Burn

by Shey Stahl

  Where does that leave us now?

  We’re dirty. Where do you think it leaves us?

  In the equipment room at the fire station. He could get fired over this, but it still doesn’t stop us.

  For a while, I think I was in denial about what was happening between us, and then his brother died, then the fire, everything just sort of happened. Much like life. It never fails when you look back at your life, and you think, shit, when did that happen?

  What I do know is anytime you get a taste of something good, why stop? You never know when you’re going to find yourself in a moment you can make last forever. I guess you can say that’s me now. I want to be so far wrapped around Caleb you won’t be able to find where one of us stops and the other begins.

  “Where are you?’” he asks, heavy and rocking against me. Adjusting his weight to his right arm, he looks down at me spread out before him on the cot inside the equipment room. Why they have a cot in here isn’t a question I want to know the answer to. I’m sure of it. “I’m dying to be inside you.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” I tell him, smiling, my hand touches the side of his face, my eyes close and then open to see him staring at me, curious brows drawn together, waiting for my answer. My hips shift against his once more, and then I reach for my shirt. “You’re not going to die without being inside of me.”

  “It could happen. You never know.” Pushing my hand that’s on his neck to the cot, he breathes through his nose. His body tensing, shaking, the room around us glowing bright florescent lights that do nothing to hide my stretch marks from Emerson. I love my baby, but damn her for giving me those.

  “If you could die from not having sex, Jay would be dead,” I whisper, completely naked, skin to skin now, watching his face and feeling the tremble in his hips as he tries not to slide inside of me just yet.

  “Good point.” His lips are on mine next, overly excited, begging, loving, pleading, worshiping, everything this brave man gives to me.

  I wrap my hands around his neck, securing us together again. My legs catch and tangle with his, trapping us. I kiss his mouth like I mean it, as if I’m trying to convince him through a kiss my soul depends on him.

  When he finally enters me, with his ever-confident touch and the rumble in his chest, my toes curl and my fingertips tingle.

  Thrusting inside of me with frantic movements, his lips never leave mine. “You have to be quiet.” He nudges my legs apart more with his knees and continues rocking against me. My body shivers under his rough touch. I never want him to stop. As if he’s feeling the same way, his hands clamp down on my shoulders, driving into me with each forceful thrust.

  Time moves slower, yet fast as my body aches after our twenty minutes so far, and I’m wondering if he’s ever going to stop. I know he’d already had at least one orgasm, but he’s still sliding in and out with just as much passion as he had when we started.

  “Caleb . . .” I sigh gently, pushing against his shoulders with my palms, trying to catch my breath. “We’re going to get caught in here.”

  “Who cares,” he whispers, kissing my cheek. “Just one more . . . I don’t’ want to stop.”

  I close my eyes and open my mouth to him as he anchors his hands on each side of my face.

  When Caleb looks at me, he laughs, his body shaking and his voice gone just like mine is as he goes for one more. His laugh is comforting and enduring. “Remember when you asked me if I jerked off at work?”

  I nod, smiling.

  “I had to the other day because I couldn’t stop thinking about your tight pussy.”

  Okay, well now I never want him to stop.

  “Where’d you do it?”

  “The bathroom,” he breathes.

  I’ll be asking about more details later for sure. I need to know everything about this.

  Trapped underneath him, I can feel his arms and legs shaking, and the rise and fall of his stomach against mine. His chest and shoulders are flushed, and when I brush my hand over his forehead, there’s sweat there too. Goddamn, this is hot. Who knew sex in the equipment room at the firehouse would turn him on this much?

  Or maybe it’s because we haven’t had sex since Emmerson’s birth. Could be that. Whatever the reason, I’m loving this.

  Gliding his nose along my jaw, brushed lips part over mine. I hear him groan when my nails rake down his back, he gives me all his weight, the sounds of his pleasure resonating through him to me, giving me everything he has to give.

  I grip his neck, his sides, his body. He gives me it all unconditionally and with everything he has. I feel his pulse with every beat of his greedy heart and tattooed soul because this guy, he’s mine, forever.

