Page 2 of Embers of You (Amity #1)

Jameson

“Hey Chief,” my coworker, Parker, says sarcastically as I walk in for my shift.

“Shut up, I’m not the chief here.”

I adjust the heavy bag slung over my shoulder, its weight a familiar presence as I make my way toward my locker.

I spin the combination lock and pull open the door, the metal creaking slightly.

I shove my bag in, and take a deep breath, knowing the next forty-eight hours of my shift will be unpredictable.

I just got back to Amity a couple of months ago after being away for the last ten years. During that time, I became the fire chief in Tampa where I moved when I was twenty-six and wanted to get away from this small town.

Then my life got flipped upside down with a single phone call from my mom, and I knew I needed to come back to be here for her.

Even though she insisted I didn’t need to uproot my life and move.

My dad still hasn’t forgiven me for leaving in the first place, and it seems like he couldn’t care less that I’m back.

But I didn’t come back for him. I came back for her.

She’s the reason I voluntarily stepped down from chief back to a firefighter, and my sudden return back to the station I started my career at as soon as I was able to.

The biggest adjustment to coming back here in comparison to Florida is that since we’re a slower station, we work forty-eight hours on, ninety-six hours off.

Back in Florida it was twenty-four on and forty-eight off.

“Not yet,” Parker says, following behind me. “Old man Gary will retire soon, and you’ll take his spot.”

I shrug. “I don’t even know if I want that again, it’s kind of nice to not have as much responsibility.”

“Suit yourself. Though I’m sure you’ll miss having that nice cushy office job.” Parker slaps my shoulder before walking back out into the common area of the station.

“I like being a part of the action.”

I go out to the common area with him, the familiar hum of the fire station’s daily rhythm filling the space.

I notice three other crew members are doing various activities ranging from laying on the couch, cooking, and organizing equipment.

Some of my coworkers are meticulous when it comes to how the equipment is arranged.

Josephine, or Jo as we call her, always likes to make sure everything is in perfect order.

She’s also notorious for hating how Gerald on the other shift has all the gear set up.

It’s probably one of the longest running feuds I’ve seen on the job.

“Did you hear about the newbie in town?” Parker asks from the couch. He’s the youngest at our station, only twenty, and always likes to know what’s going on around town and sharing with the rest of us. Even if we don’t care. Especially me.

“Girl or guy?” Dave asks from the kitchen.

“Chick,” Parker answers easily.

I go into the kitchen to grab some water and try to tune out this conversation because I really don’t need to know about some new girl coming into town. I have enough to worry about.

“Heard she’s working over at Trish’s place and looking for a place to stay. Maybe I should go over there and offer up my bed,” Parker says, and I know he’s joking, but I throw a towel at his head for it.

“Don’t be a douche, Parker, show some respect,” I scold him.

He holds his hands up in surrender, but he’s still chuckling.

“This is why you’re single,” Jo calls from the other room. She’s the only woman on our shift, and I know it can be annoying dealing with all this testosterone all the time.

“I’m single by choice,” Parker announces, which results in a few different reactions. Mostly chuckles, snorts, and various mumblings. “Okay, fuck you guys,” Parker snaps.

We all laugh as Parker storms off somewhere. He’s young and still so immature. He has a lot to learn in life, but I don’t doubt that if he sticks around here with this group that he’ll end up okay.

I’m exhausted by the end of shift. I never sleep well at the station, I’m always on guard for a call and one would think I would be used to it after years of doing this job, but it still affects me.

When I pull up to my parents’ property, the familiar sight of the old farmhouse puts me at ease.

I swing my car door open and make my way up the creaky porch steps, the screen door clicking as I push it open and step inside.

The house smells like home—freshly baked bread, a hint of lavender, and that comforting, warm scent of wood and dust. As I make my way further into the house, I find my mom wiping down the kitchen, and I furrow my brow at her.

“Ma, what are you doing?” I say softly, stepping closer.

