Glen stormed out of the room. Trent had half a mind to follow his brother and lay a fist into him. His other urge was to grab another beer. He squelched both desires and found his way to the room he called his since he returned. In his bathroom, he turned on a light and looked in the mirror.

“Oh, damn.” When was the last time he shaved? His eyes were bloodshot, and a quick sniff told him he needed a shower.

He turned on the tap, watched the water as it ran down the sink. He wondered if Monica was as happy about healthy tap water as he was.

How was she doing? Was she back in California or still in Florida? Maybe she stayed with her sister in Texas for a while? Or maybe she moved in with her fiancé?

Trent grabbed his razor and removed several days of stubble. When he turned off the water he could hear his brother through the wall talking on the phone.

“I’m about to pull the family intervention shit, Jase. It’s f**king crazy.”

So Jason and Glen were talking about him.

“If I didn’t care, I’d kick his ass… hell maybe I will kick his ass. Something needs to wake him up.”

Trent moved out of earshot and leaned against the wall. Since when did he become the family bum? The first week home, he told himself he deserved a little R and R. Some downtime from life. He’d shared several beers with his brothers. They talked of old times, about their parents. For the first time since their death, Trent felt he could remember the good times and not choke on regret and blame. He didn’t tell his brothers about Monica outside the obvious. They didn’t bat an eye when he left Florida. Both told him to take all the time he needed to acclimate.

So he took the time.

Winter was losing its grip on the east and the spring sun was starting to stay up later. Trent moved to the window and realized the glare of sun was still out there.

Ginger sat on her haunches looking at him with that dopey dog expression. The one that said, Well… are we going out or what?

Trent ran a hand through his hair, hair that needed a good cut, and pulled on his shoes.

He grabbed Ginger’s leash, which resulted in a rapid series of barks.

Trent stepped out of his brother’s home and let the late afternoon chill wake him. The lingering scent of cold rain felt heavy in the air. Ginger pulled and tugged, excited to be out and peeing on every bush.

He walked the block, then the next. A few kids were playing outside their homes and somewhere the sound of a lawn mower hummed. It was the time for cut grass and flowers.

The thought of flying over fields of wildflowers reminded him of how much he’d been missing since he attempted to remove the memory of Monica with beer.

By the time he made it back to his brother’s, the sun had set in the far west. His thought lingered on whether Monica was watching it over the ocean tonight.

The smell of a grill made his insides churn. When he let Ginger loose in the backyard, he smelled the sizzling scent of steaks on the barbecue.

Glen turned a couple of steaks and closed the lid before focusing his attention on him. Without words, Trent grabbed a Coke from the outside fridge and tossed his brother a beer. Glen’s eyes opened wider.

“I can’t work in the office,” Trent said, placing his ass in a lounge chair. “You know how much I hate that shit.”

Glen leaned against the side of the house and opened his beer. “It’s been a while since you’ve been around. A lot of our pilots don’t even know you.”

“Yeah? So?”

“We have a couple of locations where more hours have been logged into flight time than were expected. We could use some investigating.”

“Find out if someone’s using the birds for their personal use?”

Glen smiled. “It’s not in the office.”

Yeah, and it wouldn’t be boring and leave him with hours to think.

“Where are the problems?”

“Biggest one is in Seattle.”

Seattle. Cold, wet… and miles from anyone. “You’ll watch my dog?”

The walking cast might have aided in walking, but in driving… not so much.

Monica’s first stop once she finally shook Katie loose was at the fire station where the majority of guys who’d come to her aid worked. It was about four in the afternoon, and the station was quiet. Quiet was not a word she’d say out loud for fear of jinxing the vibe of the day.

She stepped into the familiar garage that housed the big red trucks and knocked on the wall. “Hello?” she called out for someone to notice her.

Out from the weight room walked Stan. A veteran of the department for nearly twenty years, his hair was peppered with gray but he was still stacked with muscles he should have lost in his forties.

“Queenie? Holy cow. Guys?” he yelled in the back. “We have a visitor.”

Stan walked over and pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back and meant it.

“So damn good to see you.” Stan stood back and took her in.

Her bootleg pants didn’t hide her cast, but they did hug her ass. She wore a simple button-up shirt and whimsy scarf. The guys were used to seeing her in nothing but scrubs. She knew she looked different to them in plain clothes.

“Monica?” The next hug came from Radar. Not his real name but a nickname these jokers gave him because of the glasses he often wore. That’s what they told her anyway. Rumor had it he actually had a stuffed animal his kid gave him by his cot.

After Radar was Clive, no nickname there. Then came Spock, his name because of the word games he was so fond of playing in their downtime. Even their captain had his hug turn. Charlie might have been about four years away from retirement but he wasn’t anything but hot. In fact, all the guys surrounding her could easily be placed on one of those hot fireman calendars. Even dirty, these guys would sell thousands of copies.