Set the Night on Fire: A Bad Boy Firefighter Novel

by Parker, Weston

  Probably because he was always riddled with stress. He wasn’t that old, though. Not yet.

  “Derek, we have to talk about something that might be rather… unpleasant.”

  My palms were instantly clammy. “Are you firing me?”

  “What? No.” Rinehart shook his head. “Apologies. I realize how my phrasing may have been misinterpreted. No, I’m not firing you. Initially when I asked you to meet me this morning after you worked on the truck yesterday, I had planned on having a good talk with you. I wanted to pull you out of the box.”

  “But?” I asked. There was a but there. I could feel it vibrating in the air all around us, ominous and heavy like a massive, bloodthirsty mosquito hellbent on sticking me with its sucker.

  “But,” Rinehart sighed, “I’ve recently been bombarded by some reporters from the local paper who seem to be out for blood.”

  So, my analogy about the mosquito was apt. “Whose blood?” I asked for clarification. It was a question that didn’t need to be asked because I already knew the answer.

  “Yours.”

  “Great,” I said. “What have I done now?”

  Rinehart sat up a little straighter to rest his elbows on the desk. I noticed that his moustache was not trimmed as immaculately as it normally was. He was flustered. One might even say he was frazzled. And the chief was never anything less than perfectly put together. This was bigger than I thought. “They caught wind of some of the misdemeanours from your past, Derek, and they’re on a witch hunt to end your career.”

  That was out of left field. I felt my eyes widen a bit, and I consciously had to put in the effort to relax my face. I gripped the armrests of my chair instead. “Can they do that? End my career, I mean?”

  “Not on my watch they can’t. These are foolish people who think they know what’s best for this station. But they don’t know you or the crew or me. They don’t know the job, either. I’m on your side, Janson.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Rinehart nodded. “But for now, I think it’s best if we keep you in the box with Yellich.”

  I nodded and wiped my clammy hands on my jeans.

  “It’s nothing personal, you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t want to give these vultures any ammunition, and they don’t know you’re in the box so they won’t know where you’re going when you’re responding to calls. I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

  “Do you think they’re going to try to follow me?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “They’re reporters, Derek. They have no sense of personal boundaries. It’s their job to invade your personal space.”

  “Right.”

  “Let’s keep this between me and you for now. The less people who know about it, the better.” Rinehart nodded like he had said everything he wanted to.

  But I wasn’t ready to leave. I had questions of my own. “Do you know about my misdemeanors then?”

  The chief paused for a long moment. For a good ten seconds or so, I thought he wasn’t going to bother answering me. “I do, yes. I know about the car theft, the petty robbery, and the assault.”

  “Assault is a strong word,” I muttered.

  “It’s the word in the report.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. I’d been a fool to think I could run from my past forever. At some point or another, it was all going to come to light. I sighed in frustration. “How will this paint the station in the public’s eyes?”

  Rinehart studied me. “If the reporters get their way, it will demonize our operation.”

  “And what’s their end game? Why waste so much time trying to make a villain out of us when that’s not the case at all?”

  Rinehart shrugged. “Someone is gunning for my job.”

  “And they might succeed because I robbed a gas station when I was sixteen?”

  This time, Rinehart remained silent.

  “That’s fucking bullshit. Sir,” I added.

  I thought I saw him smile. Rinehart’s expression shifted back to neutral, and he nodded. “I agree. It is bullshit. But there’s nothing we can do for the time being, so we’ll leave it alone. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You may go. Remember, this stays between us.”

  I stood up and left. I was seething. My jaw was clenched, and my fists were tight as I went back into the kitchen. The guys started making comments as I braced myself over the sink. That was definitely not what I needed right now. I needed space. Quiet. Time to sort through all the shit Rinehart had just dropped in my lap.

  “I’m not in the mood,” I said.

  I’d made some mistakes when I was young. I’d fallen in with the wrong crowd and, like most sixteen-year-old boys, was susceptible to their persuasion. The robbery at the gas station was just one of the things my group of friends had talked me into in my youth.

  I’d also jumped a kid who went to my school on his way home from the library one night. I roughed him up pretty good, took the cash out of his wallet, and left him on the sidewalk with a bloody nose and a split lip, among other things.

  And I’d been caught drinking when I was underage more than once. And using a couple other illegal substances. I definitely did not have a squeaky-clean record.

  I probably didn’t deserve my position in the fire department. The rest of the guys were better men than I was. They hadn’t done the things I’d done.

  But Rinehart was standing behind me.

  And he might lose his job for it.

  I hung my head and closed my eyes as I breathed out slowly to calm the storm that raged inside me. “Fuck.”

  20

  Katie

  Weekend shifts in the ER were always, without fail, miserable. Especially at night.

  People were off work, which meant they had more time to do stupid shit, which in turn meant they were more likely to hurt themselves and end up sitting in the waiting room, waiting to be seen by a doctor for a broken foot, wrist, finger, or collarbone. The ER was also familiar with lawn mower accidents, sick kids, and an array of stoned teenagers who had smoked too much weed and thought they were dying.

