HEAT UNDER FIRE gets off to a riveting start. Justin is a
cop who is tired of being a deterrent to speeders through
town, and the woman who flashes her assets at him gets a
ticket just the same. Then Justin sees a school bus which
has struck the railing of an overpass and is hanging on the
brink of space, filled with scared kids. The rescue mission
is well explained, leaving Justin weak at the knees from
stress and exertion. A friendly, good-looking EMT called
Rock is on the scene, and Justin wishes they could get to
know each other better.
In HEAT UNDER FIRE, a couple of weeks later while
supervising traffic at a fire Justin suffers from smoke
inhalation and chemical fume burns, and Rock gives him
oxygen and takes him to hospital. Justin's mother turns up
at the hospital and refuses to countenance the fact that
her son is gay.
I found some of the tale very humorous, as when Justin's
mother is busy trying to fix him up with anyone in a skirt,
but the girls are well aware that Justin is gay and just
envy him his growing relationship with Rock. Another time,
Justin is upset after a falling-out, and the down-home lady
dispatcher says he's done something wrong. "You're a man.
Of course you did something wrong." The serious side of
policing even in a low-crime area is also brought home, as
in a car accident and an escape of carbon monoxide gas.
HEAT UNDER FIRE is a well rounded story, from a capable
writer with
many titles under his belt.
Andrew Grey is also author of the Workout series and
other gay novels including fantasy and Amish life. HEAT
UNDER FIRE, while an adult novella, can be considered a
tale involving the entire community.
Justin Briggs can shout out directions all day on his job
as
a traffic cop, but put him in front of a hot guy,
specifically firefighter Rock Sparks, and he clams up.
Rock finds Justin confusing. While saving a busload of
children hanging off the edge of a highway overpass, the
cute rookie is cool and confident. But when Rock tries to
chat him up, he stutters and chokes. Frustrated, Rock
teases
Justin, and boy, is his temper hot.
Though Rock and Justin share a steamy kiss, Justin keeps
his distance, still tongue-tied. Then, when Justin is
injured on the job, Rock takes him to the hospital, and
some
of the barriers start to crumble. But getting his enigmatic
boyfriend to open up brings up more questions about
Justin’s
past.
Excerpt
CARS passed by again and again, twenty–five,
twenty–seven, thirty–two miles per hour. God,
he hated traffic duty with a passion. Justin Briggs reached
absentmindedly for the cup of coffee in the console. He had
to do something to stay awake. The speed limit was thirty,
and his job was to make sure that people drove sanely and
carefully where South Hanover Street narrowed from four
lanes to two.
The Borough of Carlisle had gone on a "road diet" a few
years ago and narrowed both main streets through town to
one lane each way. The purpose was to try to slow traffic,
reduce trucks coming through town, and add bike lanes.
While it had done all that, it had also created a
drag–race scenario where the road narrowed, and the
chief was determined to nab the offenders, especially since
his wife had been involved in an accident a few weeks
earlier right in front of where Justin was sitting in his
cruiser.
So, here he was, babysitting the chief's new pet peeve and
watching car after car pass by just below the speed limit.
Granted, he was parked in the ambulance garage parking lot,
where he could clearly be seen. The chief wasn't as
interested in giving out tickets as he was in making sure
drivers slowed down and stopped acting like idiots on the
roads of their town.
Justin, on the other hand, would have liked nothing more
than to give out a few tickets just to alleviate the
boredom. He'd been sitting here for days, spending his
entire shift watching cars pass, burning gas to keep the
air–conditioning going. He tried not to fall asleep,
but it was getting harder and harder.
He heard the car before he saw it—the low rumble of a
gunned engine. Justin pointed his radar gun at the oncoming
car, but the guy barely slowed even once he clearly saw
Justin's vehicle. The white Charger weaved around a slower
vehicle right in front of Justin. He flipped on his lights,
sounded the siren, and took off. Cars got out of his way as
he chased the other car through town. The idiot made no
effort to slow and just kept going. Justin called in for
backup, keeping the other vehicle in sight. Finally, the
idiot pulled off, and Justin slowed behind the vehicle,
waiting for another patrol car to show. Once it did, Justin
slowly approached the car. The driver's window lowered, and
a pair of huge blue eyes surrounded by long blonde hair
batted up at him. "I'm sorry, Officer," she tittered. "I
was listening to my music and got all caught up."
