Heat Exchange

by Shannon Stacey

  She shrugged. “I assume he has more than one friend. I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a special lady friend.”

  “No.” He took the beer she handed him, scowling. “He can’t have a special lady friend if I don’t. That makes me feel really inadequate.”

  They laughed together, because it was hard to believe their old man could find a woman who’d put up with his crap at this stage of his life, and because there wasn’t much that would make Scott feel inadequate.

  “You eat already?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I made a couple of sandwiches at home, but then I got bored so I thought I’d come have a beer with the old man and see who all was here.” He looked around the bar, which wasn’t too full of familiar faces tonight. “I probably should have looked for some infomercials and nodded off to promises of all things new and improved.”

  Lydia opened her mouth to tell him that was almost as bad as Aidan’s confession he used animal documentaries to the same effect, but then realized she’d have to explain how she knew that and closed it again. And then she felt stupid because if Scott asked how she knew that, she would just say that Aidan told her. She’d known him as long as Scotty had and, though they’d never spent a lot of quality alone time together, Aidan had spent many hours leaned against the bar over the years.

  She couldn’t imagine how Aidan was dealing with this. He probably had the same incidents of almost casually mentioning something about Lydia and having the same conversation with himself that she’d just had. Only it would happen to him more often because he spent a hell of a lot more time with Scotty than she did. No wonder the poor guy was having stress dreams.

  She was delivering cheese fries to the table by the door when the old scanner by Fitz squeaked out some noise. It was usually quieter than that, which meant he’d turned it up. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him leaned as close as he could get to it.

  “Somebody’s hurt,” Fitz said in a voice that carried over the small talk going on around the bar.

  The hush was immediate and all heads swiveled in his direction. He had his ear to the scanner, which was ancient and barely worked anymore. Everybody tended to use text messaging and social media for updates nowadays, so they’d never gotten around to replacing it with a newer model. It was practically antique, too, and her dad liked the novelty of it.

  Fitz said the engine company’s number, but it wasn’t familiar to Lydia. Saying a quick and silent prayer for whoever was involved, she made her way down the bar, checking on her customers.

  Scotty leaned closer to Fitz, though. “Have they said who? Or what happened?”

  “This piece of junk,” Fitz grumbled, slapping the side of it. “I get more static than anything.”

  Scott pulled out his phone and there was a sense of urgency about his movements that alarmed Lydia. They all worried about each other because that was how the community worked, but it looked like more than standard worry on his face, so she walked over to him.

  “Do you know those guys?” she asked.

  “I know them all,” he said, scrolling through something on the phone. Then he paused. “Hit by a car? Jesus.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know yet. They’re not going to release his name and the last thing they need on-scene is a shitload of texts asking who it is.”

  “Hopefully you’ll know something soon.” That was how it went. Waiting for news. Waiting to find out who was involved. She’d always hated that part.

  “Jesus, I just hope it’s not Hunt.”

  The room seemed to spin for a second and Lydia placed her palms on the surface of the bar to steady herself. No. She’d left Aidan that morning and he’d said nothing about working. He would have told her. But she couldn’t tell her brother any of that. “Aidan’s out with those guys?”

  Scotty nodded without looking up, intent on his phone’s screen. “One of their guys is out because his wife just had a baby, and then another guy called in sick, so Aidan picked up a night tour with that company.”

  Lydia felt the chill slowly taking over her body and her lips parted as she tried to breathe normally.

  Aidan might be hurt.

  She didn’t know if it was him. She didn’t know how badly, if it was him. Frustration rose like a scream in the back of her throat and she forced it down. She’d been here before. Waiting for news on her dad. On her brother. More than once for her husband.

  When she’d packed up and moved to New Hampshire, it was supposed to mean she’d never do this again. She wasn’t supposed to be standing behind the damn bar, waiting to find out if somebody she cared about was going to make it home.

  “Anything?” she asked, and even though it was only one word, she must have sounded funny because he looked up at her. His brows were knit together in concentration and her stomach sank even further when he shook his head.

  “Screw this.” He stood and grabbed his hoodie. “I’m going to go outside and call the house. Maybe they know something.”

  “Let me know, okay?” she said, wanting more than anything to go outside with him. “If it’s Aidan or not.”

  “I will.”

  She felt helpless. That was the worst thing. Knowing there was nothing she could do but wait was hell on her nerves. She wanted to do something. Drive to the scene. Drive from hospital to hospital until she had the answer she was looking for. But that wasn’t how it was done.

  All she could do was wait. And pray.

  * * *

  AIDAN SAW IT coming and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. The engine company was helping the police officer trying to clear traffic so the ladder crew could get the outriggers down and the aerial ladder up, but it was dark. It was the third alarm, so apparatus clogged the street. And though it wasn’t raining hard, it was enough to refract the bright lights of the engines through windshields.

