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ALEC
The alarm blares, and I blink blearily, disoriented at first. The last thing I can recall is a dream involving Tana, some whipped cream, and a pair of handcuffs. It had been a damn good dream. I’m so caught up in half-sleep, I even turn over to find her next to me, my hand searching through the sheets and blankets to find her soft, warm body but all I find is cool emptiness. Then I remember. She’s not here. She’s in a room down the hall and I’m alone in this bed.
I check my phone and see a fire alert for the Battleboro High School gym—which most residents know affectionately as simply the “Old Gym.” Part of the original high school built in the sixties, it’s been more or less empty since the new campus was built the next block over. For most folks around here, it holds a lot of special memories from their old school days. Which explains why I was alerted even though it’s my day off. If there’s a fire at a place that amounts to a historical site in Battleboro, it’ll be all hands-on deck.
I quickly tug on my turnout gear, double-checking my med bag as I go. Still half asleep, I’m already dressed and in the kitchen chugging down an energy drink when Tana shuffles in, rubbing at her eyes. A couple things hit me at once.
First, she’s wearing a pair of shorts that may as well be underwear. They flaunt her legs and hips to the degree that I’m certain must be illegal in several states. I nearly choke on the energy drink.
A second thought hits me as the drink burns a path down my throat. I can’t leave the kids alone here with her. Cursing under my breath, I dig out my phone and pray this won’t be one of those nights Mom and Dad hit the wine bottle a little too hard and sleep like the dead.
“Alec?” Tana says sleepily. “What’s wrong?” She blinks several times in rapid succession, her eyes clearing as she takes me in. “Why are you dressed like that?”
I move to her, a bit awkward in the bulky material, and lift a hand to her cheek. The sleep clears from her eyes, and they dilate a little. Fuck if I don’t love seeing her like this, all pliant and soft from sleep. I want nothing more than to sink into her warmth and feel her draped around me, even if it’s only to fall asleep wrapped in her softness.
“I got a call out, baby. Trying to get ahold of my mom to watch the girls. You can go back to sleep. Everything will be fine.”
The call to Mom goes to voicemail. I curse under my breath as I try Dad’s number with the same result. It’s not required I show up, but a place like the Old Gym means everything to the residents of Battleboro. Zeke will want everyone there.
“What’s a call out?” she asks, her voice still husky with sleep. Despite the alert still going off on my phone, it has my cock hardening in my pants.
“Fire. They need everyone available to come out. Just waiting for one of my parents to answer so they can be here in case anything happens with the girls.”
She hesitates, biting her lip, then says, “I can stay with them.”
Dad’s phone also goes to voicemail, but I’m not surprised. He could sleep through the apocalypse. “It’s okay. I’ll keep trying them.” My hand drops from her cheek and rakes through my hair. Mom’s goes to voicemail a second time.
Tana moves to the coffee machine fighting a yawn and puts a pod in to brew. “Don’t be silly. They’ll be asleep the whole time you’re gone, I imagine. I can handle that. I’ll keep trying your mom if you’re worried about it, and as soon as she gets the call, she’ll come help. You need to go.”
My phone beeps again, and I hesitate. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she answers as the scent of coffee wafts through the kitchen. “Go. I’ll keep my phone on me if you need me. We’ll be fine.”
She was right when she said I’d have to start trusting her to make her own decisions. The girls know I often have to leave suddenly, and Tana is still their mother. I shoot out a text to my parents and decide to trust her.
“Call me if anything happens,” I tell her.
Tana nods and pours herself a cup of coffee. “I will.”
I tug on my boots by the door. “You can go back to sleep. It could be a long time before I get back.”
“Stop stalling. You need to go. They’ll be fine.”
Getting to my feet, I move to open the door and then stop. I cross the space and tug her body close to me for one quick, hard kiss. “This doesn’t count as a real kiss. I just can’t leave without it.”
Her eyes are a little dazed, and her chest is flushed when I force myself to turn away from her.
Zeke is there first in the rig already doing the 360 degree size up, a key factor in all fireground operations. The 360 assessment allows him to size up all areas of the structure to gain as much intelligence as possible to minimize the risk of death or injury to his firefighters. Sometimes, an arriving officer will try to take immediate action by running into the fire without an assessment, but on a structure like the gym enclosed the way it is with few windows or doors in proportion to it’s size it would mean a higher risk to the responding firefighters.
During his 360, Zeke would note any alternate points of entry—windows or doors—as well as any areas that may pose a hazard such as downed power lines, propane tanks, or gas lines. He’ll examine the structure for fire or cracks in the walls or any other indication the roof may collapse. In this case, he already knows there isn’t a basement. If he wasn’t aware of the floor layout, the assessment would also help him formulate a best guess at the interior to determine how many probable rooms it contains.
When he’s done, he meets me and the other responding volunteer firefighters as well as the Battleboro Fire & Rescue crew at the Alpha, or address facing, side of the structure. But I don’t need to hear his instructions. The fire has already fully engulfed the structure. There won’t be any saving it. The most we can do is surround it with tankers and drown it out, making sure to protect the structures and environment around it. It takes nearly a half hour for mutual aid from the closest town to arrive with additional rigs to put out the blaze.
Hours later, I pull off my helmet and mask and wipe the streaming sweat from my face with a damp T-shirt I got from the rig. Walker is next to me, face flushed and ash-streaked, still glowing red from the heat of the fire. We observe the charred, soaked remains of the building with grim expressions.
