Something Worth Saving (10 page)

“Me, too.” Brooke’s creamy cheeks flushed at her comment. “You always know.”

“Since when has your goodie-two-shoes ass been without panties, aside from the shower?” Lauren demanded.

“Good girls never tell . . . ” She used that line a lot. We all knew Brooke was slightly reserved and rarely swore, but I knew for sure that she had a naughty side. There’s no way she could be married to a guy like Logan and not be a little dirty. Secretly.

Like most of the boys on Ladder 1, he was just as foul-mouthed and crude when it came to sexual innuendos. He joined in on the vulgar details. I knew that much.

Unfortunately, I had overheard them a time or two.

“Back to you . . . ” Brooke’s face was all sorts of colors now. “Why did he have your underwear?”

“That’s not exactly important, either.”

“Yes, it is!” Shanna, Brooke, and I said together.

Lauren went on to explain that they were dancing. She took them off while she was dancing and he put them in his pocket, and when he dropped her off, she forgot to get them back.

“Why did you take them off, though?”

“I thought it would be sexy.”

“What? Wearing no panties?” Shanna’s eyes were huge. For those who knew my sister, this really wasn’t that surprising, but I think the fact that she was doing this with Axe was what was so . . . unbelievable about it.

“Yes . . . No . . . ” Lauren was starting to stutter. “I mean, if we were going to fuck in the club or something, I—”

“Stop talking to Shanna.” My advice to my little sister went unheard. Her laughter was all she had left when Shanna flipped me off.

“Whatever, Aubrey. You rode your boy in his truck in the middle of a public park. You have no room to talk.” Shanna turned to Lauren, her hands on her shoulders. “Honey, you know Axe has dipped in dirtier places than a night club. He got it on behind the station in the alley before. Be careful.”

“Ew, Lauren. Jace was right. Go to Planned Parenthood.”

“Oh stop.” She waved her hand around and sat on Brooke’s lap in the chair behind the counter, both of them smiling. Both for different reasons. “We didn’t actually have sex.”

“But you said your panties were off.” Brooke looked at her funny.

All of us seemed to live through my twenty-five-year-old sister’s single-life meaningless sexual encounters these days.

Pathetic
.

“Yes, my panties were off, but the only straws in my juice box were toothpicks.”

Oh, my God. My sister has lost it.

“Juice box?” Brooke mouthed to me.

“Toothpicks?” I mouthed back.

Between our laughter and Lauren’s loud mouth, we had no customers and even less dignity by the end of that conversation. But we had our panties. Which was more than I could say for Lauren.

This wasn’t the first time the three of us had given Lauren shit. She asked for it most of the time, between Gavin’s greasy dad and now Axe. It was apparent she was attracted to hoodlums.

Axe wasn’t exactly the guy I would pick off the line. Married, widowed, girlfriend, long story, and now he’s taking the hero-guy copout and using his hose to put out the heat between the legs of most girls between eighteen and thirty. My sister included.

This, right now in the shop, I lived for moments like this, surrounded by my friends. It was like our own ventilation process.

I’ve often heard Jace talk about fires and how they can manipulate a fire and gain control of it by using what they call technical ventilation. Taking away the air directed at the fire.

Command to dispatch, be advised, we’re working outside defense mode now. Heavy smoke and fully involved fifth and sixth floors.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Aubrey

W
HEN I
got home from work Friday night, all I wanted to do was relax, like most people. The problem with that?

I have children.

As I walked through the door, I knew for sure my relaxation was not happening tonight. It looked like an F5 tornado had ripped through Toys R Us and tossed its debris in my living room. The kitchen was a disaster too. Milk was spilled on the counter, no doubt thanks to Jace. He couldn’t pour anything without spilling it.

And speaking of Jace, he was sleeping on the floor. Honestly, I wanted to turn around and walk out. Maybe they wouldn’t notice if I didn’t come home for another few hours.

A quick assessment of the kids. I found Gracie in the kitchen, the sink full of water, most of it on the counter — with bubbles — as she washed her Barbies in there.

I found Jayden in our closet, playing with my shoes. He had a hair of high heels on and was working on putting socks over them. He’d be there a while.

“What the fuck?” I kicked Jace in the stomach as I walked by him with an armful of towels to clean up the mess Gracie had made in the kitchen.

Gracie glared over her shoulder, black ringlet curls sticking to her soaked shirt. “Mommy, watch your language.”

“You’re home?” Jace sat straight up, then rubbed his eyes and stomach.

“No, I’m not home. You’re dreaming, and I would clean this up if I were you, because when the real Aubrey gets home” —I sucked in a breath between my teeth— “she’s gonna be pissed.”

Jace blew it off, just as I thought he would, and attempted to put a couple of toys away before the television caught his attention again.

Everywhere I looked there were toys, laundry, dishes, and a bag of McDonalds. Clearly he hadn’t fed them.

Figured. Jace never cooked, and frankly, I didn’t want him to. He once made chicken nuggets for Gracie and caught the stove on fire.

Just once I’d like to come home and have Jace actually do something around here. Yeah, I get it. He works, too, but on his days off, what’s the harm in actually helping out? Would it kill him to do the dishes?

He might break every dish we had, but hell, at this point, I’d forgive him for making the goddamn effort.

By the time I’d finished cleaning up, and gotten the kids bathed and ready for bed, Jace was in the living room with Logan and Axe, drinking beers on their night off.

I didn’t even say anything to them, and fell asleep on the floor in Jayden’s room after reading him a story.

And Jace wondered why I got upset all the time lately. He thought I should be happy that he was home, which I was, but when he was home, it was just more work.

The point of all this?