  When he’s done, his body spread out before me as he attempts to catch his breath, I catch a glimpse of the ink spread over his bare chest. My hand moves from the cot, traveling lower over ink and the words: We’re everything we can’t control. Together we burn, her desire, his fire.

  With my touch, his breathing increases, his nose brushing my cheek when he sits up. “I love you,” he says, meaning it.

  I smile against his skin, content, relieved, owned by this man who thought he could never love someone. “I love you, too.”

  When I first met Caleb, I was in the habit of attaching myself to people because I feared being alone. Well, I attached myself to Caleb too, and at first, it backfired on me.

  I tell you what though, despite it being unhealthy, I sat on a guy’s lap for the thrill, dry humped his leg, made him fuck me against a counter in turnout gear, stalked him and then lost him to his own demons. And then he came back. Probably for the sex. But he came back and let me love him. Completely. Without hesitation.

  You know what else happened? I fell in love. I’ve been so far into the man that I crawled inside his heart and saw his soul for what it was.

  Caleb draws me to stand, handing me my clothes back. “Are we meeting at the memorial in the morning when I get off work?”

  I nod, buttoning my blouse. “Yep. Come straight there after your shift.”

  He smiles. “And then after we can get naked again?”

  “Is that all you think about now, Mr. Ryan?”

  “Pretty much, Mrs. Ryan.” He slaps my ass and then reaches for the handle of the door.

  Guess what? He put a fucking ring on my finger. He loves me and I had his baby.

  Outside the equipment room, Finn’s standing there, smiling, a flush to his innocent cheeks. “Sorry, I need batteries.” And then he holds up a radio.

  Caleb brushes past him, knocking his shoulder. “Kid, batteries aren’t in the equipment room.”

  With the way Finn’s smiling, I think he knew that. The fucker was listening. I guess that’s what we get for having sex here, but when you have a newborn baby and you’ve just been cleared for sex again, you do it when you can. At the firehouse if need be.

  Finn nods playfully to me. “You don’t happen to have a sister, do you?”

  I laugh. “Nope. Only child.”

  I take my time moving through the firehouse and find Owen holding Emerson in the apparatus bays. I know what you’re thinking, you left your kid with Owen while you went and fucked your husband?

  Not exactly. I left my baby with Jacey who was also visiting the firehouse with me, and she must have handed her over to him.

  “This kid loves me,” Owen remarks, holding her to his chest as she sleeps in his arms.

  “Don’t fool yourself.” To my left, I notice Caleb standing next to the trucks, smiling. “She likes everyone.”

  “Not true.” Caleb bumps my shoulder with his when he comes to stand next to me. “I’m her favorite.”

  I laugh, winking at him. “That’s probably true.” And then I whisper, “You’re my favorite too.”

  Cap approaches us but his stare’s directed at Caleb. “What were you doing in there?”

  Caleb shrugs casually. “Showing Mila where we keep the equipment.”

  “Uh huh, you mean your
equipment?”

  Laughter erupts throughout the apparatus bay only to be silenced by a group of kids eagerly standing outside as one in particular makes his way to Caleb.

  The moment Caleb spots the boy at his feet, he drops to his knees beside him.

  Be still my heart. This my friends is what Salt-N-Pepa was talking about when they wrote the song, “Whatta Man.” I’m sure of it. They wrote it about Caleb Ryan.

  Bending down, he hauls the boy off his feet and into a massive hug. “Hey, little buddy. How have you been?”

  It’s not the first time Jensen has come by the station. He’s the little boy Evan saved in that apartment fire. The two-year-old he handed to Caleb right before the explosion.

  Since Evan’s funeral, the boy’s mother has been bringing him by the station every month to see the boys of Ladder 10. Today he brought his pre-school class with him.

  Every time I see Jensen and Caleb together, I think about the fireman’s prayer they read at Evan’s funeral. “When I am called to duty, God, wherever flames may rage, give me strength to save a life, whatever be its age. Help me embrace a little child before it is too late.”

