustion, otherwise there would always be a voice in his head urging him to do more.
“How is it you’re still single?” quipped Nate with a poke to his shoulder.
Warren wondered how honest to be. Women seemed to see him as an interlude between “real” relationships. A passing fancy until Mr Right came along. Since turning thirty three years ago, he’d begun to take dating more seriously, imagining finding a person to build a home with – but it never worked out, no matter how much effort he put in. His last girlfriend had blamed his unpredictable work hours for their breakup, which was fair, aye, and when he’d tried to be more present, more open, with past partners, it was back to that old chestnut – he was too direct, too much.
It felt safer to answer with sarcasm. “It’s a mystery.”
Nate hummed. “So, are you seriously not going to indulge me, then?”
“With what?” Warren shielded his eyes from the midday sun, brushing a crumb from his jacket.
“With whatever went down between you and Eiley.”
His muscles contracted as though the mere mention of her wielded some ominous power over his body. “Nothing went down.”
“Oh, come on. I saw you two in the shop. And you stormed out of the pub after your little conversation the other night.”
“Didn’t feel like sticking around.” Just as he didn’t feel like rehashing the insults he’d overheard, even if they played on a loop in his mind.
Nate narrowed his eyes curiously, but his interrogation was suspended thanks to a wee boy wearing headphones approaching the fire engine. Warren froze when he recognised the rosy face and chubby cheeks. Sky. Eiley’s son.
He just couldn’t get away from her and that family of hers, could he?
He clenched his jaw, pushing aside the bitterness to kneel beside the lad. When Sky clutched his beloved octopus closer to his chest, Warren shuffled a few paces back, remembering how shy he’d been at school.
“Hello, Sky. You all right, buddy?” Despite the dread that came with the thought of seeing Eiley, he glanced around. It wasn’t like her or her family not to be right behind, but he saw no sign of them in the crowds.
“How’d you know this handsome fella?” Nate asked, going to pat Sky’s shoulder. Sky flinched with a noise of discomfort.
“He needs a wee bit of space,” Warren advised. “Where’s your mum today, Sky?”
Sky pointed at the truck again, then flapped his hands keenly.
“Would you like to see the fire engine?”
He nodded, sliding his green headphones down to rest around his neck. When he smiled, all gums and crooked baby teeth, Warren saw his mum’s dimples; remembered that, like Sky, they were a rare occurrence, something that had to be earned.
Something he never would see from her again.
It didn’t mean he could resist the adorable lad and all his excitement. He led Sky around to the back of the truck, where the doors were open to display the compartments and control panels. Sky’s eyes widened like saucers as he took it all in, and Warren offered out a hand: an option rather than a demand. It had taken him a lot of trial and error, learning how best to accommodate disabled and neurodivergent civilians, something that was always missed out of training days despite Warren bringing it up often, and, yes, getting labelled a jobsworth for it. He was still learning, still fearful that he might unintentionally make Sky uncomfortable.
So, when Sky put his hand in Warren’s, his arm stiffened in surprise.
“Would you like to get a better look?” Warren asked.
Sky’s head bobbled excitedly again, another sound of excitement leaving his lips.Yes.
