Austin
Heavysootisclingingto my skin. It doesn’t seem to matter that I was in full gear. I think it’s the idea of it more than anything. The scent of charred wood and melting plastic and burning electrical wires is clinging to the inside of my nose, reminding me of the horrors we fought—and lost to—with each inhale.
As soon as we pull into the station, I jump out of the rig and damn near collapse. That was one of the worst fires I’ve fought in my entire career. Jasper seems just as run-down as I am, his steps heavy as he follows me.
It’s always hard on us when we can’t get it under control. Watching someone’s home burn to the ground while they scream and cry is gut-wrenching.
Years of memories burned to ash. The doorjamb they marked the height of the children on. Gone. The family photos hanging up and down the hallway. Gone. Priceless family heirlooms and children’s clothing. Gone, gone, gone.
Jasper and I strip out of our turnout gear in silence. There’s not much to say after witnessing a sight like that. After not being able to do anything.
One of the first things I learned when I became a firefighter was howloudit is. The fire, that is. People talk about tornadoes sounding like freight trains and the eerie sounds they make, but fires are just as bad. And now, without the creaking of the structure and popping of wood, and the massive roar—louder than any tornado I’ve ever heard—the silence seems oppressive.
There’s a ringing in my ears and a weight around my neck. The heavy weight of failure. I know logically that we did all we could, but that doesn’t make it easier. Not even a little.
I drop onto the bench beside Jasper, both of us staring straight ahead. I clear my throat. “I need to let Luca know I’m gonna be running behind.”
Even though I say the words, I do nothing to make it happen. Just the thought of pulling my phone out is almost too much.
“You better do that,” Jasper says, voice dull. “He’ll worry.”
He’s right. Luca will definitely worry. I can practically see him now, pacing the floors, eyes frantic and head on a swivel. Panic is the last thing I want to cause him, so I force my arm to work—even though it feels like lead—and text him.
Me
I’m gonna be late coming home, Luc. I’m back at the station now, and I’ll let youknow when I’m on my way.
His response comes in damn near instantly.
Luca
Just be careful. See you soon.
I couldn’t tell you how much time passes before I finally push to my feet, but I know I don’t want to keep Luca waiting any longer. He’s still… fragile after the last couple of days. Our relationship feels fragile. Not that I think it will fail. Not really. All I know is that I can’t wait to spend the next forty-eight hours with him.
After everything that happened the other day, Ma gave him the rest of the week off. I know he didn’t want to leave her in a bind, but Arlo assured him he could use the extra money, and Ma threatened to tan his hide if he didn’t stay home and rest.
There’s something calming about knowing that Luca will be there when I get home. Days like this are always rough, and most times, I just go home and sit in silence, reflecting on the day.
The worst days are the ones where we’ve lost someone in a fire or a car accident. The real tragic days suck. Losing an entire house is tragic in itself, but losing alife?Infinitely worse.
Jasper follows me to the door and gives me a nod before climbing into his truck. If I know his routine—and by now, I do—he’ll be going to the bar. He’ll drink a few, find some pretty woman to take home with him, and let himself forget.
I, on the other hand, like to sit in silence. Tonight, though? Tonight, I’ll have Luca. Relief pours over me, washing away some of the stress and guilt. Even just thethoughtof having Luca waitingon me is enough to bring me out of my funk.
When I pull into the driveway, I’m surprised to find Luca sitting in the gazebo. It’s cold tonight, and he’s got a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. In the light of my headlights, I see him lift his head, a smile stretching his lips that has my heart beating double time.
He stands up before I’ve fully parked, making his way across the yard, the blanket still tucked around his shoulders.
I step out of the truck just as he makes it to me. “Hi.” His smile is shy and sweet, and suddenly my bad day doesn’t seem so bad.
“Hi,” I say back, glancing down at the notebook in his hands. “Whatcha got there?”
His cheeks flush pink. “Well, I was plotting some. I thought maybe I’d try writing again.”
“Oh?” I want so badly to ask how it’s going, but I don’t want to stress him out if it’s not going well.
“Yeah. I have a lot of ideas for this. I’m really excited, but enough about me. You look like you had the worst day ever.”
