I keep seeing his hands, they writhe like snakes against Liam’s chest. I want to slap them off him, tear them away and pull Liam clear, pull him towards me. It’s my arms I want around him. We’ve never so much as hugged, and I’ve never seen anyone hug him, not even Ryker, but Keiron pawed at his body, though I suppose that’s always been happening behind closed doors, they’ve been together for years, but I didn’t like seeing it. I sigh. Just like I don’t like seeing Ryker’s latest set of holiday pictures—men draped all over him, and the flirty comments beneath. It’s never bothered me to this degree before, but I realise I’m jealous of the men with Ryker, and I’m jealous of Keiron watching a movie with Liam.
Maybe seeing my dad has made me revert to being a child, one who’s scared his best friends might be taken away from him forever. It feels like I’ve already lost them.
There was something else too, a thing Keiron said.
“Threes a crowd, unless there’s twins, then it’s an experience.”
Implying he’s had them both, that he’s had them together at the same time, and I don’t know why that simmers my blood. It’s none of my business, yet I imagine Keiron pawing at them both, and I dig my fingers into the sofa until my nailbeds bleed. I don’t want him to touch either of them. Ever.
Keegan’s phone buzzes on the arm of the sofa. It’s face down. I can’t see who the message is from, but my paranoia tells me it’s from my dad. From the night he came over, she’s been on her phone more and more, texting away beside me in bed when she thinks I’m asleep.
I itch to know what he’s said to her, whether he apologised on my behalf and explained away my behaviour with his fake father routine. She said she’s blocked him. I don’t know if I believe her, and I shift along the sofa and reach for her phone while watching the door.
I take a deep breath and turn it over, and it lights up with the name Ben.
My exhale breezes through clenched teeth as I let my head drop in shame.
It’s not my dad.
If she says she’s blocked him, then she’s blocked him.
I should’ve trusted her.
But I don’t.
I don’t trust anyone thanks to him.
8
Ryker
As a fire goes, this one is impressive. It has one of the brightest epicentres I’ve ever seen, and the force of the explosions going off inside have quite literally blown out the windows and lifted the roof clean off like something out of a cartoon. The building itself, a site hub, didn’t stand a chance, not only because it’s a flimsy portable structure put on the school grounds while building work was conducted on the new gymnasium, but because of what ended up being stored in the abandoned hub.
Paint.
Half-used pots of white that had been used on the gymnasium walls, and aerosol sprays for the art department. Both had been forgotten about, and the caretaker told us the building has sat there for almost eighteen months, tempting any wayward teenager with a lighter to set fire to the place.
The aerosol cans are particularly unpredictable, and ping against the walls as they explode. Thankfully, it’s a small structure, but it makes for some dramatic pictures. A crowd hasgathered, and students who attend the secondary school film the building caving in under the force of our fire hoses. Theyohhhandawwand cheer when the last wall standing finally collapses, smothering most of the flames. We continue to douse the embers, and as I run my eyes along the students, and I think back to my time at school. I was obsessed with football, believing I was destined for greatness on the pitch, and Freddie believed it too, swept up in my confidence. He worried I’d be snapped up by Barcelona and move away from him. It was a dream, but years later I told him a new one, that I wanted to be a firefighter, and it came out with a little more doubt that before, but he looked up at me with his blue eyes brimming with admiration and told me I would be.
I am one.
He beamed with pride at my graduation ceremony alongside my parents and Liam.
And when Liam became a fresh-faced police officer, Freddie went to his ceremony too, and looked just as pleased at him achieving his goal as he had for me. He believes in us, always has.
I love my job, but it can be frustrating at times. Blue and white lights flash in the distance, but they’re getting closer by the second. The children watching the show notice too, and more than half of them take off, sprinting in the other direction. I know Liam’s in the police car. Maybe it’s some sixth sense twin thing, but more likely he heard about the suspected arson attack at the school, thought I might be here dealing with it, and volunteered himself and his partner to attend.
The police car mounts the curb before stopping outside the gate.
My fire chief goes over to greet him through the fence. We drove the truck onto the school grounds and had the caretaker secure the gate behind us. He, along with the headmaster,assured me that the building with the forgotten about paint was not only locked, but boarded up for good measure. The way he told me, it was as if he was expecting a congratulations for a job well done, and he wasn’t regretful in the slightest that a huge hazard had been left unchecked on school grounds for so long. I bit my tongue, though. I didn’t scowl at him. Our priority was keeping civilians away from the fire while it mostly burned itself out fast and furiously. There are no casualties, no one was inside the building. If they had been, with that heat . . . they’d be ashes by now.
I watch as the caretaker, Aiden, follows my chief over to the fence, and sure enough I see Liam and his partner on the other side. His partner, a young brunette woman, smiles as they converse, but my brother remains serious. I do feel a sliver of pity for Aiden having to face my brother, but only a sliver.
Liam won’t be biting his tongue. He’ll be telling Aiden what a foolish man he is for allowing flammable liquids to be kept in an unsecure location. He’ll further condemn him for that location being on school property with hundreds of students close by.
The chief jogs back over to us, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s your brother.”
I hum. “I thought that officer was particularly handsome . . .”