  Evan saved Jensen, just like Heath saved Caleb. For that reason, Jensen and Caleb have an unspeakable bond with one another. I don’t ask about it, it’s between them and it’s exactly how it should be, just like his relationship with Jacey. I’ll never be jealous of their bond. It’s theirs and always will be.

  “Can you show my friends what you wear in a fire?” Jensen asks Caleb when Owen hands Emerson over to me.

  I take my sleeping baby in my arms, kissing her precious soft skin as I watch my husband interact with the kids.

  Jacey comes to stand beside me, Caleb moving past us toward his gear. “I cry every time this kid comes in here.”

  Tears sting my eyes and I have to blink back the emotion surfacing. “I know what you mean.”

  Caleb talking to the kids draws my attention when he’s got his gear on in forty-five seconds from the time he started putting it on. “We only have one minute to get our gear on.” He reaches for his SCBA pack. “Do you guys have backpacks at school?”

  They all nod eagerly, Jensen especially beaming with pride. “I do!”

  “Well these are like carrying backpacks but instead of pencils and books, we carry air so we can breathe through all the smoke.” He pats the tank on his back and reaches for his mask. “Who here weighs forty pounds?”

  “I do.” A little boy says, next to Jensen.

  Caleb smiles. “Well it’d be like me carrying you on my back then.”

  The kids gasp, looking to Caleb like he’s a hero. Especially when he puts the mask on followed by his helmet. I know how the kids feel. First time I saw him in all his turnout gear I nearly fainted.

  “I gotta turn on my air and it’s going to make some really weird noises.” He turns it on and when he breaths, a familiar hiss sends a shiver through me. “What you’re hearing is me breathing the air in my tank.”

  Caleb winks at me, no doubt the same memories shared between us. Goddamn this firefighter. It’s a good thing I’m holding my baby or I’d have him show me the equipment room again.

  Dropping to his knees, he gets on all fours and crawls toward the pre-school class. “When I go into a burning building, I search for people on my hands and knees because the fire is too hot above me.” Stopping in front of Jensen, he grins at him, his voice muffled by the mask when he says, “And when I find them, I pick them up and carry them to safety.

  With a squeal of delight from the children, Caleb hauls Jensen over his shoulder and then runs around the fire truck with him. “I found one.”

  Laughter and giggles break out over the apparatus bay, including my own. When I first met Caleb, I never thought this man was underneath that intimidating glare he delivered from the corner booth.

  I’m glad I took a chance and sat on his lap though.

  NEXT TO HEADQUARTERS in the Pioneer District of downtown Seattle is the memorial that honors every life given in this city by a firefighter since 1889.

  Four bronze statues take up residence there, honoring four lives lost in a warehouse fire in 1995. It was designed by Hai Ying Wu, and has these words inscribed in the granite slab: This memorial sculpture is dedicated to the Seattle Firefighters who have sacrificed their lives in the line of duty. We honor them for their heroism. Citizens of Seattle. June 6, 1998.

  And while it was created for those four firefighters in Chinatown International District, it represents the thirty-one lives lost in this city since 1889 when the department began. Evan included.

  To some, it’s just a memorial, but to those who’ve lost a loved one to fighting fire, it’s deeper than that. It lets you know you’re not alone and that others have experienced the same pain you’re going through.

  “A firefighter is never hated,” Jacey says, staring at Evan’s engraved name in the memorial. “They’re not like policemen or even people in the military. Everyone is glad to see them, as it means help. Our lives depend on them. They’re like our knights in shining armor.” Her fingers run over the Maltese cross on the shoulder of one of the bronze statues. “He was my knight.”

  Owen hears what she said and snorts. “Not true. Last week some old lady slapped me across the face for losing her dentures when I was carrying her out of a burning building.”

  Caleb chuckles beside him. “How’d she lose her dentures? I saw that women. She didn’t have her teeth in when you got to her.”

  Contemplatively, Owen scratches the side of his head. “No fuckin’ clue. But it was apparently my fault.”