  One asshole in a luxury SUV was in a hurry and Aidan saw a guy named Jones stepping out from behind the ladder truck’s outrigger. He shouted a warning and waved his light at the firefighter, but the guy in the SUV saw nothing but an opening and gunned the engine.

  Aidan was running, yelling into his radio before Jones rolled off the hood of the SUV and hit the pavement. Within seconds, he was on his knees beside the firefighter and he said a quick prayer of gratitude when Jones looked up at him, his eyes focused on his face.

  “Ow.”

  Aidan smiled and placed his hand gently on the man’s forehead. Jones had had his helmet on, but Aidan had no idea where it was now. “Don’t move. They’re bringing the board.”

  “I remember reading that Chapter in the book,” Jones said, the humor not quite masking the pain in his voice.

  “He ran right out in front of me,” SUV guy was yelling, and Aidan realized the man had gotten out of his vehicle.

  He did his best to ignore the asshole until the EMS guys took over on Jones and then Aidan pushed himself to his feet. A police officer Aidan vaguely recognized was talking to the driver, who was gesturing with his hands.

  “It wasn’t my fault! He ran out in front of me.”

  The officer saw Aidan coming and there must have been something on his face that alarmed the guy because he held up a hand. “I’ll take your statement later.”

  “What the hell kinda moron are you?” Aidan yelled at the driver, whose mouth dropped open. “Huh? What were you thinking?”

  “Hey,” the police officer shouted to somebody behind Aidan. “Come get your guy.”

  “Hunt,” he heard, recognizing the voice as that of the incident commander. “Let’s go. Striking fourth alarm, so we’ve got more companies incoming and we need to get this shit under control.”

  He itched to get his hands on the asshole whose time was more important than their safety, but that wouldn’t help Jones and it sure as hell wouldn�
�t put the fire out. He started to walk away, but turned back to speak to the officer. “You make damn sure you get a statement from me when this is over.”

  As the ambulance carrying Jones pulled away, Aidan double-checked his gear and went to do his job.

  His phone vibrated a few times, but it was almost two hours before he had the opportunity to dig under his gear and pull it out of its holster. There were a few from Scotty, asking him if he was dead.

  Not dead, which you probably know by now. Jones has concussion & waiting on hip X-ray, he texted back.

  And there was one from Lydia sent not too long ago.

  I swore to myself I’d never do this again.

  It might have been short, but it said a lot. He tried not to picture her waiting for news. He hadn’t even told her he’d picked up a tour for another guy, and he wondered how she’d found out he was there. He didn’t know that, but he did know she’d probably spent the past couple of hours kicking herself in the ass for getting involved with another firefighter.

  I’m sorry, he typed. It was crazy, but I’m okay.

  She immediately texted back.

  I want to see you later.

  Tour doesn’t end until 0600.

  I’ll be asleep on your couch when you get home. Wake me up.

  He smiled, but he wasn’t sure how that was going to work.

  Door’s locked.

  I stole the key from Dad’s office. See you in the morning.

  He’d forgotten about that key. When he moved into the apartment, he’d given Tommy a key to keep in the office in case anything happened to him. And if he ended up in the hospital at a weird hour and wanted something from home, he didn’t want Tommy having to drag his landlord out of bed in the middle of the night.

  After securing his phone, he took a deep breath and looked around. The scene was a mess. The fire had gotten in the pipe chase and, from there, it had free run of the three-decker building. They were still finding hot spots and checking the integrity so the investigators could get in there and determine the cause and origin.

  There were three families in the street, getting some help from the Victims Assist Team, and there were hoses and tools all over the damn place. It was going to be one long damn night. But as he hefted an axe and went back inside with his temporary company, he found himself smiling.

  When it was over, he was going home to Lydia.

  * * *

  LYDIA OPENED HER EYES, her sleep-fuzzy brain trying to figure out what was going on and why she was awake. The realization she was on a couch came first, followed quickly by the fact it was Aidan’s couch.

  She jerked upright and saw him standing at the kitchen island, putting his keys in the wooden bowl he kept there and plugging in his cell phone. A small duffel bag was at his feet and she knew it held some toiletries and a change of clothes for when he was going to a firehouse besides his own. He’d showered, though he hadn’t shaved, but he looked exhausted.

  He looked over at her and smiled when he saw she was awake. “Sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

  “I told you to wake me up.”

  “It’s pretty early. I figured I’d let you sleep another hour, at least.”

  “By then, you’ll probably be asleep.”

  He shrugged and turned on his coffee brewer. “I never go right to sleep when I get home. I’m having decaf, but do you want a coffee?”

  “Sure.” She got off the couch and stretched her back. “Just let me run in the bathroom real quick and then I’ll help you make them.”

  She probably should have skipped looking in the mirror. At least her hair wasn’t too insane. Though she hated sleeping with it in a ponytail, she’d left it when she crashed on his couch so it would stay reasonably contained. But her face was slightly puffy and her eyes a little bruised-looking from not sleeping well.

