But they’re right. Squad Two is great but we rarely get calls like the one we were on tonight. Ever since the district did some realigning, our calls have become the more docile, run of the mill, saving people from downed power lines and retrieving frightened kittens from trees types of calls. Not a bad gig for family men like Larry and Rich, who want to make it home to their wives and kids at the end of the day, but boring as shit for a guy like me.
“Not only will you likely get the Tom Webster for this, but I’m betting as soon as there’s an open spot over at Rescue Four it’ll have your name written all over it.”
My heartbeat quickens at the thought of getting transferred to Rescue Four. Known around the department unofficially as the elite squad. That’s exactly where I want to be. I couldn’t give a shit about the Tom Webster or any other medals. No one runs into fires, risking life and limb for a fucking medal.
“We’ll let you get some rest,” Arnold says after a few moments of silence.
I nod in their direction. However, right before they get to the door, I pull the mask from my face and call out, “The kid?” My voice is weak, but they hear me.
It’s evident by the way all three of their backs stiffen.
There’s a pause.
The quiet speaks for itself.
Larry slowly pivots to face me again, his head hanging low, and there’s a glossy sheen in his dark brown eyes. He’d be the most emotional seeing as how his son is the same age as Jackson.
“He didn’t make it, man.”
His words become the heavy, solid weight that settles onto my chest, stealing my next breath. Even with the oxygen mask it becomes difficult to breathe, and it’s not due to the smoke inhalation.
“Emanuel,” Arnold begins, moving closer to my hospital bed, “you busted your ass out there. You saved that woman and her newborn baby. And …” He hesitates, looking back. “That woman got to hold her boy’s hand as he took his last breath because of you. You did your job better than anyone out there tonight, man. Don’t forget that.”
I can’t process Arnold’s words at the moment. All I know is that a five-year-old little boy is dead. A boy that I missed on my first sweep through of the apartment. If that shit isn’t my fault, whose is it?
****
Janine
Meanwhile, on the other side of town ...
Jealousy is such an ugly emotion,I remind myself yet again as my hands tighten around the stem of the rose and hydrangea bouquet I hold in my hand. I lift my head to glance up to the center of the pulpit where my close friend, Angela Moore, is pledging to love, honor, and obey, her husband, Eric Kim. Angela looks beautiful in the creme, satin gown she’s wearing. The color stands out against her pecan-brown skin. I smile at the curly ringlets in her hair and the purple streak that remains evident. I’ve always admired Angela’s ability to be whoever she wants to be. In spite of my own childish jealousy, I am happy for my friend. I remember just a few years ago how devastated she was when both of her parents were killed in a plane crash. They truly were her best friends. Yet another thing I admire about her. The bond she has with her family, who now includes not only her brother and nephew, but Eric. She’ll surely make a great wife and mother someday.
Sighing, I shove my own thoughts aside to focus on the nuptials taking place right in front of me. I will be happy for Angela—she deserves the wedding and the man of her dreams, and she’s getting both. I smile wide and clap along with the rest of the bridal party and guests when Angela and Eric seal their vows with a kiss. I proceed toward the center aisle of the church, and wrap my hand around the arm of one of the groomsmen. I look up to see his dark eyes sparkling down at me as he grins followed by a wink right before we start to follow the rest of the wedding party.
“Weddings make you emotional?” he questions.
I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, and he tilts his head toward my face. Touching my cheek with my free hand, I realize a lone tear has escaped.
“Don’t worry, beautiful. I have just the cure for whatever ails you,” he states smoothly.
I roll my eyes, but a smirk plays at my full lips. “No thanks, Don.” He’s one of Eric’s teammates at the fire station. Angela warned me that he was a serious flirt. However, she failed to mention how damn fine he is. Hell, from what I’ve seen,allof the men at Rescue Four are drop dead gorgeous. Almost as if it’s a prerequisite to work at the fire station.Number one, be able to put out fires. Number two, can pull people from a burning building. And last but certainly not least, be over six-feet tall, muscular, jaw chiseled to perfection, and look good enough to set women’s hearts on fire wherever you go.Or perhaps, that’s just how the requirements go in my head.
At the exit, all of the guests throw rice at the bride and groom, who then leave to take pictures at a local park. Don moves to step in front of me.
“So what do you say we ditch this reception and go make some memories of our own?” His dark eyes narrow mischievously.
I lift my hand to smooth back the chignon I’d put my permed hair into for the wedding. “I don’t think that’d be such a good idea.”
Don’s lips form into a pout, and for a split second he actually achieves the innocent look he’s going for. But too soon, his eyes fill with that mirth I’d begun to realize was natural for him. “Oh yeah? Why not?” He lifts a dark eyebrow.
I raise mine as well. “I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that very much,” I retort, saucily, placing a hand on my hip.
“Boyfriend?” he quips and looks around as if searching for someone. “Where is he? I’ll have a talk with him.”
I burst out laughing, before throwing my hand over my mouth. I shake my head. “You probably would try, too.”
“For you?” He eyes me up and down, his gaze growing heated. “Absolutely.”
