Page 21 of When In Doubt

OSCAR

“You doing scutwork now?” Ryan asks as he strolls into the firehouse kitchen, a shit-eating grin on his face.

God damn it.

I knew that this was going to be a problem as soon as I picked up the flyer. Ryan moved here a year ago from Texas and as our Probationary Firefighter, he usually gets stuck with the menial tasks that nobody else can be bothered with. Including leafleting.

“Fuck off, Garcia,” I grumble.

“You should have told me you were gonna help out with the flyers. I wouldn’t have stepped on your toes.”

“Thought you were just doing the diner?” I lean against the counter I’m cooking at. I know I should just leave it, tell him to fuck off and be done with the conversation. But, for whatever reason, I need to know every detail of their interaction.

He shrugs. “Yeah, I saw the store across the street, figured I’d swing by.”

“That it?”

“Huh?”

“That’s all you did, you didn’t bother her?” Ryan’s a good guy, I know he’d never be an ass on purpose, but he doesn’t always think before he speaks. There’s something about Freya, like she’s full of soft spots that’d bruise as soon as anyone touched them.

“Jesus man, chill,” he says, holding his hands up. “How would I bother her?”

“I know what you’re like.” He’d better not have been flirting with her. He’s got a reputation as kind of a ladies’ man around town.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I’m like, since she was already spoken for.” There’s a glint in his eye that has me ready to throw a pan of cold water at him.

“Christ, you make it sound like I pissed on her porch,” I scoff.

“Didn’t you?”

“For fuck’s sake. I was in there doing my mom a favor. A knitting favor.” It’s a lie, but Ryan doesn’t need to know that.

The truth is, I wanted an excuse to see her. What my mom said got to me, and the thought of her sitting alone in the store all day kinda broke my heart.

He chuckles. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” I reply sternly, trying my best to end the conversation.

“She’s cute, though.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do? You need me to find something for you?” I ask, sounding an awful lot like my dad.

“Sure, sure,” he says, still fucking laughing. Does this kid never have an off day? “See you at dinner, man.”

I’m scraping the leftover pasta off my plate when a firm hand claps me on the back. I don’t need to turn to see who it belongs to.

“Dinner was great, Murph.” Mack’s voice comes from behind me.

“Thanks, man.”

“Can you come help me with something?”

I drop my plate by the sink and follow after him as we head to one of the storage rooms. He’s been wanting to sort through this for a while. Nobody ever comes in here because it’s become a random assortment of shit that hardly gets used.

“Come on, man, it’s seven at night.”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug, “and we’re gonna be here until seven in the morning.”