“Hi, sweetie, I needed to move around. I was going crazy just sitting.”

“You’re supposed to be resting.” I gently take the rag from her and try to lead her back to the living room.

“I feel like I’m always resting Jameson.” She sighs.

“As you should be, considering you’re going through chemo.”

She waves me off like what I’m saying is ridiculous.

That’s the reason I came back, though. She was diagnosed with stage three ovarian cancer, and even though the doctors gave her a somewhat positive prognosis I just knew I needed to be back to help her.

She has my dad, but they live on a large property with a lot of farm animals.

Even though my dad and I are barely speaking I know he needed the help as well.

Once I have my mom settled on her recliner, I go back into the kitchen to get her some water.

“What else do you need, Ma?” I ask after I hand her the glass.

“My son to get married and stop worrying about me so much.”

“Glad to hear your sense of humor isn’t affected by your medication.”

“I’m fine, I can get whatever I need myself, and you look like you could use a nap. Rough night?”

I shake my head. “No, it was fine, I just prefer sleeping in a real bed compared to a cot.”

“Understandable. Go get some sleep, then you can cook dinner tonight since you want to be so helpful.”

I chuckle before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Bye, Ma.” I head out to walk down to the guest house on the property that’s been mine since I was a teenager and wanted more space.

I had to renovate it quite a bit, which my parents told me if I did then I could have it as my room.

There wasn’t a better motivator as a sixteen year old kid who had dreams of sneaking girls in and throwing secret parties.

Both of which I did once it was done, of course, but now it’s just nice to not have to constantly face my dad’s disapproving glare.

After my nap I work on some projects around the property, cleaning the horse stalls, and making note of the various repairs that need to be done to the barn. I feed the cows and goats before heading back to the main house to do what Mom said and make her dinner.

I cooked some simple barbeque chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. Mom tries to encourage conversation between Dad and me, but it goes nowhere. Just as it always does.

Dad grunts in response to me and doesn’t ask anything about my life. I can see how it wears on Mom, and I wish it could be different, but I can’t force him to forgive me or at least pretend for her. I’ve tried.

After dinner I realize I left my bag at the station because I was so tired I completely spaced out. I know I should just wait to get it on my next shift, but it has my toothbrush and toothpaste. I can’t stand the feeling of going to sleep without brushing my teeth, and I don’t have a backup.

My parents might, but at this point I would rather drive back into town than deal with the possibility of an awkward confrontation with Dad again.

With that, I go to my truck and drive back to the station. It’s already pitch-black outside with the street barely lit by the dim street lamps.

I do my best to sneak inside without drawing attention to myself because I know the rest of the guys will give me shit for coming back. They know how meticulous I can be about things and admitting this would be the perfect opportunity for them to give me shit.

Luckily, I make it out without anyone seeing me.

As I’m walking back to my truck, I see someone I don’t recognize standing by an old looking Jeep in one of the parking spaces at Trish’s.

That must be the woman Parker was talking about.

I’m about to get into my truck when I notice she’s just standing at the driver’s side door, and it looks like her head is against the window.

I can tell something’s wrong, so I go over to check on her because I doubt she wants to be standing in an empty parking lot in the dark in a place she doesn’t know.

“Hey,” I call softly as I approach to not scare her.

She lifts her head before turning to face me, and I feel like I just got smacked in the face.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t to come across the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I’m not a dramatic man, either. She’s extraordinary.

Her chocolate brown hair whips around her shoulders.

Her eyes shine with unshed tears. Plush lips, straight nose.

She looks younger than me, probably mid-twenties, but she looks tired, and not just from lack of sleep.

There’s something about her that just seems exhausted, and it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and give her everything she needs from here on out.

The compulsion is so powerful it almost knocks me back. I’ve been attracted to women before, obviously, I’ve dated in the past. But it has never felt so strong, so potent, and it makes me want to shut it down because it scares me at the same time.

“H-hi,” she stutters as I approach, and her voice is almost melodic, and wraps around me with just the one simple word.

