Three

by Chloe Lynn Ellis

  Someday, I’m sure we’ll end up with separate lives, find some girls, get married, whatever, but no point thinking about that now since we’ve got a pretty sweet setup at the moment. Working and playing side by side with my best friend every day, got the best job in the world, living in the best city in the world… and he even pays half my mortgage? Like I said, life couldn’t be sweeter.

  Johnny thought I was crazy when I bought the house a few years ago, but I like feeling settled, you know? Not like I’d ever wanna live anywhere but Boston anyway, so it just makes sense to put down some roots. Of course, I had roots here—was born and raised all my life in the same house down in Southie—but before I can get all worked up with that line of thinking, the truck starts to slow. I roll my shoulders back, staying loose, and get my head where it needs to be. No room for distractions when we’re working, and can’t say I mind shutting down where my mind had started to go and refocusing on the here and now.

  I look over at Johnny and can’t help but grin. He has this look on his face that’s just pure adrenaline. He lives for this shit and he’s damn good at it—even if he does occasionally take a few too many risks for my taste. And then we’re all hopping off the truck and I get in the zone, because it’s go-time.

  “Class K,” someone says as we start grabbing equipment.

  It was reported as a kitchen fire, but by the look of things, it’s been spreading fast. Doesn’t look too out of hand—not like that bitch of an apartment building that burned earlier in the week—but still, you always gotta respect the fire and not assume. Still, I’m sure we can get it under control. It’s what we do.

  I raise my voice to be heard over the siren and the roar of the flames, getting Johnny’s attention as I jerk my chin toward the townhouse. “I’m going to check residents.”

  “Yep,” he replies. “I’ll be with the Incident Commander.”

  I nod and turn to the building, but don’t get more than two steps before someone slams right into me. I grab her as she bounces off and then hold her tight when she scrambles frantically to get out of my arms. Looks like she’s in a state, and it’s a response I’ve seen before. I’ve got no idea if this is a resident or a bystander or someone with a loved one inside, but the girl’s clearly not thinking right, since she hit me while she was heading toward the fire.

  “Let me go,” she wails, her voice breathy and broken like she’s been crying.

  I feel for her, I do, but that’s not gonna happen.

  “Calm down, miss,” I say, regulating my voice to try and help her do that as I continue to restrain her. “We’ve got this under control.”

  She’s breathing hard, generous chest heaving under a thin t-shirt. Her pale skin is flushed, eyes wide as she struggles against me and long blonde hair all disheveled, like she’s just been—

  Jesus. I clench my jaw when it hits me how fucking unprofessional my thoughts just got and how fast they went there. It’s not like me, not when I’m on the job. And yeah, this girl pushes all my buttons, if I’m being honest, but I know damn well that this isn’t the time or place. She’s practically hyperventilating, pupils dilated and jumbled words tumbling out between gasping breaths. She’s in a state, all right, but despite my dick’s momentary confusion, I know it’s a state of panic, not anything else.

  “Breathe, miss,” I tell her, reining myself in. “I need you to stay away from the building so we can do our jobs,” I say, holding her chin steady so she has to look at me as I enunciate the words and try to get through her panic. “Do you know if there are people still inside?”

  “N-n-no,” she stutters, still struggling like she thinks I’m actually going to let her run back in that direction.

  “No, you don’t know?”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean, the people upstairs, they… they got out.”

  “Okay,” I say, something inside me relaxing a little. We still gotta check, of course, but I can already see that a couple of the other guys took that on as soon as they saw that I was occupied. “In that case, let’s get you over to the—”

  She’s a little thing, but she jerks away from me with some kind of inhuman strength before I can finish offering to get her out of the way and dashes back toward the building.

  “Fuck.”

  I sprint after her. Almost catch up to her, too, but turns out I don’t have to. Johnny steps in front of her before I get there, and she slams into him like he’s a brick wall. He grabs her arms, and even though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a repeat of the conversation I just had with her.

