by Austin Bates
Tommy hummed skeptically. "I'll take your word for it," he said. "I'm sorry to bother you at work, but I couldn't remember if you wanted to be at the ultrasound appointment or not."
Swallowing hard, Damien pressed his hand against the wall. He wanted Tommy's soft skin under his hand, not the slick tiles, but it would have to do. "When is it?"
"Tomorrow, but I can reschedule if you can't get down here in time." Paper crinkled in the background, and the sound went muffled for a moment. "My doctor has another time slot open in two weeks."
"No," Damien said, the thought of waiting two more weeks to make sure the baby was okay. Not that Tommy had given any indication that he was worried, but Damien could remember exactly how many times Tommy's mother had tried to give him a younger sibling. "I'll go next time."
The line crackled with white noise for long enough that Damien double checked that the call hadn't dropped. "Okay," Tommy said. "Did you want to find out if it's a boy or a girl?"
"I don't care," Damien said, smiling to himself. As long as it was healthy, he wasn't going to be picky.
Tommy swallowed, his throat clicking. "Okay," he said again. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
The door to the locker room swung open, and the guys walked in, looking him up and down. "Lucas said we can go home early if we all keep our phones on. The rain is supposed to dry up this weekend, and Brant doesn't want to have to pay overtime if we get busy," Kieran said, smirking. "Are you still talking? Tell Tommy I said hi." He didn't wait for Damien to do it, leaning over and shouting into the receiver. "Hi, Tommy."
Planting his hand in the middle of Kieran's unruly red beard, Damien shoved him away, retreating deeper into the locker room. "Sorry," he said, covering one ear as the guys banged around in their lockers.
"It's fine. I should let you go. If you hurry, you might even be able to have dinner at a sane hour." Tommy still sounded breathless.
"Is everything okay?" Damien said, turning his back to the lockers when Rafe wagged his eyebrows. "You sound like you're working too hard.”
"I have a baby sitting on my bladder that's slowly strangling me," Tommy said wryly. "Otherwise, I'm great. Anne won't even let me pick up customer files anymore, so the most exercise I get is walking to the bathroom."
Damien chuckled. "Okay. I'll head over as soon as I get off work, which might be early if this rain keeps up."
"I won't hold my breath. I love you."
Warmth spread through Damien's chest. "That's probably wise," he said, smiling at the dented metal of one of the lockers. "Let me know if the car gives you any trouble tomorrow."
"I will."
Damien lingered for a long moment, just listening to Tommy breathe in his ear. When Mica stuck his head around the end of the row of lockers, though, he forced himself to hang up.
"How's Tommy?" the omega asked, his eyes narrowed.
Failing to force the smile off his face, Damien shrugged. "He's good. He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow."
"Have you forgiven him yet?"
That wiped the smile right off. Trying not to tense up, Damien headed for his own locker, ignoring the other man.
"I'm serious, Damien," Mica said, following after him.
Damien turned around fast enough that Mica almost ran into him. "That's not any of your business," he said, crossing his arms.
"So you haven't." Mica crossed his arms and glared right back. "That's not fair to Tommy. You can't hold this against him every time you two get on each other's nerves. Not with a baby stuck in the middle. You have to forgive him."
"I have," Damien snapped, unsure until that moment if it was actually true. "I forgave him a long time ago."
Mica paused, and Damien thought he might be off the hook. He should have known better. "Have you told him you forgive him?"
Damien rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He knows."
"Have you actually said the words? Out loud? In one full sentence?"
"No," Damien growled, his jaw clenched. "I don't need to. Tommy knows me better than that."
Pursing his lips, Mica shook his head. "Does he? Maybe he knew you ten years ago, but you've spent all that time apart. You have to be able to talk to each other."
"Mica, I am not having this conversation with you." Pulling open his locker, Damien grabbed his jacket and the bag of laundry that he'd been meaning to take home for two weeks. It was harder to shake the doubts that were swirling up out of his gut. They were good. Tommy understood, and everything was fine.
