Page 30 of Striking the Match (Redwood Bay Fire #3)

Teddy

I probably should have just gone home. I doubt the situation would be any better, but I’m feeling awkward and useless here at the station.

Still, Captain Valentine seemed pretty certain earlier when he said it would do me good to come back with the rest of the team, even if I just stuck to light duties.

Seeing as I wasn’t sure what else to do with myself, I allowed the decision to be taken out of my hands. That felt good, for a moment at least.

After we dropped Cassius off at San Clemente General, we only had to wait a few minutes before Yara and Dray returned to the helicopter and the pilot flew us all back to the One-Two-Two.

Of course some of them had worked out that I was the same guy they’d had to save when I jumped in the river to rescue Kiki and tried to give me shit about it, but Cap shut that down real fast. I’m just grateful none of them had seen the TikTok.

Yet.

The drive back to Redwood Bay was filled with deliberately vague chatter, mostly kept up by Lili, Lochlan and Sawyer arguing passionately about which Fast and Furious is the worst. Captain Valentine let Dispatch know that the One-Thirteen was back open for calls, and the tones sounded not even ten minutes after we disembarked from the rig.

Cap told me to stay behind and take a shower. I was more than happy to comply.

Now I’m clean and dry in fresh clothes, sitting on the floor of the common area with my back against the sofa, eating sugary cereal with Rocky’s head in my lap as he looks up at me with big sympathetic eyes.

“Yeah, it’s been a day,” I admit to him.

I lose my appetite for the fruity grains and marshmallows halfway through my bowl, so I set it down on the coffee table to let it go soggy.

Rocky allows me to absently stroke his back, his tail wagging every now and again.

When the station cat, Smokey, makes a rare appearance on the sofa behind my shoulder, Rocky whines for a second.

But then the two of them cohabit the space peacefully with me, which tells me how bad my vibes must be if they’ve agreed on a détente just to make me feel better.

I appreciate it.

Since returning to civilization, my phone’s been blowing up, mostly from my family.

I guess people they know have been messaging them as news of the initial livestream spreads.

Of course it’s not just that one video now.

People are reblogging, remixing and reacting to it across all social media platforms. I’ve received voicemails from news outlets looking to confirm the story.

The first one I listened to sent a chill down my spine.

I hate that someone I know is giving out my number to these vultures.

But there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do right now except ignore them. I don’t want to speak to anyone before touching base again with Cassius and his team.

Cassius. My heart aches. I desperately want to talk to him. But as he’s the one in hospital, we left it that he’d message when he could with an update. So I’m not going to bother him, no matter how much I want the reassurance that everything’s okay between us.

A part of me has accepted that the genie is out of the bottle and there’s no going back in terms of the public being aware of us.

It scares the shit out of me even more so than before because we never got the chance to prepare.

It’s bizarre, knowing that all over the world people are losing their minds over this.

But what can I really do except let them?

I’ll have to deal with the fallout—however horrendous it is—later.

Because the only way I can see to stop it is to deny that Cassius and I were ever a thing and say it’s all a big misunderstanding.

I’m not doing that.

Right now, I just want to know if Cassius and I are okay.

Does he still want to give us a chance? Or has it all been ruined before it could even begin?

If I could believe that he still wants me, that he’s going to stand by my side, then maybe I’ll have the guts to look at my phone again.

At the moment, it’s staying on silent in my pocket until further notice.

My parents are worried about me, especially my mom.

I think my dad’s trying not to sound too excited until the dust settles.

I imagine he’d love to brag to his buddies that his youngest is dating a legend.

Finally, something original from his fifth son.

My mom will want me to be happy, I know, whether that’s with Cassius or the boy next door.

Thinking of talking to them both later—with happy news if I have any luck at all—makes me smile.

Rocky whimpers and smiles at me, picking up on a brief respite from the doom and gloom rolling off my body. Smokey is purring behind me.

“This will pass,” I tell myself out loud.

My brothers seem curious and confused more than anything, judging from their messages asking what’s going on and if I’m okay. All except Nate, naturally, who I seem to do nothing but irritate since the day I was born. His message was an absolute treat to read.