  He’s got it in hand, their two blond heads bent together and his tree-trunk arms holding her steady. There’s plenty for me to do, so I should just leave it, but for some reason I don’t. Not really sure why, but the degree of her panic is getting to me, and even though I trust Johnny to take care of her, I want to make it right.

  “I left it, I just left it there,” she’s sobbing to Johnny when I get close enough to hear. “It’s all I’ve done. It’s everything, and now it’s going to be gone.”

  An “it” isn’t a life, so whatever she left inside, I already know it’s not worth her putting herself in the kind of danger she was heading back for.

  But I also know that when someone’s in the throes of a panic like that, they can’t hear reason.

  “Right now, all you need to do is calm down,” Johnny says to her, his big frame dwarfing her. “Me and the boys are gonna get this fire under control, then after that happens—” he stresses the word after, because she’s still fighting him, “—we can worry about retrieving any belongings, yeah?”

  “But it will burn,” she wails, not unreasonably. And then in a heartbeat, she goes from sobbing and frantic to hopeless. I’ve seen that before, too, but for some reason, it stabs me in the heart when the fight suddenly goes out of her and she wilts against Johnny. “Please, please, please,” she whispers. “My whole life is in that book. Please don’t let it burn.”

  “A book?” I ask, meeting Johnny’s eyes over her head.

  I know we’re both thinking the same thing. A book isn’t worth all this fuss, not even if it were a copy of the Good one handwritten by Jesus himself. We’re also thinking that it’s a book, so it’s paper… so yeah, if it’s anywhere near the blaze, it’s gonna either burn or get waterlogged as we do our jobs.

  Lots of people lose things in fires. Tragic things. And then they figure out how to go on, anyway. I dart my eyes down to her and Johnny gives his head a little shake. As usual, we’re on the same page.

  Looks like this girl is going to be one of those people.

  “Listen,” he says to her, tipping her chin up and—damn, I know him so well that I can see it when it happens—he has a split second where he goes down that same unprofessional line of thinking I did when I had her in my arms.

  Guess we really are closer than brothers, and since we agree on a lot of things, no surprise, really, that she hits us both like that. Johnny shakes it off fast, though, just like I did.

  Not the time, not the place.

  “We’re going to do our best to contain this fast,” Johnny goes on. “Don’t lose hope, yeah? But we need you to stay safe out here, can you do that for me, miss…?”

  “Eden,” she fills in for him. “I’m… I’m Eden Evans.”

  Eden, huh? A gorgeous name.

  Then she starts crying. “I don’t… I don’t care if I’m safe. It doesn’t matter, it’s all I’ve got. Please don’t let it burn.”

  “It does matter,” I say, kind of pissed about that statement even though I know she’s still gotta not be thinking straight to have said such a thing. “Let Johnny get you out of the way so we can—”

  “How would you feel if you lost your whole life?” she interrupts me, clutching onto my arm like I’m some kind of lifeline. “One minute it’s there and the next it’s just gone?”

  She’s sandwiched between me and Johnny, and her words hit me like a gut
punch. Yeah, I’ve felt that before. One minute I’m part of a happy family, the next I find out it’s all been a lie. I wouldn’t compare it to losing a damn book, but then who am I to say what’s important to someone else?

  I eventually found my way again, but truth? Somewhere inside me, I still feel like something’s missing every damn day.

  “Your whole life is a book?” Johnny asks, his face crinkling up in confusion.

  I can’t wrap my head around it, either, but looking at her, at Eden, I’m convinced it’s true for her.

  Her eyes well up again, and she nods, looking back and forth between us beseechingly.

  “All the parts that matter. It’s… it’s on the kitchen counter. Ground floor. A scrapbook with a p-p-pink cover.”

  I frown. Pretty sure that was the reported ignition point.

  Johnny knows it, too, and he shakes his head at me again, then plucks her hand off my arm, still holding her tight like he doesn’t trust her not to make another dash for it.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” he says, starting to hustle her out of the way. “Don’t worry—Eden, right? We’re gonna—”

  “We’re going to get that book for you,” I interrupt without thinking it through, like my mouth doesn’t belong to me or something.