"License, proof of insurance, and registration please,
ma'am," Justin said, keeping his attitude all business.
"Of course," she said, still batting her eyes. She reached
into her purse, and Justin tensed until she pulled out her
wallet. She handed him her driver's license and then leaned
over to the glove box, making sure her endowments were on
clear display. Justin paid no attention—she didn't
have anything he wanted to see. He took the registration
once she handed it over and then walked back to his car.
"Everything okay?" Marty asked as he walked over from the
other car.
"Yes. Just a blond bunny who thinks she can do what she
wants then bat her eyelashes and shake her boobs to get out
of it," Justin said.
"You gonna let her?" Marty asked.
"Heck, no. She can shake her boobs at the judge if she
tries to fight the ticket," Justin said, opening his car
door so he could run her information.
"I'd let her off if she was clean otherwise," Marty said.
"Yeah." Justin smiled. "But you think with your dick." He
punched up the program on his laptop and scanned the
barcode on her license—Brenda Patterson—before
letting the computer do its thing.
"Like you don't," Marty said from outside the car, and
Justin nodded his agreement, because that was easier than
getting drawn into a discussion of how what Brenda was
displaying didn't do the least bit for him. It wasn't like
he was deep in the closet or anything; he just never talked
about his sex life at work. Hell, he didn't talk about his
personal life at all if he could help it. He figured it was
safer that way. Justin didn't like lying or deception of
any kind. His entire life was built on openness and
honesty. He'd had enough deception and tricks growing up,
and he didn't need or want them now.
His computer returned the results that Brenda had a clean
driving record. Somehow, Justin doubted that greatly, and
he pulled out his book of citations and began filling one
out. "I don't think you need to stay around," he told
Marty. Justin could tell the other officer was itching to
get a closer look at the bombshell in the Charger, but he
banged on the car door.
"Okay, but I'll keep an ear to the radio in case you need
backup." Marty winked and then moved away from the patrol
car.
Justin finished making out the citations and then got out
of his car, following standard procedure to keep an eye on
everything and everyone. As he approached the car, he saw
Brenda once again smiling and batting her eyelashes at
him—that is, until he handed her the ticket. Then she
scowled and narrowed her eyes. The woman went from Barbie
to harpy in the blink of an eye. Justin ignored her scowl
and mutters, explaining all the information.
"Ma'am, you broke the law and endangered other drivers and
pedestrians along the way. Now, I suggest you slow down and
take your time." Justin backed away from the car. "Drive
safely," he added before heading back to his cruiser.
Inside, he made a series of notes in his book and then
turned out his lights and drove back to his post for a few
more hours of watching cars go by. He parked and set up the
gun again before settling back in his seat and radioing in
that he was back on station.
About an hour later, a speeding car heading out of town
caught Justin's attention, and he flipped on his lights and
pulled out to follow the car. He'd just gotten behind the
driver and was about to radio in the call when a long
screech, like nails on a blackboard, crawled up his spine.
Justin looked up from the car in front of him and saw a
school bus facing him on the freeway overpass. It took him
a second to realize the bus was hanging over the edge of
the overpass, and by then, he'd already disengaged from the
speeder, who had sped up again and was heading up onto the
freeway.
"Bus accident on I–81 South," Justin radioed
in. "Don't know number of people involved. Need emergency
services. Bus hanging over overpass, need South Hanover
closed both ways. On my way to assist at the scene."
Traffic was already stopping on the surface streets. Justin
needed to get up to the freeway, but the lane to the
on–ramp was clogged, so he went up an off–ramp
and turned so he went the wrong way down the freeway
shoulder, siren and lights blaring so he could get to the
bus.
It was teetering on the edge, and as soon as he stopped his
car and got out, he could hear children on the bus,
screaming. Cars on the highway were slowing, and Justin got
the first cars to hold. He knew he was backing things up,
but he needed to help those kids. "Stay there," he told the
drivers, and they held still, effectively closing the
freeway. The bus screeched, and Justin saw it move slightly.
"It's all right, kids," Justin yelled, and the screaming
subsided. "I want you all to slowly move to the back of the
bus. Don't move fast or suddenly, but slowly walk to the
back of the bus." He saw the kids begin to move inside and
heard sirens approaching from what seemed like all
directions, but he kept his eyes on the kids. "That's it.
