by Patty Blount
I wiped tears from my eyes and waited for him to go on.
“It took them twenty minutes to cut us out of the car, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop—” He clenched his hands into fists, then opened his hands and just stared at them.
They shook.
It was a long moment before he spoke again. “Matt—God! I woke up alone, and the nurses, the doctors, none of them would tell me anything. He…he died while I was asleep in my hospital bed. I broke an arm. He had a broken leg, broken ribs, broken neck.”
He looked up at us then, and his eyes were heartbreak and blame. Bear sniffled and then put a hand on Reece’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze. Reece jolted. It was like he forgot we were there.
“Dad didn’t want to tell me. He didn’t want me at the funeral. He wouldn’t talk to me. Wouldn’t look at me. Until I made him.”
Gage’s eyebrows shot up. “By joining J squad?”
Reece nodded once. “At first. But not now, not anymore. Now it’s for me.” He spread his hands. “And for you.”
Everybody just stared at him for a minute. “Logan, we don’t want payback. We’re a team.” Gage waved a hand around the table. “Are you telling us you’re in this for the long haul?”
He nodded. “I am. Definitely.”
This time, his voice held this really solid note of certainty, and there was a part of me that punched the air and shouted Yes! If he was planning to stick around, there was a chance, a really thin one, that he and I could be together when I was on my own, with no more rules, and I didn’t know why, but I wanted that more than birthday cupcakes in bed.
I stood up, excused myself, and practically ran to the restroom for the second time this evening to hide my hopes behind a stall door. By the time I got back, only Bear and Reece were left at the table. Reece had his head down.
“Where’d everybody go?”
Bear jerked his chin at the exit. “Max had a date. Ty and Kevin got a ride with him.”
“Great,” I muttered. “What about you, Reece? No dates?”
“I wish.” Reece sat back in his chair, wiped a hand over his mouth, and picked at a nacho chip—didn’t eat it, just picked it apart. “Last winter, I fell for somebody,” he began, and I felt a pinch deep in my chest.
Last winter?
“What’s she like, dude?” Bear leaned in.
“She’s got this, I don’t know, this style that’s hard-core strength under a layer of pure soft.” He laughed once. “I can’t explain it, but God, I love to watch her move.”
Even though it killed me by syllables, I clung to every word he spoke.
“She didn’t know I existed for a long time, and then one day, she got close enough for me to smell her. She reminds me of lemonade.” He held up his glass and took a sip, shutting his eyes. “I didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t want her to notice me, because I would have bet money on it that she was like everybody else in my life who thought Matt was Superman or something.”
Oh God. I wanted to squeeze his hand and tell him he’s cool too, but I couldn’t risk it.
“I imagine these scenes,” he said, drawing the glass along his flushed face. “These elaborately staged moments when she’d tell me it was never Matt but me she wanted, and then we’d kiss and it would be so amazing, so intense, so fucking hot, it would set records.”
Tears stung the back of my eyes. Oh yes, I wanted a kiss like that. I wanted that kiss. I looked away, disappointment crushing me from the inside out.
“Man, you okay?” Bear nudged me.
“Oh, um, sure. I gotta get back to the Becketts’ house. See ya.”
“Later,” Bear said.
I walked away, cursing my mother and her stupid boyfriend the whole way home.
Chapter 15
Reece
You made me. But you could never be proud of me, could you? I was different. Alien. And that only made you mad.
It had been a hell of a night. I climbed up the front steps to Alex’s door, knocked, and bounced impatiently until he answered.
“Hey! Did you see my text? It’s working, Alex!”
He didn’t smile. “Great.”
I peered at him carefully. “You okay?”
“Fine. What text?”
My smile faded. “Oh, um, nothing. I thought I’d tell you how my class went.”
He didn’t invite me inside. “It’s kind of late.”
“Dude, it’s barely ten o’clock.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I frowned at him. “You’re not fine. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Okay.” He was obviously lying, so I tried changing the subject. “We did knots tonight, and then the squad invited me to the diner with them. Alex, it was great! All that studying with Bear—it paid off. I practiced knot tying on some old clothesline I found in the basement. When Dad started class tonight, he told us a story about how he fucked up—do you believe that? My dad actually made a mistake once?”
Alex nodded and smiled with tight lips while I babbled on and on about my class and finally gave up. Obviously, he didn’t want to hear about it and didn’t want to talk about whatever was wrong. His eyes were flat, and the muscles in his neck were tight. Didn’t need a genius to tell me Alex was pissed.
At me.
“Okay.” I nodded grimly. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “No apology needed. Like I said, I’m fine.”
Fine. Sure. Okay. “See you tomorrow?”
He snorted. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
I hovered in the open doorway, a ball of nausea swelling in my gut. “Alex, please. Tell me what I did wrong.”
“Nothing, Reece. You did nothing.”
He closed the door in my face.