  She’d known Aidan was okay for quite some time before she got a response to the text she’d finally given in and sent to him. Scotty had reached out to somebody and gotten the word on who was injured and how badly. But even once she had that information, her mind hadn’t settled.

  What the hell was she doing messing around with a firefighter again?

  Sex was one thing, and she would have said even that was off-limits if she’d been asked before seeing Aidan again. At least with casual sex she could pretend she was leaving her emotions out of it. But there was no denying her emotions had gotten all tied in a knot when she heard Aidan could be hurt, and the need to see him—to see for herself that he was okay—had driven her to curl up on his couch and wait for him to come home.

  After washing her face and using his mouthwash, Lydia went back to the kitchen. She must have beat herself up in front of the mirror longer than she thought, because he was already done making their coffees and had set them on the coffee table. He looked exhausted, she thought, taking a seat on the couch.

  “You okay?” he asked, which she thought was ironic. “I know you probably didn’t sleep well on the couch, but you look like something’s bothering you, too.”

  She shook her head, not wanting to talk about it. And even if she did want to talk about it, now wouldn’t be the time. Picking up her coffee mug, she drank while looking at the television screen. He’d turned the news on, but the volume was muted so she had to read the subtitles.

  “I guess it probably has something to do with your text from last night,” he said, pushing the issue.

  “I swore to myself I’d never do this again.”

  She should have sent something simple. Let me know you’re not hurt. Or maybe just you okay? Instead, in a moment of emotional weakness, she’d shown her cards. “It was no big deal. You know how written words are. Without inflection and facial expression and stuff, it probably sounded a lot heavier than it was meant to.”

  “I should have sent you a text. I should have known that, once the code went out, you’d worry. But the fire was getting away from us and...I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t even know you were working. When Scott said you were with those guys, it scared me.”

  “It was a last-minute thing.” He had his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, but he wasn’t drinking it. “I’m not used to having people worry about me, I guess. The people who care about me the most tend to be with me when shit happens, you know? Last night was different, but in the heat of the moment, I didn’t think.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” Lydia said sharply, not wanting to dig any deeper into feelings at the moment. “Or a text or a phone call.”

  He looked at her for what felt like forever, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you mad at me or yourself here?”

  “That’s a stupid question.”

  “Not really, because there’s no good reason for you to be this pissed off at me, so I’m thinking you’re mad at yourself and taking it out on me. And I’m happy to be a shoulder to lean on, but I’m a little tired right now and not in the mood to be a whipping boy.”

  “Last night was just one of the reasons I never should have slept with you in the first place.” She set her mug down on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’m not cut out to be a firefighter’s wife again.”

  “If anybody knows how to live with a firefighter, it’s you. I mean, you grew up surrounded by them, for chrissake.”

  “Okay, let me clarify that. I don’t want to be a firefighter’s wife again.” She used both hands to push her hair back from her face. “I have to stop using the word wife. Not wife. I swore I’d never get involved with another firefighter.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but you’re always going to be involved with firefighters. Your brother, your brother-in-law, your friends.”

  “My brother-in-law? I think we can see how well that’s turning out for Ashley.”

  “I think that’s
more about Danny’s personality making it hard for them to talk to each other than his job.” He took a sip of the decaf, watching her over the rim of the mug. “My point is that you’re going to worry no matter what. I bet even when you were in New Hampshire, if there was a fire in Boston on the news, you had to know which companies were involved.”

  She couldn’t deny that was true, but it was different. “There’s a difference between being worried about a member of the larger community and waiting for the guy who’s supposed to put you first to remember to let you know he’s not dead.”

  “Well, I’m never going to be a guy who says ‘I’m gonna save your life, but hold your breath and try not to inhale any smoke for a minute so I can text my girlfriend a status update,’ and I don’t want to be.” He shrugged. “I responded to your text as soon as I could.”

  The word girlfriend stuck in her mind. Was that how Aidan saw her, or was he just making a point? “Now I sound like a self-centered bitch.”

  “You’re not a self-centered bitch. You have some issues, like with your dad and your ex-husband, and right now those issues are making you a little unreasonable.”

  She stood and looked down at him. “I’m going to go now, because this just seems to be getting worse and we’re both tired.”

  “I don’t want you to go, Lydia.”

  “And I don’t want to sit here and talk about how my issues are making me unsupportive and unreasonable.”

  “That’s not fair. Look, you married an asshole. That sucks, but that guy being an asshole doesn’t mean I’m an asshole, too, just because we do the same job.” He set his mug on the table. “I’m not carrying some other guy’s baggage.”

  “It’s my baggage,” she snapped. “And don’t worry about it. I can carry it myself.”

  “Stop,” he said when she headed for the door. “Lydia, please. Just wait.”

  Something in his voice broke through her anger, and she turned back to face him. “What?”

  “I’m not asking you for anything, Lydia. Just a little company for a while.” He held up his hands. “Maybe we could watch a movie or something. I just don’t want to be alone.”