I felt like a single mom most of the time.

Now you see why I felt like we were growing apart?

Shouldn’t he have seen what was happening?

For an intuitive and incredibly observant person, he was rather oblivious to what was happening to us.

I woke up freezing and I should have stayed there, because freezing was better than hearing Jace snore and having him move his feet constantly. Subconsciously I think we were trying to annoy each other. He was doing it, and I was waiting for him to so I could wake him up.

I’ve never understood movies where the couple sleeps right on top of each other all night in a loving embrace. Fuck that. I need my space. And I hate noises at night. And movement. Both of which Jace does all night long.

“Just stop moving your feet.” I kicked him to the point of injury.

“What?” he snorted as if he was doing nothing wrong. “What’s your problem?”

“You. You’re my problem, with your overactive feet.”

“You’re impossible,” he groaned, trying to cover his head with his pillow and then pulling the blankets toward him.

“I’m impossible? Why can’t you just lie here and sleep? You’re the impossible one. And annoying.”

“Am not.” He rolled over, taking the blankets with him.

“Are, too.”

I totally understood people who slept in separate bedrooms now. I got the best sleep when he was at the station. Only because he wasn’t in bed next to me, snoring.

I kicked him in the shin, hoping he’d wake up and stop the horrid noises.

He woke up all right. “What was that? Fuck” —he grabbed his calf— “my leg hurts.”

“Maybe it’s a charlie horse.”

He rolled over, only this time he was facing me. Completely backfired. Now he was not only snoring but breathing on my neck, too.

How could he sleep with those noises emanating from him?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of all the ways I could make him stop breathing just so I could get some sleep. Nothing came to mind, short of suffocation. That was kind of permanent.

I tossed around, pretty violently, I might add, thinking if I moved enough he would wake up and, better yet, go sleep on the couch so I didn’t have to leave the warm bed.

All that rolling around got me was a trip to the floor when I rolled right off the bed and hurt my shoulder.

That was when I decided to throw a pillow at him. I wasn’t gentle, either. At that point I wanted the feather pillow to break his nose. Then maybe he would stop snoring. “Shut up!”

“What?” His voice was thick from sleep, and a little hoarse. “What happened?”

How this could be the same guy who could wake up in the middle of the night and be at a fire five minutes later was a mystery to me.

By then I was so annoyed that I went and slept on the couch.

Guess what he asked me the next morning?

“Why are you on the couch?”

I stared at him in complete disbelief. He remembers nothing sometimes. Too bad I couldn’t say the same for the other night. Jace still remembered that, all right.

“Has he called you anymore?” Jace asked, sometime after I got the kids up and eating breakfast.

“No.” I kept my eyes on Jayden’s waffle as I cut it into bite-sized portions for him.

Jace nodded, kissed the kids and my forehead, and headed for the door.

Another day, and nothing more said.

There were days when I wanted to ask him why he felt the need to distance so much of himself from me lately. But I didn’t.

I never held him, or myself, accountable.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

T
HE DAY
of Amelia’s party, I had a hard time deciding on how I wanted to do the dirt cups for her. So I got on Pinterest.

You know what drove me insane?

Pinterest.

I wanted to punch the motherfucker who designed that website and then kiss their gifted ass.

I mostly hated it because it made me want to be crafty. And then I wanted to spend money.

And who has that?

Last time I checked, I did not.

After settling on horse pails to go with her
Brave
theme, I got them made up, and we headed out to the party.

I didn’t like taking the kids to birthday parties for the simple fact that I enjoyed my children; I just didn’t enjoy others. And why spend so much money on them?

What kid honestly remembers those birthday parties when they’re older?

I sure as shit didn’t.

Oh, that’s right. That’s because I never had birthday parties. My mom’s idea of a birthday was McDonald’s Play Land for five minutes.

As you can see, children’s birthday parties aren’t exactly the highlight of my day, but when it’s a Jennings family party, it’s entertaining as hell.

Just because I hated having, and attending, birthday parties didn’t mean I didn’t like children. I just didn’t like it when you got twenty of them together and gave them sugar.

Who would?

Regardless, we had a birthday party to attend.

Logan and Brooke had a condo on Hiawatha Place about ten minutes from our apartment. They were the only ones out of our friends who owned their own place. Jace and I rented still because we had yet to save enough for a down payment.

If we could stop having kids, we’d probably be able to afford it.

Like most firefighters in Seattle, Jace made decent money, but living in Seattle was also extremely expensive. Logan was in the same situation but had support from Brooke’s parents, who’d bought them a condo when Brooke and Logan had Amelia five years ago. Their condo was simple. Neither one of them had the taste for anything overly luxurious, but it was homey and comfortable to be there. It wasn’t like Shanna’s apartment in Alki Beach where you were afraid to touch anything. And it was better than Lauren’s apartment, with milk crates for end tables.

And how was Jace lately?

Working. He got off at eight this morning after his twenty-four-hour Saturday shift, came home and slept for an hour, and then we took the kids to the park, where we said very little to one another.

I was still pissed that he’d reacted that way about my mom and Ridley when I wasn’t trying to hide anything and he, well, who knew what the fuck his problem was. I was at the point where I didn’t even want to ask, because what if he said his problem was me? Was I ready to deal with that, too?

Nope.

So no talking about our shit.

Luckily, I hadn’t heard from my mom or Ridley again.

I guess I should say that it wasn’t like Jace and I weren’t talking at all. I should clear that up. We talked. Just not about anything of substance.

He was testy, seemed annoyed, and didn’t exactly start conversations with me. But should I start one, conversation flowed lightly, but it wasn’t like I initiated it, either.