I sat down on Alex’s front steps, gripped my head in my hands, and tried to figure out what I did—or didn’t do. It wasn’t his birthday. We didn’t have plans that I forgot about. I paid him back for the movie tickets he bought. I stared at the stars and wondered why in hell somebody was always pissed off at me. I finally—finally!—got somewhere with my dad, and now my best friend doesn’t want to hear about it.
Maybe I should just go now…forget about J squad.
I took out my note and started writing.
***
The days passed slowly.
Alex had graduated from avoiding and evading me to outright animosity. I still didn’t have any idea what I’d done wrong and felt his absence almost as deeply as Matt’s. Despite the churning in my gut, I slept like the dead every night. Must be all those hours of working out.
I was able to carry thirty pounds up and down those bleachers now. I could don personal protective gear in under two minutes. I could conserve tank oxygen for up to fifteen minutes and tie knots blindfolded.
Saturday morning, I woke with the sun. Practice day. The whole J squad had been buzzed about this for days. Once a month, the squad practiced at the county training academy in the next town. Today was that day.
I whistled for Tucker, but he twitched an ear as if to say, “Oh hell no,” and burrowed deeper in his bed.
“Come on, pal. Want a treat?”
The dog stretched, pulled himself up, and padded out of my room without a single look back.
I sighed. “Jeez, you too?”
If there was anybody not mad at me for some reason, I’d like to meet him.
Once Tucker got some food in his belly, he was happy to go for a long walk. I took him by Alex’s house, and he immediately turned up the walk, familiar with the route.
“No, boy. Alex doesn’t want to see us anymore.”
The dog whimpered.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Back home, I headed for Matt’s gym equipment in the basement, did a half-hour workout, and got ready to leave.
�
�You’re up early,” Mom said on a yawn. She padded downstairs in her pajamas, hair pulled up in a ponytail.
“I have to go to the training academy today. Can I take the car?”
She shrugged. “I guess so. I have no plans today. When are you going to fix my wall?”
I blinked at her. “Crap, I forgot. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I totally forgot about it.”
She held out car keys. “You’re not going to get hurt, right?”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “We’re not allowed to practice with real fire.” I took the keys, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she grabbed me in a fierce hug.
“Reece, please don’t take any risks just to impress Dad.”
She didn’t say it. But I knew what she was thinking. It was a waste of time and effort. Didn’t mean I shouldn’t try. “I won’t, Mom.”
But I would. Of course I would.
By eight o’clock, I was parked in the lot of the training facility, a huge firefighters’ playground that served the whole county. I looked around at the fake structures, the junked vehicles—all kinds of things designed to build skills.
I was early, so I sat in the car, my note spread on the center console, and jotted down another line or two, waiting for my squadmates. A knock on the window startled me out of my thoughts. Amanda stood there wearing turnout pants, and I sucked in a sharp breath. The sun did things to her hair—things that made me wish I could reach out and touch it. The suspenders on her pants emphasized her chest. With that strong, tall body, Amanda Jamison could totally pose for one of those firefighter calendars. She didn’t care how she looked, and damn if that didn’t make her hotter.
But looking was all I could ever do. She’d made that clear.
“You gonna stare all day or are you ready to work?”
I gulped hard and nodded. “Oh, yeah, right. Okay.”
“Come on.” She strode off, and for a second, I stood and watched her move. The way she walked made me want to pull up a chair. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to strut like that and have people watch me when I did.
I sighed. Yeah, right. I couldn’t even talk to my own dad.
I stuffed the note back into my pocket, locked up the car, and jogged to catch up to Amanda. Across the lot, Engine 21 was parked. I’d never heard it pull in. She opened a compartment and started handing me gear. “I asked Chief Duffy for a set of turnouts for you. The helmet and the coat are pretty new, but the pants have seen better days. It’s practice gear. You stick it out until you’re seventeen, you’ll get your own brand-new ensemble.” She smiled like she really wanted that to happen.
“Cool.”
“Suit up and meet us over there.” She pointed west where a cluster of people in turnouts gathered by a replica of a shopping strip. “We’re doing a little informal competition with the squads from Holtsville and Laurel Point. Winner gets a stupid trophy.” She rolled her eyes, but something in her tone told me she wanted that win.
Badly.
“I can do this,” I assured her. “I’m ready.”
She nodded. “First up is hose handling. We’ll go in with charged lines and fight pretend fires.”
I nodded and put on the practice gear.
Two hours later, I swore I’d sweated off five pounds dragging the charged line. Hose handling was a lot harder than it looked. But now I totally understood why Amanda had me drag a weighted rope around every day. We’d spent the morning learning how to connect, charge, and advance the line. Now it was time to apply that training.
“Sweat in training so you don’t bleed in battle.” Dad grinned at us. “It’s an old saying. You guys ready for this?”
“Copy that.” Gage grinned back.
We took shifts going inside the replica of a shopping center—a taxpayer, Amanda called it. It was just a strip of single-level stores, empty except for a few obstacles.
“Team Two, ready!” Dad shouted.
Amanda and I took our positions, with me clutching the nozzle and her directly behind me, supporting the hose. It took two firefighters to handle a hose under pressure.