Keep walking slowly," Justin encouraged as the back wheels
of the bus settled back down onto the pavement. "Good, now
all of you stay where you are. We're going to get you out,
but it will take a few minutes. No one move," Justin
said. "Is the driver with you?" he asked the kids through
an open window.
"No," a small kid about seven answered. "He's in his seat
with red stuff all over him."
"That's blood," one of the other kids said, and a few of
the kids began to cry.
"It's okay, you're going to be all right. We're going to
help you, and then we'll get the driver out too. I
promise," Justin said, trying anything he could to calm
them down. Other emergency vehicles arrived, and Justin
continued working to keep the children calm. "Is anyone
hurt besides the driver?" Justin asked.
"I hit my knee," one little boy said.
"I hit my head."
"My arm hurts."
"Is anyone bleeding?" All the kids he could see shook their
heads. "Is anyone else bleeding?"
"Timmy's hiding under the seat," one girl said.
"Make sure he's okay," Justin said, and he waited a few
seconds as the girl's ponytailed head disappeared.
"He's just scared," she reported. "He told me so."
"Very good. Please don't move around, and we'll get you all
out as fast as we can," Justin said, then turned around to
the gathering group of vehicles.
"How many are hurt?" Rockland Sparks asked him, and for a
brief second Justin's composure failed him. Damn, why did
he have to be the one who responded? Every time the EMT was
around, Justin got completely tongue–tied. Rock, as
everyone called him, was just that: built solid, with arms
that stretched his shirt sleeves. Justin swallowed and
opened his mouth to respond, hoping like hell some sort of
sound came out.
"The driver," Justin said, closing his eyes for a brief
moment to clear his head and moisten his dry mouth. "The
children seem to be okay. A few got banged up a bit, but
they say they're okay for the most part.
"What's the status?" the chief asked gruffly from behind
him.
Justin turned away from Rock to face the chief, wondering
which man made him more nervous. "When I arrived on the
scene, the bus was teetering on the edge. I got the
children to all move to the back, and the bus has
stabilized for the moment. The driver is injured, but the
bus is too unstable to get inside, and if we take the
children out, the weight will shift and the bus will go
over the edge," Justin reported quickly, still a bit in awe
of the chief and desperately wanting to do good and be
noticed.
"Any fuel leaking?" the chief asked.
"I smelled nothing when I was by the bus," Justin answered
as still more sirens sounded and additional fire trucks and
a massive tow truck arrived.
"Good. Keep the kids settled," he said, and then he hurried
away. Justin saw him consult with the various chiefs.
Justin hurried back to the bus with Rock just behind him.
Great, just what he needed—tongue–tied and
dry–mouthed. Taking a deep breath, he put it out of
his mind and focused on the task at hand.
"We're going to get you out really soon," Justin told the
kids. "Just sit still and everything will be fine."
Rock walked as close to the front of the bus as he could,
peering into what was left of one of the driver's windows.
He looked for a few minutes and then turned back to Justin,
the expression on his face saying everything. The driver
was most likely dead already. Justin and Rock continued
talking to the kids, and eventually Justin heard the beep,
beep, beep of a truck as it backed up.
"We're going to hook the tow truck to the bus to stabilize
it so we can get the kids out, then we'll pull it back onto
the road," the chief said from behind him. "You're doing
great," he added and then left again.
"What's happening?" one of the kids asked as the tow truck
got closer.
"We're going to get you out real soon—stay where you
are," Justin said, and he heard Rock telling the kids the
same thing from the other side of the bus. The beeping got
louder and then stopped. Men got out of the huge truck and
lowered a cable from the winch on the back. One of the men
walked it to the bus and took a few minutes to attach it to
the frame. Then a second cable was lowered and
attached. "Okay, tighten them," the one man called, and the
lines were tightened. The bus began to move, and the kids
screamed inside.
"Stop!" the operator called and the winch went silent.
"Okay, get those kids out. The concrete of the overpass
railing is starting to go," the chief said, and Justin
opened the back door of the bus, reached for the first
child, and lifted a little girl in a pink dress to the
ground. As soon as her feet touched the road, she burst
into tears, and an emergency worker led her away.
Justin was already reaching for the next child when the bus
shuddered and scraped. He lowered another girl and reached
for the little boy after her. "Go to the ambulance," he
told each one, not waiting for the emergency workers any
longer. He had to get these kids out of there.
