himself now, haunted my thoughts. I couldn’t close my eyes without having memories of our childhood together swarm my mind. There were great memories, like when we would go to the beach and search for shells. Then there were terrible ones, like when he would come to my trailer and find me beaten in the bathroom. I winced at the image of a teenage Sawyer looking down at me with concern. Sawyer had seen every part of me. I felt ashamed of that because he was perfect, kind, and honorable. He deserved someone in his life who matched his qualities.
Sawyer had lost his parents. His perfect, loving parents. His parents who had invited me to every holiday and made me feel loved, that let me stay there often and took care of me. My heart ached thinking of his mom gently holding me as I sobbed after my birth mom, Missy, overdosed for the third time. Sawyer’s mom, Beth, was a natural mother, a loving person. She had wanted a dozen children but was only able to have Sawyer. When Beth and her husband, Peter, died, a piece of me did, too. That part of me didn’t only die for myself, but for Sawyer as well. How was I going to replace that love in his life? All he would have had was me, and it had scared me to death.
I took a deep breath and realized I had lost minutes thinking about the past yet again. Ever since I moved here, it seemed that’s all I did. I looked at the clock again and hustled out of my Bronco towards my classroom. I pushed my worries and questions about my past far into the back of my mind. Today was our class field trip to the Lincoln fire station, and I would focus on that instead. I sighed and then took a long pull of my extra-large, extra caffeinated mocha that Jules had made special for me this morning. Whoa, that’s the stuff . I opened the door to my class and, realizing that I only had twenty minutes until the little tikes showed up, I rushed to get our morning activities set up. A little over three hours, four Tylenol and a twenty minute drive later, my entire kindergarten class, ten parents and I were standing in front of the Lincoln Fire Station.
Chapter Twelve
Sawyer
My Uncle Tom stood in front of the TV in the common area of the fire station. His belly was wrapped tight in his dark blue LFD shirt and slightly hung over his blue pants. I yawned as he wrapped up his thirty minute “update”, which turned more into a rant about people being irresponsible drivers. He shot me a pointed look as he finished with, “ Don’t forget, today is our field tip with a local Kindergarten class. Now I know they come every year, but last year some kid took out another kid with a fire hose, so just watch those little rascals. Prescott and Miller, you have this one.”
“Al right, Pres. Let’s kill this thing!” Miller shouted sarcastically across the room.
I sighed. “I can’t wait.”
I took a sip of my fourth cup of coffee for the day and rolled my eyes. Chase came trotting in with a bone in his mouth. I shook my head at how pathetic he had become. The guys were spoiling him and it was starting to show. Chase looked at me and then went to the corner where his dog bed sat. After a couple of spins around, he settled down on the plush bed. “Spoiled.” I muttered under my breath.
I was glad we had a slow morning this morning, but I wasn’t looking forward to the field trip. I didn’t become a firefighter to babysit a bunch of little brats. I sighed. I also didn’t want to be reminded of what I was missing from my own hectic life. A family, a specific woman . . . some brats of my own. I didn’t have to be a firefighter. My parents left me plenty of money, and I had invested it in real estate and other avenues. I had passive income from those. This had just started out as a desperate distraction and as a way to become a better man so maybe, just maybe, Megan would come back. Then somewhere down the line, somehow, this, firefighting, helping others in times of desperation, had become an addiction.
Sawyer had lost his parents. His perfect, loving parents. His parents who had invited me to every holiday and made me feel loved, that let me stay there often and took care of me. My heart ached thinking of his mom gently holding me as I sobbed after my birth mom, Missy, overdosed for the third time. Sawyer’s mom, Beth, was a natural mother, a loving person. She had wanted a dozen children but was only able to have Sawyer. When Beth and her husband, Peter, died, a piece of me did, too. That part of me didn’t only die for myself, but for Sawyer as well. How was I going to replace that love in his life? All he would have had was me, and it had scared me to death.
I took a deep breath and realized I had lost minutes thinking about the past yet again. Ever since I moved here, it seemed that’s all I did. I looked at the clock again and hustled out of my Bronco towards my classroom. I pushed my worries and questions about my past far into the back of my mind. Today was our class field trip to the Lincoln fire station, and I would focus on that instead. I sighed and then took a long pull of my extra-large, extra caffeinated mocha that Jules had made special for me this morning. Whoa, that’s the stuff . I opened the door to my class and, realizing that I only had twenty minutes until the little tikes showed up, I rushed to get our morning activities set up. A little over three hours, four Tylenol and a twenty minute drive later, my entire kindergarten class, ten parents and I were standing in front of the Lincoln Fire Station.
Chapter Twelve
Sawyer
My Uncle Tom stood in front of the TV in the common area of the fire station. His belly was wrapped tight in his dark blue LFD shirt and slightly hung over his blue pants. I yawned as he wrapped up his thirty minute “update”, which turned more into a rant about people being irresponsible drivers. He shot me a pointed look as he finished with, “ Don’t forget, today is our field tip with a local Kindergarten class. Now I know they come every year, but last year some kid took out another kid with a fire hose, so just watch those little rascals. Prescott and Miller, you have this one.”
“Al right, Pres. Let’s kill this thing!” Miller shouted sarcastically across the room.
I sighed. “I can’t wait.”
I took a sip of my fourth cup of coffee for the day and rolled my eyes. Chase came trotting in with a bone in his mouth. I shook my head at how pathetic he had become. The guys were spoiling him and it was starting to show. Chase looked at me and then went to the corner where his dog bed sat. After a couple of spins around, he settled down on the plush bed. “Spoiled.” I muttered under my breath.
I was glad we had a slow morning this morning, but I wasn’t looking forward to the field trip. I didn’t become a firefighter to babysit a bunch of little brats. I sighed. I also didn’t want to be reminded of what I was missing from my own hectic life. A family, a specific woman . . . some brats of my own. I didn’t have to be a firefighter. My parents left me plenty of money, and I had invested it in real estate and other avenues. I had passive income from those. This had just started out as a desperate distraction and as a way to become a better man so maybe, just maybe, Megan would come back. Then somewhere down the line, somehow, this, firefighting, helping others in times of desperation, had become an addiction.
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