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“You’d quit if you got a girlfriend?” Anders asks.
“I’m not fond of the term girlfriend, if I found someone, I’d make her my wife,” he answers bluntly.
“Whoa there, bro, girlfriend to wife takes time. You can’t go rushing into that kind of thing.” Anders laughs.
“Actually, I highly approve of the way the Barnetts found their significant others,” Knight says.
“You know that love at first sight stuff is bullshit, right?” I ask.
“Seven brothers, with seven wives and seven very happy families says otherwise,” Knight answers, turning off the water in his stall and padding back into the locker room.
Turning off my own shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and follow after him.
“You don’t seriously think that you’re just going to stumble over a woman one day and know right then and there that she’s going to be your wife, do you?” I ask, amused by the most logical man I’ve ever met, thinking that love at first sight is a real thing.
“I already stumbled over my wife,” he says, glancing at me before he continues to dry himself.
“You did? Who?” Anders asks.
“I think it’s probably good manners to tell her before I make it public knowledge.”
Turning, I look at Anders, who looks just as stupefied as I feel.
“Don’t worry, as soon as I inform her that she belongs to me, I’ll let the team know,” Knight says simply, pulling a pair of basketball shorts on to cover his junk before he drops his towel into the hamper and heads for the door.
“What the fuck just happened?” Anders asks, sounding as stupefied as I feel.
“Well, apparently, Knight has dabbled with bisexuality but ultimately prefers women. He plans to quit being a smoke jumper once he gets married. Oh, and apparently, he met and claimed a woman, he just hasn’t told her yet,” I say, sounding and feeling slightly bewildered.
The smell of rich tomatoes fills the air the moment I step out of the locker room, but I don’t head straight for the kitchen. Instead, I walk silently into the bunkroom and grab my cell from where I’d left it charging when we’d been called out. In theory, I could have kept my cell with me, but I learned early on in my career that it’s dangerous to be distracted when you’re fighting a fire.
I don’t bring the screen to life until I’m out of the room, but the moment I do, I’m pleased to find I have text messages from Etta. Clicking into the messaging app, my heart beats erratically in my chest as a surge of excitement that I haven’t felt in a really long time buzzes through my veins.
A part of me is hoping to see a stream of messages from her, so I’m disappointed to find that I only have one.
Etta: Good morning, granola and yogurt for breakfast.
The text is accompanied by a picture of one of the bowls from my kitchen, half filled with my favorite nutty granola and a few spoonfuls of yogurt over the top. It’s hardly big enough to count as breakfast, but it’ll have to do until I can be there to cook for her.
My excitement over her following my rules fades quickly because there’s no other messages. No pictures of her lunch or dinner. No messages asking what I think or questioning why I haven’t texted back. Just nothing.
Stomping into the kitchen, I take a seat at the table opposite Buck and start to eat the chicken parm that Buck reheated for me. Chicken parm is Danny’s specialty, and if I wasn’t so pissed, I’m sure I’d enjoy it, but all I can think about is Etta alone in my house, not eating, not doing as I say, not following my rules.
Anger starts to tint my vision, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from losing my fucking shit, getting in my truck, and going home to see what the hell she thinks she’s playing at.
The moment their plates are clear, Anders and Knight head to bed, leaving me and Buck alone in the quiet, dimly lit kitchen.
“Is everything okay?” Buck asks quietly.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
Buck nods, but it’s very clear he doesn’t believe me.
“Your stepsister was due to get to town this week, wasn’t she?”
He’s easing me into it, but it’s clear he thinks Etta is what’s wrong with me. And he’d be right, but not for the reason he’s assuming.
“Yeah, she got here Friday night.”