  Yeah, yeah, I know Johnny was about to reassure her that we had it all under control again, or say some other soothing and meaningless thing. Just trying to keep her calm so we could do our damn jobs. We all know personal effects just aren’t worth it, but she turns those big blue eyes on me like I’ve just sprouted a halo or something, and a whole lifetime of good sense deserts me in an instant.

  “What the fuck?” Johnny splutters, staring at me over Eden’s head like I’ve just grown a second one. “Matty, don’t be a fucking idiot. Contain and control, bro. No heroics.”

  I nod, because he’s right. Then I turn and sprint toward the building, because some things are more important than being right. No one should ever feel like they’ve lost everything. Still happens every day, but maybe it doesn’t have to be that way this time.

  Not for Eden.

  Not if I can do something about it.

  And I’m really not an idiot—if I can’t get in and out safely I’ll let it go, but I’m not going to be able to sleep at night if I don’t at least try to do something for this girl who hits me in the gut.

  Something to fix that look on her face when she lost hope.

  Johnny’s pissed all to hell behind me, I can hear it, but luckily I’m inside in just a few steps and it becomes a moot point. I know for sure that if I hadn’t moved fast and he hadn’t had an armful of Eden, he would have put me to the ground before he let me come in here, but I’ll take the heat for that later. Right now, my attention has narrowed to one objective, and I pause for a two-count to assess and orient.

  I snagged some equipment on my way in, including a silver extinguisher rated for these kinds of fires, and I think I might actually be okay as I work my way past a smoke-damaged front room, deeper into the building. I drop my shield over my face and start moving in, sweeping the extinguisher from side to side as I make my way through the fire in the hallway looking for the first-floor kitchen Eden mentioned. Flames leap out and lick at me, but they’re not fast enough for my extinguisher, and before I know it, I find it.

  The kitchen is definitely the ignition point, and it’s burning worse in here than I initially thought from outside. Still, it’s not so bad that I can’t justify a quick in-and-out in my gear, just long enough to see if there’s any hope for her book. I’m sweating hard as the flames suddenly flare off to my left, and I cough, then clear my throat and move fast, adrenaline surging through me when I spy what I came for.

  The book is right where she said, and I shit you not, it shouldn’t be. I don’t know what stray draft saved it, but it had to have been one sent by a higher power. Three steps to cross the room and I’ve got it, smacking it hard a few times to put out some of the smaller flames that have just started to get the edges.

  It’s singed, but doesn’t look too worse for the wear at a glance, and a glance is all I can spare. Like Johnny said, no heroics. Time to move. I slip the book into my protective coat and clutch it to me, then spin back toward the kitchen exit, and then I hear a sound I don’t like at all.

  Something’s starting to collapse, and a wall of heat slaps me in the face out of nowhere, flames bursting out of what had been solid wall a second before and something shooting across the room like an overheated javelin. It knocks me on my ass and clears my head. Shit. What the hell was I thinking, getting all sentimental on the job?

  Nothing for it now, though. I’m in here, and I’ve got the book so I’m not dropping it, but it’s time to get out. I get to my feet just as it all starts to go to hell, dodging furniture and fire as I run toward the front door. It got bad fast, but it’s gonna be okay. The door is right there, so close I can practically taste it.

  And then it happens. I hear another telltale crackle and the sound of heavy splintering, and years on the job have me jumping out of the way without having to consciously place where it’s coming from.

  Right over my head.

  I almost make it, too, but guess maybe coming in here like this really had been a dumb move, yeah? I go to the ground hard, forced down by the weight of something huge, heavy, and on fire, and my first reaction is pure disbelief.

  How many times had I warned Johnny about taking risks on the job, worried about him getting all stupid and heroic, fussed about us always staying up on our training, putting in more hours, dotting all our I’s and crossing all our T’s to be as prepared as humanly possible to do our jobs and come home after in one piece?

