Golden Hour by Campbell Steph

Author:Campbell, Steph [Campbell, Steph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00J7QT7TS
Goodreads: 21539894
Publisher: Campbell Reinhardt
Published: 2014-03-23T07:00:00+00:00

“Dean, my man,” I say, clapping him on the back. “Good to see you.”

I’m still worked up over how things ended with Elise last night, but I’m not taking it out on this kid on his first day back.

“Warren,” he nods. He sits down on the stretcher, takes out his inventory sheet, and starts pulling open cabinets in the back of the ambulance. I want to tell him that he doesn’t have to act tough, he doesn’t have to ignore what happened, but I realize that maybe he does have to.

Maybe that armor is what will keep him doing this job day after day.

“We got everything we need for the day?” I ask. I pick up a box of four-by-fours and pretend to count them. I have no fucking clue how many we’re supposed to keep on the truck each shift.

“We’re good,” Dean says, scribbling on his clipboard.

“Good deal.” I toss the box back and Dean picks it up, setting it in its correct place without sparing me a glance. “Alright then, I’m gonna head inside and see what Gabbie’s cooking. Smelled like gumbo when I dropped my stuff in the door. You want some?”

Dean tosses his paperwork onto the stretcher next to him and slaps his palms to his knees in frustration. “You don’t have to do this, Warren.”

“Do what?” I ask, rubbing my hand across my cheek. “I’m not pitying you if that’s what you think.”

“You’re not?” Dean asks, not quite meeting my eyes.

“Nope. Just trying to start fresh on the right foot,” I lie.

I pity him.

I pity the fuck out of him for being called to do this shitty job. I don’t have a choice. But Dean, he’s a bright kid. He could do any number of things that don’t involve scraping someone’s brains off of the concrete for barely above minimum wage or saving the life of some strung out, spastic asshole who doesn’t give a shit about anything but his next fix and doesn’t really deserve to be saved.

But, since I can’t say any of that, I just smile and pretend that I’m the loyal, capable partner Dean Harper deserves.

The vibration on my hip from my pager is actually welcome this time.

“Hey,” I say, glancing at the message. “We’ve got a call. You want to drive or you want me to?”

“You up for it, today?” Dean asks, climbing out of the back of the truck and trying to play off how he breathes in deep as he passes me, looking for the smell of whiskey.

“I’m great and, today? Today feels like the perfect day to save some lives.” I almost choke on my syrupy words as I say them. “Come on, MVC on the Causeway.”

Dean scrambles into the passenger seat of the truck, and I hop into the driver’s side and flip the lights and sirens on.

“Damn, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever done that,” I say with a chuckle.

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