"I'd be okay with that if I thought you'd have it with Tommy. He needs to know that you're with him, that you forgive him, and most important, that you love him." Mica followed after him, gesturing wildly in a way that didn't mean anything good.
The Jakobsons watched him stalk across the garage with Mica in tow. Elijah closed his book when he noticed Mica's broad hand movements, nudging his brother. They cleared out of the room like their asses were on fire.
"You can't expect him to read your mind," Mica said, following him out into the pouring rain. "Especially not when he's pregnant."
"Fine," Damien snapped, yanking the door of his truck open. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Happy?" He climbed in, slamming the door behind him before Mica could add anything. He stared at the steering wheel for a moment, waiting for Mica to step back. “I said, I’ll talk to him,” he said, rolling down the window.
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know.” Mica didn’t look impressed, and Damien clenched his hand on the key until it rattled with tension. “I don’t know, okay? We lost ten years because I was an idiot, and I don’t even know if I can make myself say the words out loud again because every time I try all I hear is him telling Coach that…” Damien shook his head. “I’ll figure it out.”
“All you have to do is tell him that,” Mica said quietly, stepping back so that he could pull out of his parking spot. He watched Damien drive away with his hands on his hips. It was like he knew Damien was planning on ignoring his advice, again. He'd bring it up next week, Damien knew, unless something more important happened.
Maybe he could talk Tommy into scheduling a baby shower. That would get the omega off his back.
Driving the few blocks to his apartment took twice as long as usual because of all the water flooding the roads. He was grateful for the height of his truck, but it made him worry about Tommy driving that piece of garbage to his appointment.
When his phone buzzed with an incoming call from work just as he was pulling into his apartment complex, he groaned. "Don't tell me," he said, "they're calling us back in."
"No," Olivia said, her voice tense. "It's nothing like that."
"What's up, then? Did I forget to file some paperwork?"
Olivia ignored him, her accent heavy as she continued, "There was just a fire entered into the state dispatch database."
"That database covers a lot of territory," he said, grabbing his bag so that he could make a run for the apartment building's covered entry. "If it's not in our territory, why is it a big deal?"
"It's in La Junta," she said, and Damien froze. "Tommy's shop."
Shaking his head, Damien swallowed a hysterical laugh. "That's impossible. I was just talking to him."
"The report in the system says the caller suspected arson because the flames spread so fast." Her voice shook.
Damien's phone slid out of his sweaty hand and clattered to the floor. He stared at the rain pouring down on his windshield. He was hours from La Junta. He wouldn't be able to make any kind of difference. Nightmare images crawled across his vision, superimposed over the blurry view of his apartments, Tommy dying of smoke inhalation, burning to nothing but ash, suffering for days or weeks from horrific burns.
"Damien? Damien! Shit." Olivia's voice was muffled by the crackle of flames and the pounding of his pulse in his ears.
The radio on his dash whined to life, cutting through his panic. "Damien King, you answer me right now."
Fumbling to get his
phone off the floor, Damien frantically dialed Tommy's number. "I'm here," he said to the radio, praying for Tommy to pick up. It went to voicemail, and he cursed. "Tommy's not answering. Tell the guys, I'm going to La Junta."
"I've been trying to get through to the team that was dispatched, but La Junta still hasn't upgraded their comm system. I'll let you know as soon as I find out anything." The click of the keyboard was a continuous hum in the background.
"You're the best, Olivia," he said as the truck roared to life.
"I know. Drive safe, okay? Tommy needs you to get there safe," she said, blowing her nose as the call cut off.
Damien tossed his phone into the passenger seat, heading for the highway as quickly as he could. The one benefit to all the rain was that the roads were empty, even though it was barely 7 p.m. On the highway, there was more traffic, but fewer problems with flooding, and he made good time.