"Just hand the kids to me," Rock said from next to him, so
Justin lifted the kids out of the bus and handed them to
Rock, who got them away from the bus. Kid after kid came
out. Justin's arms burned, but he kept working. Finally,
the last one appeared in the door, and Justin lifted him
down.
"Anyone else in there?" Justin called, looking down the
right and then the left row of seats. He saw nothing and
was about to move away when he heard a small cry. "There's
someone in there," Justin said, and he was about to climb
inside when Rock stopped him. "Someone has to
go—you're too big," Justin told Rock.
"Get a rope," Rock called, and one of the firemen, a huge
guy who looked like he was about to bust out of his
uniform, hurried over. "Lee, fasten it around his waist.
That way, if the bus starts to go, we can hopefully pull
him out."
"Okay," Lee said, and he fastened the heavy rope around
Justin's waist.
"Be careful, and no sudden moves," Rock said as Justin
slowly climbed up into the bus.
The nearly empty shell creaked and groaned with each
movement, and as Justin got closer to the front, he could
almost feel the tension the tow–truck cables were
under. It seemed to run right though his body. "Where are
you?" All Justin heard was a low whimper, and he followed
the sound. Seat by seat he got closer to the front, and the
floor under him moved a little more. "Please talk to me."
"Here," a small voice said, and then Justin heard crying.
"Can you move? If you can, stand up and slowly walk toward
me."
"I can't," the child said and then began to cry again.
Justin felt the floor move under his feet and knew he was
reaching the bus's pivot point. His weight was going to
start to shift the bus, but he had to continue, one row of
seats and then another, the bus creaking ominously with
each step.
"Are you okay?" Rock asked from behind him. "We have you,"
he added, and Justin nodded, his throat completely dry. He
took another step and reached the third seat. A small boy
of about five or so clutched the seat behind him, his legs
encased in braces.
"You're going to be okay," Justin said as he reached for
the little boy.
"My crutches went over there," he said and pointed to the
well by the front door.
"We'll get them later," Justin said, lifting the
featherlight kid into his arms. He turned and slowly
retraced his steps toward the back.
"Mama will be mad if I lose them," the boy said in a small
voice as the bus began to shift under their feet.
"Hurry," Rock cried. "The overpass railing isn't going to
last much longer." The bus moved and shifted violently.
Justin felt the rope around his waist pull tight, and he
began to run, clutching the boy in his arms. The bus began
shifting sideways and Justin wondered how much longer the
cables could hold. "The tow truck is being pulled," Rock
shouted, and Justin kept going as fast as he could,
climbing uphill as the bus tipped forward still more.
Justin reached the door as the bus moved further. Without
thinking, he jumped and hit the pavement, letting his legs
buckle and using his body to shield the boy as they rolled.
Someone lifted the kid from his arms, and then Rock lifted
Justin off the concrete and moved toward safer ground.
Justin heard a whir and looked up as the winch released its
tension. The concrete railing gave way, and the bus tumbled
over the precipice in a crash and rumble that felt like it
shook the entire world.
"Did everyone get out?" Justin asked before leaning his
head against Rock's chest and closing his eyes.
"Yes," Rock said. Justin's eyes got heavy and he closed
them. The last thing he remembered was Rock holding him
tight. Everything else blurred and then went dark.
Justin woke a few minutes later resting on something much
softer than the concrete. He opened his eyes and stared
into Rock's eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing
came out. Just the impression he wanted to make on the man
who filled his dreams.
"It's all right," Rock told him in a rich, resonant voice
that went through Justin like a hot knife through butter.
God, he wanted to listen to that voice for the rest of his
life. "You got pretty scraped up and bruised, but you're
going to be fine."
"Then...," he began, finally finding his voice again. "Then
why did I pass out?" Justin lifted his head and the world
stayed in one place.
"Stress. It happens sometimes," Rock explained, and then he
helped him up. "You're going to be fine, and so are all the
kids you got off that bus before it tumbled off the
overpass."
Justin looked around at the kids standing together. "What
about them?"
"We're transporting them to the elementary school, where
their parents are waiting for them," the chief said as he
appeared at Justin's side.
"Sorry, sir," Justin said as he stood up, making sure
everything was working.