“Are you okay?” I ask once I’m closer to her. Even in the dim light I can see that her eyes are green, the shade like a dark moss, so unique and perfect. Just like her.

“Yeah…well, okay no.” She sighs. “I locked my keys in my car.”

She sounds so defeated, and it makes my chest ache.

“Well,” I set my bag down on the ground, “it’s a good thing I’m a professional locksmith.”

Her head snaps up as she looks at me. “You are?”

I chuckle. “No, but I do know how to get keys out of a locked car.”

She looks at me skeptically. “Please don’t break the window. I know it’s an old car, but I love this thing.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t need to break any windows.”

“Is this some sort of trick and you’re going to rob or kidnap me?”

I’m taken aback at her question. “Is that something that’s common where you come from?”

“Considering I’m from Los Angeles…yes.”

I nod. Big city, impossibly high crime rate. Makes sense that she’s uneasy about a random guy approaching her claiming to help.

“Well, welcome to Amity, we tend to keep the robbing and kidnapping to a minimum.”

That actually earns me a light laugh from her, and I immediately want to hear more of it.

“I’m Jameson,” I introduce, mostly because I really need to know her name. I stretch my hand out for her to take, which she does. I try to control my reaction to the feeling of her perfectly small fingers wrapping around mine, and how perfectly our hands fit together for those few moments.

“Sutton.”

Of course her name is beautiful. Everything about her is.

“Nice to meet you, Sutton.” I test out her name on my tongue, and it feels so right. I want to keep saying it. I give her a smile before remembering that she needs my help. “Let me go get a couple tools, and I’ll be right back.”

She worries her lip, and I can tell she doesn’t want to be left alone, despite what I told her about being safe here.

“I’ll be back in less than a minute, there are tools at the fire station right there.” I point to the building.

“Won’t you get in trouble for stealing tools from there?”

I chuckle. “They can try.”

I leave it at that as I jog over to grab the tools I’ll need without getting the attention of anyone inside, knowing if any of them hear me, I won’t have Sutton all to myself anymore.

Luckily, they all must be eating or cleaning or sleeping because I’m able to slip out again without drawing attention to myself.

Sutton has her jacket wrapped around herself tightly as she looks around nervously when I come back. The cool ocean wind is strong right now, and I feel bad for not considering how cold she must be standing out here.

Shrugging off my own jacket I hand it to her.

“No, thanks, I’m okay.” She waves me off.

“I’d feel better if you took it.” I hold it open for her so she can easily slip her arms inside.

She hesitates before realizing I’m not going to give up, and lets me slide the coat onto her small frame. She’s drowning in the fabric, and for some reason a possessive side of me rears its head at the sight.

Once I’ve noticed she isn’t shivering, I get to work on getting her keys out. It doesn’t take me long as I slip the slim-jim tool down into her door, and the lock gives easily. I open the door, and grab her keys, holding them out to her. Our hands graze as I hand them over.

“Thank you so much.” She hugs her keys to her chest.

“You’re welcome. I’ll give you my phone number in case you need help again.” It’s an excuse, and a pretty weak one, but I want some reason to talk to her more.

“Oh, um, that’s okay. I won’t do this again, I promise.”

Ouch.

“Well, how about you have it just to have it then?” I smile.

Sutton starts to remove my jacket from her shoulders. “Thank you for your help, but I’m not looking for anything right now.”

I stop her before the article of clothing has slid down her arms. “You’re not looking for friends in your new town?”

She looks at me skeptically. “I don’t think I could be friends with you.”

“Suit yourself.” I shrug. “I’m a great friend, you’ll see.”

I turn to head back toward the station to return the tools.

“Bye, Jameson,” I hear her call from behind me and it makes me smile.

“Bye, Sutton.” I don’t turn around as I give a small wave, knowing she still has my jacket, and that she doesn’t believe I’m going to keep trying to be her friend.

Yeah, sure. Just a friend.