NATE: What the actual FUCK dude??? Why is everyone in my office asking if my kid brother is taking it up the ass from Cassius fucking Garda??? IS THIS TRUE???

I’ll never be anything more than an embarrassment to him, and after all these years I’m still not really sure why.

I learned very early on in life not to even try hanging out or playing with him and his friends.

I wasn’t cool enough, fast enough, smart enough—you name it.

And when I came out, he acted like I’d done it deliberately to humiliate him, because of course he thinks that being gay is still something to be ashamed of in this day and age.

It’s not surprising that would be his main concern in the wake of this disaster.

Not worrying I almost died. He loves reminding me that I chose a meat-headed profession where ‘that’s part of the glory,’ so if something harrowing happens, I was asking for it, as far as he cares.

And I doubt he’s going to lose a second of sleep over what that TikTok has done to my privacy.

No. He’s just mad because strangers he’ll never meet are picturing me getting fucked by a football player, and that’s gross and mortifying for him.

He’s going to have people asking him about me when he’d rather pretend I don’t exist. In fact, I’d bet he’s already been on the phone whining to my mom how unfair this position I’ve put him in is.

Poor Nate. Thoughts and prayers.

And yeah, I know, poor Teddy, too. He’s maybe (hopefully?) dating a gorgeous, rich sports star. How will he survive?

I blow out a long breath and scratch behind Rocky’s ears.

All these thoughts are bouncing around like ping-pong balls inside my skull.

I need to distract myself before I go crazy.

Crazier. There’s got to be something around here that needs cleaning or organizing.

Or perhaps I could cook something. It’s sort of between lunch and dinner time, but I’m not sure when the guys would have last eaten before heading out to look for me.

That seems the best way to say thank you for dragging themselves out in the rain to beg the One-Two-Two for their helicopter so they could pick my ass up off the side of a mountain. I’m not sure what groceries we have, but I can start by looking.

However, before I can move, I realize that I’m no longer petting just one dog, but two.

I blink at the ball of fluff that’s appeared underneath my other hand, a little diamond brooch keeping her long hair out of the dark eyes currently looking up at me, a small pink tongue poking out between her lips.

“Oh, hello, Margot,” I say in delight. “Where’s your mom, hmm?”

“Here, here!” Mrs. Bloom calls out, coming into view over the sofa. She’s got two enormous trays in her hands, balanced one on top of the other. They’re covered in foil, but whatever it is it smells rich and spicy, and my stomach rumbles.

“Oh, you’re a life saver, Mrs. Bloom,” I say with a grin.

“You’re assuming these are for you?” she says tartly with a raised eyebrow.

As always, she’s immaculately put together in a plum two-piece pencil skirt and blazer with white piping that makes me think of Jackie Kennedy.

All she needs is a pillbox hat on her coiffured white hair to complete the look.

Her pumps click on the floor as she laughs to herself and marches over to our kitchen.

“They’re for my other constantly ravenous neighbors. ”

“Sure they are,” I drawl, already feeling lighter for her presence, even if she can be a little intimidating sometimes.

Most of the time.

“What’s got you here all by yourself, young Mr. Foster?” she asks as she sets the trays of food down on the counter before flicking the oven on. “Where’s everyone else?”

“On a call,” I say simply, standing up so I feel a little more dignified talking with her.

Smokey shoots off to perch on top of something high as usual, but Rocky and Miss Margot Fonteyn trot next to me as I move to sit at the breakfast bar.

“They actually had to rescue me this morning. That’s why I got left behind.

So I could shower and get my head back on straight. ”

She clasps her hands together, large diamonds and other precious gemstones glinting on her fingers under the artificial lighting. “My goodness. Is everything all right?”

I shrug. “That’s a complicated question,” I tell her honestly with a laugh.

“Physically, yeah, I’m fine. My friend and I got caught up in a landslide yesterday evening.

He sprained his ankle, and we had to camp overnight.

The guys found us this morning with a helicopter they borrowed from the One-Two-Two. ”

Mrs. Bloom sits opposite me on another high stool, automatically picking up Margot Fonteyn to perch in her lap. Rocky makes do by lying at my feet.