Page 114 of Hope After Loss

We finish eating, and I clean up the mess while Tucker gets his shoes on. Then, we say our good-byes, and Corbin walks with us to the driveway.

“Remember what I said,” Corbin says as he climbs into his truck.

I can see the apprehension in the set of his jaw. I can’t blame him. He has felt such a responsibility to care for and protect Anna and Kaela. Mike was more than a friend. He considers every single fireman who serves under him a brother.

Hell, if I were him, I wouldn’t want her to pick me either.

Guess I’ll have to prove us both wrong.

I drop Tucker off and head to the office.

Several cars are in the parking lot when I pull in.

What now?

Erin, Jena, Brandee, and Maxi file out of one of the cars and follow me to the office.

“What can I do for you guys?” I ask as I unlock the door.

“We came to warn you. And maybe use ourselves as human shields,” Erin says as they follow me inside.

“What?”

“I let it slip to Corbin that you and Anna hooked up last weekend,” Maxi admits.

“Yeah, I know. He found me at Langford’s this morning.”

“And you’re not dead?” Jena says.

I turn to her. “I don’t think so.”

“Whew.”

“I’m sorry. I thought if I told him, I could talk him around to not overreacting,” Maxi says.

“Thanks, but apparently, my own brothers think I’m some horrible person that nice girls need to be protected from.”

“Being a single man and sleeping with lots of women doesn’t make you a terrible person. It just makes you a slutty person,” Erin says.

“Slutty? Can a man be slutty?” Jena asks.

“What’s the masculine of slut?”

“Hmm … tramp?” Jena replies.

“Nah, still doesn’t fit.”

“Floozy, harlot, hooker, tart, wench, whore?” Brandee ticks off.

“None of those work either,” Erin quips.

“It’s fucking insulting that there are so many words to describe a wanton woman and none that describe a man who whores around. Such a double standard,” Jena states.

“That’s it. It doesn’t make you a man-whore,” Brandee says.

“But if you have feelings for someone and continue to dip your wick into every pot of oil, that does make you a wretched man-whore,” Jena insists.

“But does it? Even if she doesn’t know he has those feelings?” Erin asks.