by Anthology
Brendan shrugged off Rose, the way he had always pushed away anything too cumbersome for his mind and heart to manage. Before the memory completely disappeared, he smiled, knowing if she could see him now, she would accuse him of letting go when things got complicated.
She had never understood, not really. In a world continuously deconstructing, Brendan preferred to focus on what he was meant to affect. It was enough for him to lay his hands on the small chunk of world given him and see it left in a better place.
Rose, if left to her inclinations, would tear the whole world apart just to have the thrill of piecing it back together.
“You comin’, Eyes?” Cortez beckoned him from the Station 75 truck.
Eyes. Even the boys from another station knew Brendan’s nickname. Fantastic. It wasn’t his fault he had been born with a natural intensity. Unfortunate that he was known more for his brooding nature than his quickness or grace under pressure, but that was the way of this world, and it was easier to take it in stride.
“We have an updated status?”
Cortez held the door open with an impatient frown. “They have the line around the fire complete. We’ll be relieving the overnight shift.”
Brendan jumped in and the truck rumbled off. “Great. If it’s already contained this should be easy.”
“Should, but we’re hearing there’s been a complication.”
Another firefighter, someone Brendan didn’t know and assumed must be from another company, rolled her eyes and laughed. “If you call the psycho who started the fire standing in the center of it, tossing flamethrowers to thwart our efforts a ‘complication,’ I’d like to know how you define an actual problem.”
Brendan shook his head. “Sorry?”
“Eastwood, who told you that?” Cortez shook his head. “That’s bullshit. It would be all over the news, and the cops would be out there with emergency response.”
Eastwood shrugged and flipped the cup on her thermos. She poured steaming liquid. “I guess Station 71 doesn’t keep their boys informed.”
“Or 75 likes to make shit up because they spend too much time rescuing kittens from storm drains,” he countered.
“One kitten. One time.”
As they continued their bickering, Brendan closed his eyes and tuned out the noise. After all these years on the job, he’d learned to sleep under damn near any circumstance.
They piled out of the truck and descended into mayhem.
Two dozen trucks lined the perimeter, spaced to each hydrant. Someone, a lieutenant, came forward to brief them and give instruction they couldn’t hear over the circling choppers dropping water from the sky.
“Line… containment… jeopardy… woman…” He heard every fifth or sixth word, straining against the cacophony of blurred uniforms and hazy air. The smoke was thick, fresh. In a few days, it would have damp heaviness about it, a lingering reminder of a bygone problem.
Brendan followed the rush of newly arriving trucks, carried toward the source of the flames. When he arrived at the perimeter, he was shocked to see there were no active extinguishing efforts. Everything appeared to be at a standstill.
“What’s happening?” he asked one of the crew.
“There’s a woman there. In the clearing, almost dead center. Can you see?”
Brendan craned his neck, and stretched upward, but there was no use. The gathering, gawking group of firefighters was too thick. “Nothing.”
“We’re stuck until someone can get her the hell out of there.”
“Why can’t we manage around her?”
“If you could see her location, you’d understand. Any efforts would end up injuring her, too. Which, if she started this damn fire, I can’t say I’d be too sad about.”
Brendan sighed, removing his helmet. The heat from the fire and the summer day were, together, oppressive. “Where are the police?”
The man shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, brother. But she’s wearing a suit.”
“She’s Fire and Rescue?”
“That or she stole it. But she’s cut her own containment line around where she’s standing. She knows what she’s doing.”
She knows what she’s doing.
Brendan stretched again, hoping for a view. He couldn’t explain the growing pit in his stomach, and he wasn’t ready to explore the source. “Why the hell is she there? Has she said anything?”
“One of the battalion chiefs was up there trying to talk her down earlier, but she said she won’t talk to anyone but her boyfriend, I guess. Keeps demanding to see him and won’t respond to anything else.” The fireman waved at someone down the line. “Gotta go.”
Brendan swallowed. He needed to get to the front of the line. “Did she give a name so we can track him down?”
The man gave his response over his shoulder. “I don’t know. Brandon, or something?”
His eyes confirmed what his heart already knew.
“Rose,” he croaked, barely above a whisper. Two years since he’d said it out loud, and it felt foreign on his tongue, but also painfully familiar, like returning to a childhood haunt. “Rose!”
“Brendan!”
He couldn’t look at the gathered crowd or he would lose his nerve. He felt it, though. Felt their eyes boring holes in his suit, felt the unasked questions and ready judgment.
“Rose!” he cried, making this next decision as he said the words. “I’m coming to you, don’t move!”
Hands from all over tried to stop him, to warn him of the danger, but once again he was compelled forward. Perhaps he was channeling Rose and her special brand of fearlessness. He knew only that a single direction awaited.
Grabbing a fire shield, he wound a path through the flames, taking advantage of the clearing’s edge and Rose’s own handiwork. When he reached her, he set it aside and regarded her in silence.