“Shit,” Walker says with a somber tone.
“That about sums it up,” I say.
“Where’s Captain?” he asks.
I nod to where Zeke is pacing. “On the phone with the fire marshal. May take a couple hours for them to show up.”
Walker can only shake his head.
Arson.
I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen the evidence myself. This wasn’t any ordinary fire. Not only that, there were signs of objects placed in front of the entrances to the gym, which would block the ability to fight the fire, what sprinkler systems that remained operational had been tampered with and there was evidence pointing to multiple points of origin.
Who in the world would want to burn down a place like the Old Gym? It has no other significance aside from being a place of fond memories for the people of Battleboro. Unless it was some kids doing dumb shit or playing a prank. But it’s a hell of a prank.
Then Remy walks out, ashen and grim-faced. He sprays his face with water and says, “Found a body in the back. Must have been in a closet. Think it may have been some homeless person who camped out there. Cops get reports of people using the place for it all the time.”
“Shit,” Walker and I both say.
“You sure?” I ask.
“Damn near fell onto it, so I’d say yeah. I’m pretty fuckin’ sure.” Remy drinks deeply from his water bottle.
It’s nearly four in the morning when we wrap up with cops and hand over the scene to the fire marshal to begin his investigation. Finding the body made a complicated night even more complicated. Not only had a landmark of Battleboro—one of the only ones remaining after the storm—been destroyed, but an innocent life had been taken.
You get desensitized to death by doing what I do, but some cases hit you right in the gut. For me, for whatever reason, this was one of them.
I climb into my truck, exhausted from exertion, lack of sleep, and emotionally wrecked. The first thing I do is check my phone, which I hadn’t had the chance to glance at since I got to the scene.
2:15 a.m.–Tana: Wasn’t able to get ahold of your mom, but the girls are still asleep.
2:48 a.m.–Tana: Gemma woke up and puked everywhere. Google says to clean her up and give her sips of Gatorade. We didn’t have any Gatorade, so I gave her water.
3:13 a.m.–Tana: She’s crying that her stomach hurts and I didn’t know what to do so we sat in a warm shower until she felt better.
3:15 a.m.–Tana: Gemma fell asleep in the shower. I guess I’m stuck here.
3:37 a.m.–Tana: Paisley just joined us in the bathroom and threw up all over the floor. I hosed her down in the shower.
3:48 a.m.–Tana: Now they’re both crying in the shower because hearing Paisley throw up made Gemma wake up and then puke again
I’m equal parts worried and amused. I can almost hear Tana’s voice from the text messages. I make a pit stop at a twenty-four-hour gas station and grab the necessities: Gatorade, ginger ale, popsicles, and saltine crackers. I won’t be expected back at work for a few days, so we can hunker down for the duration of this stomach bug.
It’s half past four by the time I pull into the driveway. The top floor lights are blazing bright, so I load up my arms with the bags of supplies and fight with the key in the dark.
When I get upstairs, I hear a low-throated moan coming from the girls’ shared bathroom. I find the three of them curled up on the floor. Paisley and Gemma are on either side of Tana, their heads resting on her lap. She has one hand on each of their backs, rubbing soothing circles.
“Daddy,” Gemma moans without moving so much as a muscle. “We don’t feel good.”
I kneel in front of them, taking in Tana’s bruised under eyes and pale complexion. “I see that, doll face. What happened?” I ask Tana.
“I think they got most of it out of their system. At least for now. Your parents never picked up. I tried them again, but the girls really weren’t feeling well.”
“Thank you for taking care of them. Sounds like everyone had a pretty rough night.” I push back to my feet and wet two washcloths with cool water. The girls make identical sounds of relief when I press them to their foreheads. “Why don’t we get you guys in bed, and we’ll try to get some sleep?”
“What about school?” Paisley croaks.
I shake my head. “No school, sweet pea. Not until we make sure you’re both all better.”
“Is everything okay with you?” Tana asks softly so the girls don’t hear as I help them to their feet. She stands and does a little stretch that does all kinds of intriguing things to her breasts underneath her thin cotton shirt.
“As well is it can be. I’ll tell you more about it later.” A pang of grief for the loss of the part of our relationship where she’d comfort me after a hard call hits me as I shuffle the girls to their room to change and brush their teeth.
Before Tana’s accident, she would have tucked me into bed and wrapped her arms around me as I worked through the adrenaline crash after a call. Either that or got me a beer and gave me some space. She always seemed to know what I wanted. Right now, she’s hovering in the doorway, uncertain of where she’s supposed to be or what she’s supposed to be doing.
“Thanks for helping with them,” I tell her as the girls change. “You should get some sleep.”
“You don’t need me to sit with them? I’m sure you need to sleep too.”
“I won’t be able to sleep for a while. It’ll take me time to settle, and my mom will be by later once she sees how many calls she missed. She’ll help so I can sleep then. Trust me, if this is a stomach bug, you’ll want all the rest you can get if we all catch it.”
Her eyes widen, and she nods. “Alright then. Good night, Alec,” she says softly.
I give a curt nod when she doesn’t push to stay like she would have before the accident. “Good night.”
The sound of her footsteps fades as she pads down the stairs. I’d give anything to have her in bed with me as I settle our girls in next to me for the rest of the long morning. Right now, she’s downstairs, but she may as well be light-years away.
