Falling for the Fireman. Allie Pleiter
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from the boy. When it didn’t, he added, “I had a big fire happen to me…and a friend of mine…years ago and I still jump a bit when that thing goes off.”
Chad never admitted that to anyone but George, and it felt risky to say it aloud even in his office. Still, it seemed like the best way to give Nick permission to admit that the sirens made him nervous, too. The boy said nothing, fiddling with the ID tags on Plug’s collar as if he hadn’t heard Chad’s remark.
Chad let it sit for a moment, twirling the twig he’d picked up from the floor. Nick’s guidance counselor, Mrs. Corning, had happened to be in the field near Nick during the fire drill—one of those things Laurie would have called a “God-incidence.” While Mrs. Corning’s initial report was good enough to keep Jeannie from barreling over to the school, a later call from her gave Chad reason to worry. Nick had held it together, but just barely. He’d been visibly shaken during the drill, argumentative in his next class and then quiet and sullen the rest of the afternoon in school.
“Plug howls at sirens,” Chad tried again, just to see if the boy was listening. “Can you believe that?”
Now that they’d reached a safer topic, Nick looked straight at him. His eyes were as striking as his mother’s, even though they were blue to Jeannie’s brown. “He does? He howls?”
“Like a wolf. I suppose he thinks he’s helping, but it’s really pretty awful sounding. Stick around long enough, and you’ll get a front-row seat to that show, although you may be sorry you did.”
Chad hoped he’d opened up another window in the conversation, but got no response. There was little reason to be surprised. Hadn’t he done the same thing himself? Whenever the topic of Laurie and the fire—or loved ones lost in fires, or loved ones lost at all—came up in conversation, Chad always shut down. It was just easier not to go there at all than to try and keep up some kind of “all better now” facade.
“Your mom still planning on opening up for the holidays?” That wasn’t a safe topic of conversation, either. He’d lectured Jeannie about the size of the restoration she’d bitten off. The building she chose had been vacant for almost a dozen years. Most of the firefighters encouraged her, convinced Jeannie’s shop would be an easy source of goodies once she opened, but Chad had reservations.
“Yep,” Nick replied. “She says we’ll have our own Christmas tree in our own place above the shop. I can’t wait.”
Chad stifled a sigh. Half the interior walls needed to be rebuilt, and if she did as much internet business as she said, she’d need a lot of rewiring. Given all that, Chad would put the mark closer to six months. He was trying to figure out what on earth to say when Nick quickly fixed the leash to Plug and stood up.
“Okay, we’re gonna go out now.”
So much for that opportunity. Nick wasn’t going to offer up squat about what happened yesterday at school or how he felt about it. Should Chad be glad it was over, or annoyed that he’d lost the chance to get the boy to open up? Since when did he care about getting young boys to open up, anyway?
Watching them stop at the corner, seeing Nick reach down and give the dog yet another pat, it was clear they would be good for each other, needed each other on some level. Somebody—canine or human, needed to pull the hurt out of that boy. Not that it was Chad’s place to do it—the school had counselors for that. Still, something in the shadows of Nick’s eyes grabbed a hold of Chad and wouldn’t let go, as if the boy needed to escape and Chad held the only rope. He was still standing out the window, wondering how he could have been better at helping, when George came up behind him.
“Heard it didn’t go so well yesterday,” George said, staring at Nick and Plug.
Chad ran his hands down his face. “You were right. We never should have put Nick Nelworth through the full company showing up at his school. I messed up, George, and that poor kid paid the price.” He stared after the unlikely pair as they headed down the sidewalk. A stumpy-legged hound loping happily after a gangly legged boy. Opposites, or maybe just complements. He suspected Nick took after his father in appearance, being light and tawny compared to his mother’s dark and dramatic features. He’d never known Henry Nelworth, but people spoke of the fatal car accident with great sadness. Nick’s late father had obviously been a good man, a great loss in that boy’s life.
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