Timing

The Return and the Green Berets

            Brian took a step out into the frigid October air. The crisp, leaves crunched under his feet as he shuffled away from the station door and into the blinding sunlight that streamed down onto him. He took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of the cool air that seeped into his lungs. It was a welcome change from the smoke smell that had surrounded him for the past three weeks. As much as he enjoyed his time at the firehouse and with his colleagues, three intense weeks of lifting, carrying, running, and non-stop drills was exhausting. He had missed the jokes of his friends, his seat on the podcast, and Cece.

Brian shook his head, tugging his duffle bag further up onto his shoulder as he stepped out towards the curb in front of the firehouse. Cece had run through his head over and over again during the past few weeks. The lie he had texted her the morning he left for the firehouse had eaten away at him. She had plagued his dreams at night, popping up every night without fail. His fingers itched every day as if they were craving to touch the curves and dips of her skin. He woke up in a sweat most nights and found that cold showers were his new best friend.

"You look like shit." Brian's eyes jerked up to find Sal leaning against the red Jeep that matched the color of the firehouse.

"Thanks."

"Rough time?" Sal said, not moving from his place in front of the driver's door.

"I've had worse."

"Well this is the first time I've seen you come away from this shit several pounds lighter."

"What are you doing here?" Brian sighed, yanking the backseat door open so he could toss his bag into the backseat.

"We got called in for filming today," Sal stared at his best friend from behind his dark rimmed glasses. "I can assume that you haven't checked your phone then."

"Wasn't my first priority," Brian shrugged.

"So you're gonna go with avoidance, then? Do you really think that avoiding everything is the best way to go about things? Especially after you sent that text?"

"How do you know about that text?" Brian asked, his face stunned and unexpecting.

"She told Murray last week."

"Why would she tell Murray?"

"Get in and take us to Marco's Bakery and I'll fill you in," Sal said, jamming his thumb into the side of the Jeep. "Might want to look at your phone first. It might start piecing things together."

As Sal walked around to the passenger side of the door, Brian slid into the driver's seat and pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. Texts from Mom, BJ, Sal, Murray, Joe, WF, Ming, Declan, and...Cece. Quickly typing out a text to confirm with his mom that, yes, he'll be over for supper tomorrow, he flipped to Bryan's texts. The one that greeted him stopped his heart. It was a photo; Cece, sitting in his usual recording chair, hair loose around her face and staring at something across the table to her left. There was a smile on her face, relaxed and natural, as she looked on at something that Brian could only assume Walt was doing to make her feel at home. The text underneath it read: Figured you'd appreciate this shot of your girl. As he scrolled up, he glanced at other photos and texts from Bryan, showing her off in his chair and saying how amazing she was. Walt and Ming's texts contained more pictures and admirations; even Declan had texted him just to tell him that she was a natural behind the mic and complimented out the craziness of Walt and Bryan. The last text, sent early this morning, promised him the uncut versions of the episodes in the Dropbox so that he could hear everything from front to back.