"Nothing to be sorry for," the chief said. "Now, if you're
done lying down on the job"—he winked at him. The
chief actually winked—"we could use your help
transporting the kids to the school."
"Sure," Justin said, and the chief walked away. "Thank you
for everything," Justin stammered to Rock. "Umm, I have to
get back to work." God, he was such an idiot. It always
worked out this way. Every time he saw a guy he might be
interested in, he stammered and sounded like a moron. "I'll
see you," Justin said and hurried away. The kids were being
loaded into squad cars, and Justin helped three of them
into the backseat of his patrol car. Once he made sure they
were belted in, he slowly drove off the freeway and down
the ramp.
"Can you put on the siren?" one of the boys asked.
"I will when we get to the school," Justin answered, and
that seemed to satisfy the boy. He drove through town and
pulled up to the elementary school, where a group of
parents were waiting. He turned on the lights and siren and
pulled up to the group, then turned everything off again
and let the kids get out. The children were immediately
engulfed in their parents' arms, with plenty of crying,
more hugging, and then some more crying. Another car pulled
up and more kids got out. After more hugs, the families
drifted away, many thanking him for his help before
departing.
The other police cars left, and soon it was just Justin and
one extremely nervous family. "He's going to be fine. They
said he was fine. Just a scrape," the man said as he held
his wife. "Marky is going to be fine."
"I know," she said, "but what if he hadn't been able to get
off the bus?" She blew her nose in a tissue. "He can't walk
on his own very well." She buried her head in her husband's
shoulder. Justin was about to say something to them, but an
ambulance pulled into the drive and stopped near them. Rock
got out and walked around to the back. When he reappeared,
he was carrying the last little boy Justin had just gotten
out of the bus.
"Marky," the woman cried, rushing forward. Rock set him on
his feet, but she scooped the boy into her arms. "I was so
scared." She rocked him back and forth as she hugged him.
"I'm okay, Mommy," he said, and she stopped. "That man
saved me." He pointed at Justin. "He jumped out of the bus
just before it fell, boom! Then we falled, but I'm
okay—he says so." Marky pointed at Rock, who smiled.
"You saved my son?" the woman asked, and without waiting
for an answer, she hugged the stuffing out of Justin. "You
saved him."
"It's okay, Jane," her husband said gently, and she
transferred her hug to him.
"Don't be sad, Mommy. I'm okay. I lost my crutches, though.
They went boom in the bus," Marky said. His mother laughed
through the tears and hugged him again.
"We'll get you new crutches and new anything else you want,
as long as you're okay," she said. "Thank you, thank you
both for saving my son." She was crying again, and Justin
felt his throat constrict. The woman carried her son toward
the car with her husband behind her. Marky leaned over her
shoulder, waving to both of them before they bundled him
into the backseat. Justin watched as they drove away.
"That's why I became a cop," Justin said softly. "Not to
watch traffic, but for times like that." Justin took a deep
breath and turned to Rock after checking his watch. He was
officially off duty, and he wanted to ask Rock if he might
like to grab a bite to eat or something. The hours he'd
spent at the accident scene had felt like a few minutes.
But now that he was away from the chaos and things had
slowed down, he was starved. Justin caught Rock's gaze, and
he was sure the other man was looking at him with interest.
Maybe if he just asked him, he'd say yes. Justin was about
to say something when his mouth and throat went completely
dry. He tried to speak, but he knew he must have looked
like a ridiculous largemouth bass in a police uniform when
nothing at all came out. He tried again, but now he was so
nervous and flustered he couldn't stand it. He'd been able
to talk to Rock before, but that was about work and stuff,
and he hadn't thought about it. Now that he wanted to ask
him to go to dinner, nothing seemed to work and he felt
like an idiot. Trying to leave some of his dignity intact,
if that was possible, Justin walked hurriedly toward his
car, making a hasty retreat.
JUSTIN closed the door and tossed his keys on the table
before removing his equipment belt. His entire body felt
lighter as soon as he unsnapped the heavy belt. He rarely
noticed the extra fifteen pounds or so he carried until he
took it all off. The vest came next, and he held his arms
away from his body, letting his skin breathe. He wanted to
sink into a chair and do nothing, but his equipment had to
be taken care of. He went through his routine to see it was
all cleaned and properly put away and cared for before
wandering into the kitchen. He lived in a small apartment
above an antique store downtown. He loved the old building.