“Remember what we practiced. Keep your hands here.” Amanda adjusted my grip so that the nozzle was as far from my hands as my arms would allow. “At the signal, open the nozzle. Aim high, then go low.”
I didn’t quite get that part. We’d been instructed to aim water high before we got inside, and then aim it at the fire. Combination attack, Amanda said it was called. It had something to do with maintaining a thermal balance. I’d read all about this, but so far, it was just another fact I had memorized without understanding it.
“Go!”
In tandem, we moved the hose to the front of the single-story unit. Amanda tapped my shoulder, and I opened the nozzle, almost losing my grip. The force, Jesus, the force was unbelievable. Who knew water could have so much power? The hose jackhammered in my hand.
“Too much! Close it a bit,” Amanda shouted.
I pulled back on the lever, and the recoil smoothed out. Water shot from the nozzle like a cannon. We moved into the store, and I did what Amanda taught me, spraying water high and around. Our job was to advance the attack line to the back of the store. We kept the hose to our right and slowly crawled on hands and knees through the interior. Keeping my balance was damn near impossible with the hose fighting me and the equipment suffocating me, but I managed not to fall.
“Keep looking around!” Amanda ordered. “Look for flames crawling across the ceiling, buckling in supports.”
Right. I learned the stream of water went wherever I looked.
Abruptly, the water cut off.
“Switch!” Dad’s instructions came over our radios. Amanda took the nozzle, and I fell behind her to act as backup. The line was charged, and I took hold of it, tapping Amanda’s shoulder to signal I was ready. Smoothly, she opened the nozzle—there was no kickback—and began advancing toward the rear. The stream of water hiccupped. I looked behind me to see the hose had gotten caught on the door of the building. I tapped Amanda’s shoulder and jerked my thumb at the door. She nodded, and together, we followed the hose line backward, out of the building, so we could unkink it.
Outside, we were met with applause from the rest of J squad.
I peeled off my helmet and mask and wiped my face.
“Holy shit, Logan! Didn’t think you’d remember not to leave your partner. I almost had a heart attack when the lieutenant looped the hose over the door.” Kevin clapped me on the back.
Dad stood with lieutenants from the other stations, conferring quietly over their clipboards. I slid him a look. Of course he’d deliberately try to trip me up.
Dad caught my eye and snapped, “Get back in the rotation. Practice opening and closing that nozzle until you can do it with no jackhammering.”
I vibrated with fury, my hands curling into fists. I wanted to hit him so badly. Instead, I just pressed my lips together while he sneered. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Murmurs of frustration went up among my squadmates.
“Logan.” Amanda shot me a look of exasperation. “Why don’t you ever stand up to him?”
You wouldn’t understand. I just shook my head and walked away.
I popped the trunk on my mother’s car and started unfastening all my borrowed gear. A cluster of guys were laughing as they stowed their own gear in the SUV parked across from me. I chugged water from a bottle, poured some over my sweaty head, and jerked when one of those guys called out.
“Hey, Logan.” A cadet from Holtsville waved at me. He wore a station uniform with the slogan Professionally Staffed by Volunteers inscribed over his heart. “You’re Matt Logan’s brother, right?”
I nodded, wary.
“When I was twelve, I volunteered at LVFD. Your dad trained me,” he said and waited
a beat to see if I’d smile and call him by name and invite him to Sunday dinner or something.
I didn’t.
Half the county could say they were trained by my dad. Didn’t mean anything…to me. But to Dad? I knew the fire service forged some strong bonds. Dad claimed they were stronger than fire itself. I didn’t know about that. I did know they were stronger than blood.
“Sorry to hear about your brother, man.”
I snapped up straight. “Oh, um, yeah, thanks.”
“All of us were damn sorry to hear about him.” He waved a hand to include his group. Some of those guys jerked their chins in acknowledgment, and before I could scrape my jaw off the ground, they’d piled into the SUV and pulled away. I managed to lift a hand to wave as they drove off.
Yeah. Strong bonds.
A sudden breeze blew, and I put aside those thoughts. I shrugged out of my bunker coat. My T-shirt stuck to my back, so I peeled that off too. I rolled my shoulders and stretched out the kinks. I shoved a hand into my pocket. Phone, wallet—oh God, it was gone. I patted all my pockets, then turned them inside out—nothing.
The note was gone.
I stood there, practically hyperventilating, dimly wondering why I kept hearing my name.
“Logan! Logan!”
I blinked and found Gage jogging up to me. “Is this yours? I think it fell out of your pocket.”
In his hand, he held a damp, folded square of paper. My knees buckled. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“What is it?” Gage peered at me, his eyes narrowed.
I sighed. “A good-bye letter I’ve been working on.”
Frowning, Gage stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Thought you said you were in this all the way.”
“Oh, I am. I was thinking of enlisting. You know. Army. Maybe Marines.”
Gage’s dark eyes popped. “You’re kidding me.”
“Well, it’s no secret my dad doesn’t want me around. I figured if I…left, he and my mom might get back together.” I shrugged. “Now, I’m not so sure.”