  And yet, here I am. And you know what? Every part of me hurts like a bitch.

  I suck in some overheated air and get it together, ready to push off whatever the fuck has me pinned and get the fuck out of here. But then I start coughing, and much to my horror, realize my vision is narrowing fast.

  Nuh-uh. I can’t pass out. I’m getting out of here.

  Except when I strain against the weight on top of me, pain shoots through me like a motherfucker, and I start coughing even harder as it all fades to black.

  Dammit. Johnny’s gonna be so pissed.

  4

  Johnny

  I’m still in shock as I burst through the hospital doors and rush the desk to find out where they’re keeping Matty. It was hell finishing up at the scene after the ambulance took him away, but training kicked in and we got the situation under control fast. Faster than usual, since we all pulled together to kick that fire’s ass for hurting one of our own. But now? Now I’m vibrating with adrenaline as I flash my fire badge to speed along the info I need on where the hell they’re keeping Matt in this place.

  I need to see him, and I need to see him now.

  And then I’m gonna kill him.

  After a goddamn eternity, the woman at the desk manages to do her job. She looks up from the screen and says, “Mr. Lopez is in the B Wing, it’s just dow—”

  “Down the hall to the right, I know,” I say, already sprinting away from the desk. I’ve been here a time or three and know the general layout, and it’s a good thing, because I have zero patience for waiting on anything that’s going to slow me down.

  Which makes Saturday night at the busy hospital my own personal hell.

  I dodge and weave between people and gurneys and too goddamn many chairs in the waiting room that seem to multiply for the sole purpose of getting in my way. The word is that Matt will be okay, and I trust Chief to have told me if it was different, but I still know I’m not going to be all the way okay until I see it for myself.

  And then, like I said, he’s a dead man for scaring me like this.

  What the fuck was he thinking?

  How many times has he gotten on me about doing the job by the book?

  Not taking unnecessary risks?

  Respecting the fire?

  Assessing the scene before
taking action?

  I’m working myself up, and I almost feel sorry for Matty, knowing I’m going to rip into him the minute I find him and chew him a new asshole for putting me through this. Six years we’ve been on the job, and neither one of us has ever had anything serious happen up until now. And okay, the way I’m vibrating with pent-up energy? I guess I’m not handling it all that well, but can you really blame me? I mean, I always figured I’d be the idiot who got taken out by fire, not Matty, and I’m one hundred percent sure that I’d rather be lying in a hospital bed writhing in pain than imagining him doing the same.

  My stomach tightens up and I push the image away. He’s gonna be fine, dammit.

  I finally reach B Wing and start scouring the rooms as I pass them one by one, following the numbers until it finally hits me that I don’t have any idea what room he’s in.

  Well, shit.

  I stop right where I am. “Matt!” I shout, because I truly don’t give a fuck. “Mateo Lopez!”

  It’s a madhouse in this wing, nurses and doctors bustling around left and right and all the seating areas crammed full. My loud voice barely gets a second look from anyone, which is frustrating as all hell. I reach out and start tugging on sleeves, things like manners and courtesy going out the window as a fresh wave of adrenaline courses through me. All I want is a minute of someone’s attention, anyone’s attention, but all I get is a whole lot of people being too damn busy to answer a simple fucking question, like which room Matty is in.

  I can’t believe this. Did God just decide to pick today to have everyone visit the hospital, the one day my best friend goes in? Is Boston really that bad on a Saturday night, that everyone and their brother needs immediate treatment? Why isn’t anyone at the desk for this wing? Why isn’t anyone stopping to help me? Did Matty fucking die and no one has the guts to tell me?

  That last one can’t be true, it can’t be, but it almost has me doubling over just to think it. My heartbeat rises fast, and I flash back to the panic that girl felt back at the scene tonight. I get it, I really do. I’ve got enough training that I know it’s not reasonable, but knowing doesn’t do a damn bit of good to stop what I’m feeling.