  I hadn’t had a break in over eight hours. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, and my back hurt. All I wanted was to go home, lie down, and turn my brain off for a bit because when I was not with patients, I was thinking about Emily and wondering how she was doing. I hadn’t heard from her since her date with Brian, and she’d had to call in and switch her shift for today at the last minute because she wasn’t feeling well.

  A sick nurse was a nurse who should stay home.

  I hated working when Emily wasn’t there. Even though I was surrounded by people, I still felt lonely. I needed someone I could vent to for two minutes before hopping to my next patient so I could clear my head and get rid of my frustration.

  But today, I had to carry it with me from bed to bed, wishing and waiting for the day to end.

  Before stepping around the corner to see my next patient in line, I took a deep breath, exhaled, and rubbed my eyes. I stretched and cracked my back, and then I came around the corner feeling a little more refreshed.

  In the bed was a young boy. He was eight years old, and his little face was scrunched up in pain. His mother, a timid, shaky, thin, curly-haired woman, looked up at me with wide green eyes. “How come he hasn’t seen a doctor yet?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Whitton. I’m sorry there has been a delay. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right. The doctor has already reviewed the file, and we know what the problem is. Has anyone been by to explain it to you?”

  She shook her head.

  I nodded. “All right. Your son has appendicitis. You caught it early, so that’s great. He will have to go in for surgery, and they’re preparing the operating room now. Another nurse will be coming to get your son shortly. Probably within the next ten minutes.”

  “Appendicitis?” the mother asked shakily.

  “Yes.” I nodded.
“Nowadays, it’s a very simple procedure. I had mine out when I was about your son’s age, and it was a much bigger deal back then. He’ll be in and out quickly and will only have to stay with us for six hours or so. When I had mine removed, I was in the hospital for seven days.”

  Her son was looking at me. His name was Nathan. He had the same curly brown hair as his mother. “Seven days?” he asked through grimaces of pain.

  I nodded. “Yep. It sucked. The surgery was easy and over just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “But I was stuck eating gross hospital food for a week while my incision healed.”

  “Incision?” he asked.

  I lifted the hem of my scrubs to show him the pale white scar on my righthand side. “Check this bad boy out. Yours will be so small, you’ll hardly be able to see it. Like a staple. Now you two sit tight. I know you’re hurting, but we’ll take care of you real soon, okay?”

  They nodded, and I walked away to call the doctor, who should have been down as soon as the boy was rolled into the ER. I told him and his team to hurry the hell up. The kid was in pain, and he should have been under and on the table five minutes ago.

  The rest of my night didn’t improve. It grew steadily busier and more frustrating, and by the time ten o’clock rolled around, I was wishing someone would come in and rescue me.

  And that was when Derek and Allen came in with a patient who had fainted while brushing her teeth. It was a teenage girl, and she was all skin and bones. It wasn’t hard to see what had transpired.

  Derek and Allen got her to the open bed, and I hurried over to them to get the patient report.

  Derek had it in his hand when I reached his side. “Hey,” I said softly.

  He turned to me. He looked tired. Really tired. And there was something else lurking in those hazel eyes of his. Something I couldn’t place. “Hey.”

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Long day is all.”

  I searched his eyes. He was lying. It was so easy to see that it was more than that. Behind those eyes of his, wheels were turning—no, spinning—and he was straining under the weight of his own thoughts.

  “Derek.”

  “Yes?”

  “You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

  For a moment, I thought he might tell me what was bothering him right then and there, but he hesitated and looked back at Allen. “Listen. I can’t talk about it right now, okay? It’s not personal. I just… can’t.”

  “That’s all right,” I said.

  “My shift ends at seven o’clock in the morning.”

  I nodded. “Mine ends at five. I’ll wait up for you. Come to my apartment?”

  He reached out and rested a hand lightly on my elbow. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  “I’ll have breakfast ready.”

  He gave me a weak smile. “Sounds good. Good luck in here tonight. What a mad house.”

  “I know. It’s a mess. But I can handle it. Be safe, okay?”

  He nodded.

  Wow. There was really something bothering him. Desperate to make him feel better, I caught his hand as he turned away and leaned in for a quick kiss. Our lips touched for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to leave us both smiling when we parted.

  He already looked like he felt better. “See you soon, Katie.”

  “Yeah.”

  And then he was gone. It was bad of me, but I hoped someone else needed an ambulance tonight and that Derek and Allen were the first ones on the scene so I could see him again before morning rolled around. Nine hours still felt like a long time to wait.

  * * *

  I managed to get in another hour of work before I decided to force myself to take a break. If I didn’t leave now while there was a moment of downtime, I wouldn’t get a chance to, and I needed to eat something. My stomach was growling, and I was starting to feel a little lightheaded. I needed to take care of myself if I was going to be of any help to my patients.