  We all laugh but there’s a sense of void in the air. Someone’s missing. Though Evan’s been gone almost two years now, losing him won’t get easier on Jacey or for anyone with a loved one’s name engraved in this granite stone.

  As I look at the names, tears start to flow.

  Jacey sighs. “I miss his eyes. So bright. So in love with me though he rarely said it.” And then she looks at Easton, barely walking, stumbling around as he clings to the bronze status with Owen holding one of his hands. “And every time I’m reminded there’s a little piece of him right here.” She gestures toward Easton. “He’s so much like him it’s ridiculous.”

  Beside Owen, I see my husband, his eyes lost in thought.

  You’re never going to tell a firefighter his job is dangerous and have him disagree with you. He knows it. He’s a brave man who risks his own life to save those of strangers.

  My heart squeezes in my chest when I see our daughter snuggled against her daddy’s chest, fast asleep in strong, sure arms. Arms that have carried hundreds from burning buildings and brought others back to life. Arms that, when wrapped around you, can give you a sense of security only captured with him.

  Walking over to Caleb, Jacey leans forward and kisses Emerson, my three-month-old baby girl. A tiny girl, with petite features, olive skin, and thick dark eyelashes. She has my facial features but has those Caleb Ryan eyes that get me every time with their evergreen beauty.

  I never thought I’d have a baby with Caleb. I never thought he’d eventually be my husband. But now here I am, with their love filling my heart.

  Life is never how we plan for it. Just when we think we’ve got it figured out, it sparks a fire, and it’s up to us to find strength to make our way through the smoke.

  Owen grabs our attention, taking pictures of Easton and acting like that kid is his favorite person in the world. And he is. In many ways.

  “So . . . Owen?” I ask, ribbing Jacey a little and raising my eyebrows.

  She smiles, a little bit annoyed, a little bit embarrassed, and then rolls her eyes. “He’s cool and so supportive. He loves Easton like he’s his own kid, but I don’t know. My heart will always be with Evan.” Her misty eyes meet mine displaying a pain I know is still very real for her. “I don’t know if I can like him like that. He’s nice—a fucking child half the time—but I don’t know if I feel that way for him. I may
look strong, but . . .” She breathes out a shaky breath and her pain shows itself in the way her chin quivers. “I will never get over Evan dying. Ever. He was, and will always be, the only man who has ever held my heart. And it’s with him now.” The diamond ring she wears around her neck catches the sunlight as she reaches with shaky fingers and then places a kiss upon the ring. “I can’t give my heart to another. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

  As sad as her words are, they’re true.

  “I can understand that, Jacey.” I wrap my arms around her. “But Evan would have wanted you to be happy and, if that means loving someone else, he would want that for you.”

  Hugging Jacey, my watery eyes shift to Caleb over her shoulder and I watch him holding our baby girl to his chest. A memory of him holding me against his chest flashes, the one where he saved me, breathed for me when I was having trouble.

  He winks at me, his lips softly brushing Emerson’s forehead and I melt.

  Breathing in deep, the breath is one of relief that we made it through this. I have no idea what tomorrow will be like, nor does it make anything we went through better, but it does give me a sense of fulfillment that we rose through the ash and destruction.

  Jacey moves toward Owen and Easton playing in the grass leaving me to stand alone next to the statues. Caleb makes his way over to me, still holding Emerson, tired eyes finding mine. Poor guy still hasn’t slept.

  When we’re standing in front of one another, he’s silent, unmoving, maybe waiting for me to say something. And then he clears his throat, and my stomach doing a flip-flop when he barely raises those long lashes. He’s always going to have an effect on me.

  “What?”

  Shifting Emerson to his shoulder, he scratches his cheek, his head tilting to the side as he raises his eyebrows. “Think she’ll sleep for another hour?”

  “Why?”

  Sighing, he shakes his head in amusement and then pulls me against him but covers Emerson’s tiny ears with his fingers so she won’t hear what he’s about to say. Probably a good thing. His words are whispered when he says, “Because I want to fuck my wife when we get home and don’t want this little monster awake for it.”