“Stationed local?” Warren asked between sets, wiping down a barbell.
“Yeah,” Reece said. “Worthbridge. Red Watch.”
“Long time in?”
“Ten years next March.” He grinned, pride sneaking in under the sweat. “Still not bored of it.”
They fell into rhythm with no need to speak. Spotting, counting reps, swapping the occasional bit of praise between sets. A gym-floor camaraderie coming easy enough when they clearly both knew their limits and respected them. Then, as Reece racked the bar again and reached for his towel, Warren steered the conversation.
“Heard about the fire at the school.”
Reece exhaled, deep and tired. “Yeah. That one’ll stay with me.”
“You there?”
“First crew in. Pulled a teacher and a kid out.” He dragged the towel across the back of his neck. “Science block, third floor. Place was caving by the time we got to ‘em.”
Warren gave it a beat, casual. “The teacher. Ellison, right?”
Reece nodded. “Jude. Yeah. You know him?”
“Starting to. I’m the new PE teacher.”
“Ah.” Reece grinned. “Good. That place needed someone who actually gave a shit about sport. Last bloke looked allergic to sweat.”
Warren smirked, thinking of Stanmore and his secret stash of pastries. “What’s he like? Jude. You know him well?”
Reece shrugged one shoulder. “Nice guy. Quiet. Bit intense. Not local, I don’t think.” Then he met Warren’s eye with a flash of something playful. “I know most the original Worthbridge gays.” He winked.
Warren felt that like a jolt to the sternum. “Right. Yeah. I figured.”
“You interested?” Reece asked bluntly, giving him a once-over, more appraisal than judgment.
Warren gave a soft, practiced laugh. “He’s a colleague.”
“Colleagues fuck, mate. That’s how I met my man.”
Warren raised a brow. “Oh yeah? You’re… with another firefighter?”
“Paramedic.” Reece switched out for a heavier set of weights, then moved straight into bicep curls without missing a beat. “But if you want to know more about Ellison…” He nodded towards the mirrored wall, directing Warren’s attention to the treadmills behind them.
Warren followed the line of sight to a runner. Lean build, fast pace, dark hair and neat beard, jaw set as if running from something only he could see. Freddie Webb. Warren recognised him from the staff training day, and from his name popping up in the Radley case files at multiple intersections. Arresting officer of Alfie Carter. First on scene at the warehouse fire last term. Local. Known. Respected. Warren had noticed his easy rapport with Jude at the training day.
“So…” He turned back to Reece. “He and Ellison…?”
Reece nodded, mid-rep. “Had a thing. Didn’t last long. Rebound for Webb. Then Webb’s one-that-got-away walked back into his life, and now he and Carter are house-hunting and planning dog ownership like they’re reinventing love.”
“Carter?”
“Nathan Carter. Owns Carter Cars. Big bloke. Used to be army. Now a mechanic. Give you a discount on your next service.”
“Son called Alfie?”
“That’s the one. Kid Ellison stayed behind to save during the school fire.”
Warren adjusted his grip on the bar. “Sounds like a hero.”
“Yeah.” Reece finished his set. “Is in my book.”