  I let one of the nurses know that I was stepping away for fifteen minutes, and she said she would cover for me. I made a beeline to the break room, which welcomed me with peace and quiet as soon as the door closed behind me.

  I had the whole place to myself.

  Wasting no time, I went straight to the fridge, tugged it open, and grabbed my lunch box. I sat down at the closest table and started unpacking everything. I went for what was going to give me the most energy fast: my sandwich. After wolfing down half of it, I moved on to my baby carrots and hummus.

  Then I checked my phone to see if I had any calls or messages from Emily.

  None.

  “Weird,” I said to myself. Usually, Emily would send me an update, letting me know why she hadn’t been able to come into work. Or she’d say something to poke fun at me for being at work on a Sunday night when she was at home, all cozy on her sofa watching reruns of her favorite sitcom.

  But there was nothing.

  I started to get an uneasy feeling in my gut, and I didn’t like it. I put my hummus-loaded baby carrot down and called her.

  She answered on the fifth ring. “Hey, Katie.”

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “What? Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t text you. I just wasn’t feeling well, and I fell asleep.”

  “That’s all right,” I said slowly. I wasn’t buying it. Not even for a minute. “Is it a cold or something? Or a flu maybe?”

  “Um, I’m not sure. I just have an upset stomach. Nausea. Can’t keep anything down.”

  “Want me to swing by on my way home this morning? I could leave some soup or something at your door.”

  “No,” she said hurriedly. “Thank you, though.”

  “Em, you’re acting weird. Are you sure everything is okay?”

  “Yes, I promise. I’m just feeling under the weather, and you woke me up from a long nap. I’m a bit groggy from the cold medicine.”

  “I thought you said it was your stomach?”

  “It’s both.”

  “Right.”

  I heard Emily moving around beneath her blankets. So, she wasn’t lying about being in bed. She cleared her throat. “How’s the shift going? Is it insane?”

  “Completely. And we were short a doctor for the first three hours. That was a good time.”

  “I’m sorry I kind of left you hanging.”

  “No, don’t worry about it. You just worry about feeling better soon, okay? I’ll let you get back to sleep, and I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you. Does that sound good?”

  “Sounds good. Thanks, Katie.”

  “Goodnight,” I said. She hung up without saying goodnight back, which was also weird. Usually, I had to hang up on her because she wouldn’t shut up.

  Maybe there was something in the water. Both Emily and Derek had seemed off. I’d get to the bottom of it, one person at a time, starting with him.

  At least he was willing to let me in. That was new. The guys I’d dated in the past had bottled all their emotions up until it exploded out of them in furious violent bursts. Like my dad. But Derek was different.

  I trusted him. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, no matter what was going on in his life, and I wanted to be there for him.

  Like a girlfriend might be there for her boyfriend.

  I raked my fingers through my hair. “So much for taking it slow,” I said to myself before biting off the top of the baby carrot. It crunched between my teeth as I started smiling.

  I liked the idea of being Derek’s girlfriend. I liked it a lot.

  21

  Derek

  Allen’s boots thudded down the driveway as we walked from the garage to our cars parked around the corner after our all-night shift. I was tired, and my limbs were heavy, but seeing Katie for breakfast was like a carrot dangling on a line in front of my face, keeping me going.

  The last few hours of our time in the box had been quiet. I was content to sit with my thoughts. Well, content
wasn’t the right word. I wasn’t content. I was frustrated, annoyed, and concerned that the stupid shit I had done as a teenager was creeping out of my closet to bite me in the ass. As well as the entire fire department.

  Rinehart could lose his job over this. If the town called for reform, some of the others might find themselves displaced as well, which was just sheer foolishness. I worked with the highest quality men who put their lives on the line every day to protect the people in this little coastal town. If they betrayed us—I didn’t even want to think about it.

  I shook my head. There was no sense in getting ahead of myself. All of this might blow over. Rinehart was a master at dealing with the public, and I believed him when he said he had my back. He wouldn’t throw me to the wolves just to protect his own hide, and he’d navigate the shark-infested waters with the same mastery with which he navigated his career as our chief.

  It would all be fine. It had to be.

  “Derek?” Allen called.

  I turned to him. I hadn’t realized he’d been calling my name. “Sorry. What?”

  “What’s going on with you today?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  I shrugged one shoulder and made to turn away from him. I was only a few feet from my bike parked at the curb.

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “Seriously, man. What’s the deal? Usually you’re a total chatterbox, and I can’t find a way to shut you up. But today, you were silent. Like a moody high school girl.”

  Had I not felt like there was a thousand pounds of pressure on my shoulders, the comparison might have made me laugh. Or at least chuckle. “There’s just some personal shit going on, okay? I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “What?”

  “Are you in trouble?” he asked.

  “What? No. Who would I be in trouble with?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

  “Were you going to offer up your military skills or something?” I asked.

  Allen sighed and looked at the sky in frustration. “No, Derek. I can do more than fire a sniper rifle, for fuck’s sakes. This is about those reporters, isn’t it?”