Read Online The Heat Is On (Boston Five Book 1) by Poppy J. Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Poppy J. Anderson
Tags: General Fiction
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like that?”
“You making Hayden cry, you stupid jerk!”
His throat went tight again, but he shrugged it off. “She wanted to hear it from me—”
“Do you really have nothing better to do than screw around while everyone else is mourning Dad’s passing?” She slid down from her stool and gave him one last, disparaging look. “I never would have thought that I’d ever be ashamed of you. Congratulations, Heath. Maybe Hayden is really better off without you.”
Wasn’t it supposed to rain at funerals?
Heath was sitting between his mom and Hayden, feeling paralyzed, staring up at the blue sky over the cemetery. In every movie he’d ever seen, it was raining when a funeral was taking place. It would pour, and the world would look bleak and gray. But at his father’s funeral, the sun was shining and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. It was actually rather hot for an April day, and he was sweating underneath his uniform, which he’d scrambled into while his shoulder burned like fire. The injury was still throbbing badly now, causing him discomfort and pain, but that wasn’t the worst part.
What was much worse was the grating sound of the casket being lowered into the freshly dug grave as the bagpipes played “Amazing Grace” and Hayden softly sobbed, burying her face against his uninjured shoulder.
It was weird, he thought, distracted. You would think the equipment would be checked before every funeral so that a sound like the jarring squeal wouldn’t happen. A few drops of oil would probably have eliminated it, and then his dad could have been put to rest without this noise that reminded him of a rat being run over.
He didn’t turn around to see all the dignitaries, firefighters, and policemen standing behind him. He was seated in the first row reserved for the family.
His mom squeezed his hand while she blinked at the casket, which was still descending into the earth, accompanied by the horrific squeal. He wanted to do something about the grating sound, but since he couldn’t, he just sat there, stiff as a statue, and as stone-faced, too. Hayden’s sobs were on one side of him, the squeeze of his mother’s hand on the other.
When the mayor handed his mom the folded flag that had lain on the casket only moments before, she could no longer suppress a sob of her own. She thanked the man hoarsely for his condolences. A fireman’s funeral was always an official affair, but when the highly decorated chief of a department lost his life while on active duty, the town’s dignitaries insisted on making it a small act of state. He threw a quick glance to the side and met his brother’s eyes. To honor his father, Shane was wearing his gala uniform, too, and he was staring at Heath. The unspoken accusation in his brother’s eyes made him press his lips together.
Neither his mom nor Hayden, the twins or Kayleigh, and least of all his colleagues, held him responsible for his father’s death. When he had woken up in the ER, Kayleigh had been sitting next to his bed, red-eyed, and the first thing she said was that he was not to blame. And in the hall in front of his room, half the department had waited to hear how he would fare, the men still sooty and exhausted from the fatal operation.
Heath wasn’t injured badly. Minor smoke inhalation, an injured shoulder, and a burn on his upper back—it was really nothing. He was allowed to leave the hospital the next day, with the awful knowledge that his dad had lost his life in the line of duty. While he, himself, had survived.
After he’d given his formal report on the accident while still in the hospital, neither his fellow firefighters nor his mother had asked him how his dad had died. Shane was the only one who wanted to know the details. Who wasn’t satisfied with the official report.
Heath couldn’t even blame him.
They’d almost come to blows over Shane’s questions and his subsequent dogged silence, and then they stopped
“You making Hayden cry, you stupid jerk!”
His throat went tight again, but he shrugged it off. “She wanted to hear it from me—”
“Do you really have nothing better to do than screw around while everyone else is mourning Dad’s passing?” She slid down from her stool and gave him one last, disparaging look. “I never would have thought that I’d ever be ashamed of you. Congratulations, Heath. Maybe Hayden is really better off without you.”
Wasn’t it supposed to rain at funerals?
Heath was sitting between his mom and Hayden, feeling paralyzed, staring up at the blue sky over the cemetery. In every movie he’d ever seen, it was raining when a funeral was taking place. It would pour, and the world would look bleak and gray. But at his father’s funeral, the sun was shining and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. It was actually rather hot for an April day, and he was sweating underneath his uniform, which he’d scrambled into while his shoulder burned like fire. The injury was still throbbing badly now, causing him discomfort and pain, but that wasn’t the worst part.
What was much worse was the grating sound of the casket being lowered into the freshly dug grave as the bagpipes played “Amazing Grace” and Hayden softly sobbed, burying her face against his uninjured shoulder.
It was weird, he thought, distracted. You would think the equipment would be checked before every funeral so that a sound like the jarring squeal wouldn’t happen. A few drops of oil would probably have eliminated it, and then his dad could have been put to rest without this noise that reminded him of a rat being run over.
He didn’t turn around to see all the dignitaries, firefighters, and policemen standing behind him. He was seated in the first row reserved for the family.
His mom squeezed his hand while she blinked at the casket, which was still descending into the earth, accompanied by the horrific squeal. He wanted to do something about the grating sound, but since he couldn’t, he just sat there, stiff as a statue, and as stone-faced, too. Hayden’s sobs were on one side of him, the squeeze of his mother’s hand on the other.
When the mayor handed his mom the folded flag that had lain on the casket only moments before, she could no longer suppress a sob of her own. She thanked the man hoarsely for his condolences. A fireman’s funeral was always an official affair, but when the highly decorated chief of a department lost his life while on active duty, the town’s dignitaries insisted on making it a small act of state. He threw a quick glance to the side and met his brother’s eyes. To honor his father, Shane was wearing his gala uniform, too, and he was staring at Heath. The unspoken accusation in his brother’s eyes made him press his lips together.
Neither his mom nor Hayden, the twins or Kayleigh, and least of all his colleagues, held him responsible for his father’s death. When he had woken up in the ER, Kayleigh had been sitting next to his bed, red-eyed, and the first thing she said was that he was not to blame. And in the hall in front of his room, half the department had waited to hear how he would fare, the men still sooty and exhausted from the fatal operation.
Heath wasn’t injured badly. Minor smoke inhalation, an injured shoulder, and a burn on his upper back—it was really nothing. He was allowed to leave the hospital the next day, with the awful knowledge that his dad had lost his life in the line of duty. While he, himself, had survived.
After he’d given his formal report on the accident while still in the hospital, neither his fellow firefighters nor his mother had asked him how his dad had died. Shane was the only one who wanted to know the details. Who wasn’t satisfied with the official report.
Heath couldn’t even blame him.
They’d almost come to blows over Shane’s questions and his subsequent dogged silence, and then they stopped
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