“You came. I didn’t think you would,” she said, pulling the helmet off. Black hair tumbled out, falling over her shoulders, reminding him of better times.
“You did this.” It wasn’t a question. The fire in her eyes had ten times the power of what burned around the two of them.
Her hand fell on his forearm. He could barely detect it through his suit, but he could still, even now, imagine the softness of her palm. “Does it remind you of anything?”
“Rose, we have to get you out of here,” he said, reaching down to grab her helmet from the wet grass. “I need you to stay behind m—“
She ripped the helmet from his hand and tossed it away. “Does it, Bren? Remind you of anything?”
Brendan kept his eyes at his feet, at the burning forest nearby. Anywhere but on her gaze. “This isn’t safe, Rose! We’ll talk about whatever you want, I promise, but we need to get out of this area and let them work.”
“This is the only place we’ll be having this talk, because as soon as I leave this circle, I’ll be arrested, and you know, it,” Rose said with a cool confidence. “Answer my question.”
“You know the answer already or we wouldn’t be here,” Brendan snapped. “So, you lit up the park, why? Because you missed the way things were back home? Why did you even stay in St. Louis after we broke up? There was nothing here for you.”
“I missed you,” she answered. She reached for his face, but he recoiled.
Brendan laughed, throwing his arms wide as he backed away. “You never have been able to just step softly to the point, have you? You could have called me. We could have had coffee, or lunch, or pretty much anything other than setting fire to an entire city park!”
“I did call you,” Rose said, not rising to his abrupt shift to anger. “I tried to talk to you, Brendan. I tried all the normal ways girls try to appeal to their boys. I guess I could have sent flowers…”
“This isn’t funny. Or is it, for you? Is this a new way to thrill seek, is that it? You can’t just save the day, you have to be the one to destroy it first?”
“I think we’d both agree destroying things has always been a
strength of mine.”
He chanced a look at Rose. Her face spread into a smile, but the gesture didn’t match her calculated words. What he saw behind her eyes cracked his heart. The twitch at the corners of her mouth gutted him.
In a heartbeat, everything changed. “Oh, Rose. Honey…”
She crumbled at the softness, and he caught her. Everything he’d seen in the moments leading to this one had been a carefully constructed façade, meant to match the Rose he’d known and loved all those years, but it was not her, not at all. She had changed in the years apart.
Or had she always been this way and he’d chosen to put her in a box and see her as she wanted to be seen? Had he somehow failed her in this absence of observation?
“I’m scared, Brendan,” she cried against his chest. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I didn’t know how to get your attention…”
“I know,” he whispered against her smoky hair. “I’m here now.”
Brendan held her, considering how their entire dynamic had shifted in the void of their daily love. In the two years apart, Rose had slowly self-destructed, culminating in the tragedy unfolding around them. In his love for her, he had seen her through a lens that didn’t allow him to guess that this had been happening all along. That she was not the renegade she believed herself to be, but a mortal passenger on this earth who desired love and acceptance as much as anyone else.
The real tragedy, Brendan realized, was that, even now, she would rather set the world on fire than admit she was fallible.
“It’s going to be okay, Rose,” he said, more confident this time, understanding and accepting the reversal of roles as he lifted her into his arms and she allowed it, even falling against him in submission.
“Don’t leave me, Brendan. Promise me.”
“I won’t,” he vowed. He looked over her head toward the police awaiting his signal, amidst the sea of eager firefighters. He offered a sad nod in their direction, silent approval. “I promise.”
Chapter 4
The Chase By Michelle Dare
“Guess what?” my sister yelled, as she pushed my front door open with a force that could rival a linebacker. My head snapped up at the sound.
Letting out a sigh of relief, and relaxing, knowing it wasn’t a burglar, I said, “Elyssa, you know it’s rude not to knock before entering, right?”
The huge smile on her face faltered momentarily. “Oh, shove it.” Dropping down onto my couch, her smile got bigger the longer she stared at me. She was my younger sister by five years. I was thirty-five.
“You going to tell me or am I supposed to guess?” I asked. There were days I really regretted giving her a key to my place.
“Josh proposed!” she screeched, while shoving her left hand in my face.
“Holy shit, that’s amazing!” We both stood and I embraced her in a huge hug while lifting her off the ground. I towered over most women. Not her, though. She was only two inches shorter than my six-foot-four frame.
Placing her back on her feet, I took her hand in mine. “That’s one hell of a ring, Sis.” The diamond was square and large. I had no idea what kind of cut it was, or what the band was made of, because I didn’t know shit about jewelry.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” She was beaming. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swayed from side to side as she bounced around. My hair was lighter than hers and cut close on the sides with longer hair on top.
“It is. He must have spent a lot on it.” Luckily, Josh owned a car dealership out in the burbs. He was relaxed and down to earth. At work he didn’t try to shove cars on his customers, and he treated everyone that worked for him well. In turn, they busted their asses for him.