All the way there, the thought of what he was heading for plagued him. He'd seen every type of damage a fire could do to a human being, and the thought of even a tiny blister on the stretched tight skin of Tommy's stomach made him sick. He tried to distract himself by ignoring it all, pretending this was just a normal trip to spend the weekend with Tommy.
He blocked out the thought of burns eating away the tree house on Tommy's back by complaining to himself about how long the trip was. He thought, not for the first time, about moving somewhere closer. He contemplated the towns he drove through, calculating how much of a commute he was willing to have. With Tommy owning his house, it was doubtful that he'd be willing to move further out. Was it even worth asking?
For one crazy moment, he imagined living with Tommy. Waking up in the morning in the same bed, his overstuffed chair next to Tommy's horrible couch. It was a surprisingly comforting thought, but even if Tommy was interested, there was no way it would work with their jobs so far apart.
The semi in front of him belched exhaust, and the smell of burning fuel made his stomach roll over.
"Damien?"
He lunged for the radio, swerving a little and cursing. "I'm here."
Olivia sounded muffled as she said, "There's another entry in the database. Same address, but it just went in." She only chewed on her hair when she was confused, and he didn't blame her.
"Have you been able to get ahold of anyone?" he asked, focusing on passing the noxious semi.
"Just their dispatch, and they aren't even in the same building," she said, her voice radiating disgust. "Tommy's still not answering."
"Keep trying."
Two separate alarms for the same address in less than two hours was odd, but it gave him hope that the whole situation was just an oddly specific system glitch. There were too many possibilities to be sure, but he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.
He passed a sign pointing the way to a new luxury development, and he frowned. Even if he got an apartment that was closer, he wouldn't have a lot of space for a kid to play around in. That would be alright for a baby, but an older child needed a yard or a park to play in.
In California, he'd owned a house for a few years, spending his rare free time fixing it up. He'd enjoyed the act of building his home with his own hands, but he hadn't been attached to the property, selling it for a tidy profit when he'd moved back to Golden. He could do that again. He thought about it, buying a house and fixing it up just right with space for Tommy and the baby. Not that Tommy would have many chances to stay there when he was putting so much work into his shop.
"Listen, you pompous ass. I will call the governor's office if I have to, now let me talk to your captain." The radio flared to life, and Damien jumped. "Yes, I'll hold. I really hate these guys, Damien," Olivia said, sounding exhausted.
"They'll learn to bow to your brilliance, just like the rest of us," Damien said, his hands clenching on the steering wheel. "Or I'm sure they'll get a call from your Uncle Marco."
Olivia laughed, the sound strained even over the radio. "It's Uncle Tito, and how many times do I have to tell you that he doesn't do that anymore? He's a businessman now."
"Maybe he'll come out of retirement for a good cause," Damien said. "What do you know about the housing market between Golden and La Junta?"
She paused. "It's expensive if you want a good school district, and your commute will be hell, unless..." She cleared her throat, whispering the last bit. "Unless you transfer to another station."
"Is Mica still there?" he asked, his pulse kicking up as he passed a sign saying that La Junta was only 37 miles out.
"Yeah," Olivia said. "He's helping me make calls. You can't just leave us." Her voice cracked, and she reined it in. "I mean, you can, but we'd miss you. Even the Jakobsons."
Damien laughed, the sound rattling the windows in the confined space. "I know," he said, "but I've got to do something. This drive... I can't be so far away from him."
The radio popped and hissed in counterpoint to the swish of his windshield wipers. "This sucks," she blurted. "I hate it when family moves away."
"Does that make the twins our weird cousins?"
"Don't change the subject," she snapped. "What? No, I'm not talking to you. No, I will not let you call me back. I want to talk to someone now." The radio clicked off and left Damien alone with his thoughts.
It would be easier for him to move and change jobs than for Tommy. He couldn't ask him to give up the business that he built, not to mention leave Anne and Carlos. Pushing aside the thought of missing Saturday night drinks and the Halloween decorating contest, Damien focused on the road.
