Page 147 of How To Not Need You

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

“And wipe that look off your face.”

“What look?”

“You know exactly what look.”

His smile only gets worse.

Fucking firefighter. I lean into him anyway.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Jake

I’m thirty-five years old, wearing full turnout gear on a Saturday when I am very much not being paid to do so, and Liv Carter is checking me out.

Not subtly either.

She’s standing across the lawn with her sunglasses pushed onto her head and a Page & Grounds coffee halfway to her mouth, staring at me like she’s forgotten what she was doing before I walked over here.

I’m trying very hard not to enjoy this.

I’m failing.

Around me, the fundraiser has gotten completely out of hand.

What Wren described as a small community fundraiser has somehow turned into half of Seabrook crammed onto the lawn behind the sanctuary. There are tables everywhere. Natalie has enough baked goods to feed a small country. Luca is running the raffle with the enthusiasm of a man who has apparently mistaken himself for a game-show host. Harper is signing books. Page & Grounds has a coffee stall. Someone is selling knitted dog toys, and I’ve already watched three people buy one despite not owning a dog.

Then there’s us.

The station brought an engine down for the kids, which sounded like a great idea when we agreed to it.

It was not.

There are currently twelve children climbing through the cab, another six waiting for helmets, and one small boy who has asked me four times whether the hose is strong enough to blast his brother into the next suburb.

I’ve told him no four times.

He remains unconvinced.

Ben is leaning against the bumper with his arms crossed, contributing absolutely nothing.

“You could at least look like you’re working,” I tell him.

“I’m supervising.”

“You’re standing.”

“I am taking a leadership role.”

“You haven't moved in ten minutes.”

“That's what makes it difficult.”

I shake my head and look back across the lawn. Liv is still staring. Interesting. Her eyes travel from my boots, up the turnout pants, over the coat and finally land on my face.