I tossed my keys onto one of the boxes stacked in the basement living room and shimmied off my skirt. While I was searching through my box of clothes for my favorite yoga pants, I heard my mother’s voice behind me.
“How’d your interview go?”
“Mother!” I crouched trying to cover myself, knowing full well she had just gotten a great view of my bare ass.
“Oh, stop it.” She didn’t avert her eyes in the slightest. “I made you, birthed you, and bathed you. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
I grabbed the skirt and yanked it back on.
“So?”
“It went fine,” I said in my most exasperated voice. “I got the job.”
Her face didn’t change. “You know, I worry this job will be too dangerous for you.”
“I know, Mom. You told me this morning.” I put my hands on my hips. “But it’s no more dangerous than being a firefighter.”
“Volunteer firefighter. It’s not like you were in any real danger doing that.”
I fought the urge to throw something at her. We had been over the fact that the town only had volunteer firefighters, and we did everything paid firefighters did.
“Well, at least I got a job. A good job. A job that could turn into something more than just a job. Plus now I can save up and let you have your basement back.”
“But you’ve only been here a week.” Her lip jutted out in a pout. “And I like having the whole family back together. It feels right.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “If it would make you feel better, I could start charging you rent.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t want you to start charging me rent. This was supposed to be a way for me to get back on my feet after . . .”
She nodded slowly. “I told you that boy was trouble from the start. Kicking you out of his apartment for—what did you call her? Giraffe girl?” Every word was like salt in a wound. “Don’t you like being here with us? Watching NASCAR and football games with your dad? Having family meals?”
This conversation was going to end up one of two ways: me hurting my mother’s feelings by saying something stupid, or me lying and saving her feelings.
“Yes, Mom. It’s nice to be home.”
“Good.” She squeezed me one last time and released me from her side hug. “Now come upstairs, I got Fizzy a present.”
I looked around. Fizzy, my pit bull Lab mix, was surprisingly not weaving in and out of my legs like he usually did when I got home.
“What kind of present?” I asked, unsure I wanted the answer.
“Come upstairs and you’ll see.”
When I reached the top stair, the first thing I noticed was a look in my dog’s eyes that I only ever saw when he was chasing cats. Murder. The second thing: a pink doggie sweater.
“Oh no. No, no, no.” I walked over to where Fizzy sat next to my dad. “You cannot be serious.”
“He was cold. I saw him shivering outside the other day and his hair is so short, so I bought him a sweater.”
“Mom, it’s almost summer. And he’s . . . a boy.”
“Boys can like pink. Your father has a pink tie.”
My dad made a goofy face, and I tried not to laugh.
“Plus,” she continued, “I am always shopping for my two-legged grandsons, but I never get to shop for my four-legged grandson.”
“Please, do not tell me you just compared my sons—my human sons—to that mutt.” My sister and her husband walked through the front door carrying two of their adorable and crazy little boys while the other two bounded in and knocked over a plant.
Megan, almost two years older than me, had her life together. She always looked like she had just emerged from the salon with her perfect brown ringlets. No one would guess she’d popped out four boys with her tiny frame. I had always been jealous of her petite stature, especially when she could wear the cute feminine clothes while I struggled to find ones that fit my taller and more muscular build.
“Oh, Megan, you know I love them all the same.” My mom snatched up her oldest and planted a big kiss on his cheek—which he promptly wiped off.
“That’s the problem.” Megan shook her head. “They’re humans.” She pointed around to her boys. “And he’s a dog.” She pointed at a very anxious looking Fizzy. “They have your blood running through their veins. And he has cat guts rotting in his stomach.”
“That’s disgusting.” Mom put the wiggling little boy back down. “And I won’t have any talk like that under my roof.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Megan muttered before turning her attention to me. “Ry, did you get the job?”
I nodded. “Sixth time’s the charm.”
“But she’s not sure if she’s going to take it yet,” Mom said.
“Um, I already accepted the position.” Not quite true, but I had every intention to when my background check cleared.
“Why wouldn’t she take the position?” My brother-in-law, Tom, sat down on the couch next to Megan.
“It’s just so dangerous. There are all those criminals and—”
“She’ll be fine,” my father piped in. “She’s a smart girl. She can handle herself.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” I planted a kiss on his cheek. “Now, let’s get this thing off Fizzy.”
2
If my first shift was any indicator, being a ranger was going to be nothing like I expected.
“Let me show you around,” Ben said when I arrived at the massive shop on a hill overlooking Alder Ridge Reservoir. “This is where we are stationed. From the outside it doesn’t look like much, but inside it’s our haven.”
He was right. Outside it looked like any other metal post frame building with five huge garage doors and a single man door. No windows. But once you were inside, it was as if I’d stepped into the ultimate man cave.