The sign announcing his exit passed overhead, and he squinted at the sky. Between the last bit of pink in the western sky and the lights of the city, he should have been able to see smudges of white smoke against the sky. It relaxed something inside him to find only the first stars of evening twinkling back at him.
The flash of lights on the glass of the pawn shop made his heart stop, a fire engine and two trucks parked at the curb in front of Vivid Ink. The crew was just standing around, leaning lazily against the side of the engine, and the ball of worry in his gut dissolved. His hands shook as he guided the truck to a halt on the road in front of the empty building next to Tommy's.
Breathing deeply, the adrenaline crash tearing at his self-control, Damien kept his eyes on the undamaged front window with its glowing gold logo. His lungs strained like there wasn't enough air in the car, so he shoved the door open, gasping in the fresh evening air. There wasn't even a hint of smoke.
While he counted his breaths, trying to keep the candy he'd eaten earlier from coming back up, Tommy came out of the building. He was gesturing wildly with one hand to a tall firefighter, the other pressed against the small of his back, his stomach straining against a too-tight t-shirt. He looked annoyed and exhausted. Damien had never seen anything so beautiful.
He wasn't even aware of climbing out of the car until he tripped over the curb. Tommy's eyes widened as Damien stumbled to his knees at his feet, squeaking as Damien pulled him into his arms. "You're okay," he breathed.
"What are you doing here?" Tommy said, his arms coming around to rest tentatively on Damien's shoulders.
Damien shook his head, his throat tight as he ran his hands over Tommy's smooth, unburned skin. "Your phone is off," he managed, his eyes burning. "Jesus, when I heard about that dispatch, I thought you were dead." He pressed his forehead to Tommy's belly and swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat.
"How did you even know about that? I forgot to charge my phone last night, so the battery died." Tommy put his hand on his hip, dislodging Damien as he glared.
"State database," the firefighter said, staring off to one side to give them the illusion of privacy. "All the emergency services in the state can see the dispatches."
Damien glanced around, realizing that there were other people watching. He'd always been amused at how dramatically people reacted when he was on an alarm, and he could see a couple of raised eyebrows among the engine crew. Pulling hi
mself together, he got to his feet, but he couldn't stand to take his hands off of Tommy just yet. He pulled the omega back against him, breathing in the warmth rising off his skin.
Tommy let him position them, his hands resting gently on top of Damien's on his shoulders. "Great. Just great," he said, rolling his eyes. "The whole town of Golden is going to know about this by sun up. Anne is never going to let me live it down."
"What happened?" Damien asked, clearing his throat.
Growling under his breath, Tommy crossed his arms on top of his belly. "Some asshole keeps prank calling the fire department." Damien resisted the urge to grab his hands back, rubbing his hands down Tommy's arms instead.
"We've gotten six calls in the last few hours," the firefighter said, his voice professional despite the irritation in the twist of his mouth. "Different local pay phones, different genders, reporting a fire at this address. The PD is working on it, but you know how it goes." He stuck his hand out. "Brent Farmer. You worked the brush fire, right?"
Damien nodded, giving him a quick handshake. His chest squeezed tight until he had both hands back on Tommy. "I apologize in advance for anything that our dispatch says to you. We've been trying to get information on the alarm."
The firefighter grimaced. "Our captain is due to retire next year. He's not big on change, or information sharing." A couple of the crew members snorted where they were leaning against the engine, and Farmer shot them a quelling look. "I've got enough for my report, so we're going to head out. Dispatch has flagged the address, so we'll be having the local officers verify any more calls." Nodding to Tommy, he smiled ruefully. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope we don't see you later."
Tommy chuckled, and Damien reveled in the way the vibrations shivered across his skin. "None taken," Tommy said, waving at the crew. "The next time I see you guys, it better be for a tattoo."
The crew laughed, waving as they climbed into their engine, and Damien tried to convince himself to move. Tommy twisted around to look up at him, his eyes soft as he laced his fingers through Damien's.