It had character, and his landlords had been thrilled to
have him move in. It seemed their last tenant had been
difficult, and they'd had to evict him. Justin refused to
let his thoughts wander all over the place, and his stomach
brought his attention to dinner.
In the kitchen, Justin reheated a quick
dinner—spaghetti with meat sauce he'd made on his
last day off—and settled in front of the television
to try to forget his idiocy. He couldn't understand it. He
could talk to anyone in the course of his job. He had no
problem there, but in a personal situation with someone he
was interested in, he clammed up, his heart raced, and his
voice completely escaped him. It truly sucked, and it
didn't only happen with Rock. When he'd been in college and
first started to explore being gay, instead of having fun,
he'd ended up a monk because he couldn't talk to guys who
interested him. Soon he'd given up altogether and
concentrated on his schoolwork and training, which served
him well because he'd been able to snag the one rookie
opening the Carlisle police had had in three years.
"Fuck," Justin grumbled as he slumped in his living room
chair. He'd been able to talk to Rock when they were
working together, and he'd thought that his problem might
actually have gone away. No such luck—as soon as he'd
thought Rock might be interested and decided to try to talk
to him about it, everything had gone to hell. Maybe he was
meant to be alone.
His buzzer sounded, indicating that someone was down at the
door to see him. Justin never had visitors, and it took him
a few seconds to realize what he was hearing. He got up and
opened his apartment door, then trudged down the stairs,
expecting to find some kids playing tricks or someone
selling something. As he reached the bottom of the stairs,
he saw Rock through the window in the door. Excitement
raced through him, and he swallowed, making sure his mouth
was wet before pulling open the door.
"What's wrong with you?" Rock asked, and Justin stared at
him wide–eyed as anger rolled off the other man in
waves. "We worked great together, and then you just left
like you couldn't get away from me fast enough back there.
Is it because I'm gay? If that's it, I ought to beat the
shit out of you right now to prove how big a man I am, you
little shit." Well, that answered that question. Now Justin
tried to figure out how to make his mouth work.
Justin opened his mouth and something that sounded
like "no"—at least to him—came out. He stood
there helpless, shaking with frustration.
"You don't have anything to say? I should have figured that
you were just a bigoted coward," Rock said before turning
and marching briskly away.
Justin reached for the door to slam it closed. Anger built
inside him. He might be many things, but he was nobody's
coward. He'd fucking rescued a kid from a bus just before
the damn thing tumbled off an overpass. He was no coward,
and he certainly wasn't a bigot. He stepped through the
doorway, raced up behind Rock, and yanked the man to a
stop, turning him at the same time. He opened his mouth to
say something, but again, the words wouldn't come. Fucking
hell, he thought. This was his one and probably only
chance. Rock had actually come to his place, and if he
couldn't bring himself to say something, or do something,
the chance he'd longed for would be gone forever.
Rock stared at him like he was an idiot, and Justin knew he
looked like one. When Rock stepped away, Justin knew this
was his last chance. He reached out, grabbed Rock's cheeks,
and kissed him with all his might. He might not be able to
get his freaking vocal cords to work, but his lips
certainly did, and Justin let them do the talking for him.
Rock didn't react right away, and Justin ended the kiss,
gazing quickly into Rock's eyes before realizing he'd
probably only made an even bigger idiot out of himself. He
stepped back and then turned around as the notion sunk in
that Rock probably already had a boyfriend, and he'd just
been kissing another man right on the sidewalk where
everyone could see them. At least he wasn't in uniform, but
still, probably not the smartest thing he'd ever done.
Well, screw it, he thought while he turned around, striding
back toward his building. Inside, Justin slammed the door
closed and climbed the stairs. At least Rockland Sparks
wouldn't be calling him a coward again anytime
soon—stupid, maybe, but not a coward.
At the top of the stairs, Justin went inside his apartment,
then closed the door behind him before flopping back into
his living room chair with a huff. He'd been completely
stupid to kiss Rock like that, and he was probably lucky
the huge man hadn't punched his lights out—not that
Justin couldn't defend himself. What bothered him most was
how Rock's lips had tasted and felt. His own lips still
tingled from the touch. At least once, just once, he'd
gotten to kiss Rockland Sparks. He curled his lips into a
slight smile.
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