“I told him I didn’t need a huge rock.” I raised an eyebrow at her. “What? I’m not some money hungry bitch.”
I chuckled. “I know you’re not, but he knows you like nice things.”
“Come on, Logan. Who doesn’t? Being a paramedic doesn’t exactly give me the salary to live a life of luxury.” My sister and I were on the same rescue squad in St. Louis. I was a paramedic as well.
“You mean you don’t consider this apartment a palace?” I swept my arms wide.
She rolled her hazel eyes, which matched mine in color. “Your apartment is great and you know that.”
“Sure, but it’s not mine. I only lease it.”
In truth, I loved the style of my apartment. It was a loft with a high, wooden ceiling. Exposed piping and ductwork snaked its way throughout the space. The kitchen was small, but modern like the rest of the apartment. The floors were wooden and more worn looking. They were original to the old printing building and repurposed for the apartments inside.
“One day you’ll have enough saved to have your own place. Or…” she said dragging out the last word. “You could always take Mom and Dad up on the offer to buy you a bigger apartment or townhouse.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “You know I don’t want their money. I moved out here to get the hell away from them.”
“And to be closer to your sister.” I looked up and saw the huge smile on her face. She loved having me out here with her.
My sister used to travel often and hop from city to city until she landed in St. Louis. Once here, she fell in love then begged me to move. Lucky for her, I wanted to move as far away from New York City as I could. Having a sister living in another major city was perfect. If I wanted to continue being a paid paramedic, I needed a large city that employed rather than had a volunteer rescue squad.
My parents were less than thrilled about having two of their three children away from home. Fortunately, my brother soaked up their attention and followed in my father’s footsteps by going to work in corporate America. Dad retired last year. He was the Chief Financial Officer for a company in the heart of the city.
I worked at a lot of different jobs as a teenager. College never screamed my name. Fortunately, I found my calling as a paramedic. It was something I never knew I wanted to do until we almost lost my mom to a heart attack.
I was twenty and still living at home. She collapsed in front of me, and I didn’t know what to do to help her. I watched as a police officer and paramedics went to work saving her life. From that point on, I knew what I wanted to do.
The adrenaline rush of going on a call, knowing you could help save someone’s life, was heady. Lyss saw how much I loved doing it and decided to do the same. Plus, she had a police officer obsession back then. Something about the uniform. Can’t say I blamed her. There were some hot as hell cops on the NYPD. Some of which I got to know very well.
Looking at my sister, who still sat beaming beside me, I asked, “When’s the big day?”
“No clue. Once I tell Mom about the engagement, she’ll be booking a country club, or some other place, I have zero desire to be married at.”
“You can choose where you get married, Lyss.”
“Sure I can. Keep thinking that. We both know Mom is controlling and will fly out here the second I tell her so she can start scoping out places.”
Fuck. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with my parents. At least having a one bedroom apartment meant no one would stay with me. Dear old Mom and Dad would never be caught sleeping on a pull-out couch.
“Maybe they’ll start on you finding that special someone while they’re out here,” she added.
“Oh, no. They better not.”
“Mom might run around St. Louis trying to find you a sexy man to be your happily ever after.”
I groaned, “I don’t need her help finding someone.” I really didn’t. Besides, only one man caught my attention lately. Lyss winked at me. I wondered why. She could be so cryptic.
Glancing at the clock, I realized I had thirty minutes before my shift started. “I gotta run. I need to shower before work.”
“We haven’t been on the same schedule in a while.” Her smile dropped. “You could’ve been asleep when I came in. I’m sorry.”
“Could’ve. Woul
dn’t have been for long, though.” I winked. As much of a pain in the ass as she could be, I loved her; loved living close to her.
She laughed and stood. We hugged before I walked her out.
Today I was riding with Ella. She was usually who I rode with. When we were transporting, she drove while I stayed in the back with the patient. Otherwise, I rode up front with her.
We stopped outside of a small mini mart to pick up something to eat. I ran inside, grabbing water, two prepackaged sandwiches, and chips. We had just gotten done taking a woman with a head laceration to the hospital and thought we should eat something before we got another call.
There was a fully engulfed warehouse downtown that another squad had been dispatched to. I knew which firefighters were down there. I knew all of them. One in particular I liked to watch, one of the drivers of Station 69.
Colton Pryor wasn’t your typical firefighter and that made him all the more enticing to me. Not many men or women firefighters and paramedics were gay. Actually, very few were. Those men that were, I tried to keep my distance from. I wasn’t one to mix business and pleasure. Colt was different.
Tall, chestnut brown hair, crystal blue eyes. Shy, but confident in what he did for a living. Fuck, he was everything I dreamt of in a man. They called him Speedy. He was the driver of their ladder truck. My hope was that he wasn’t speedy in the bedroom. That was one place where I liked things to go slow and a little rough. In my line of work everything went at the speed of light. When not working, I liked things to slow down.