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He had probably typed out a hundred text messages only to delete them night after night. Really, he was trying to respect her wishes. She didn’t want to see him, and as much as it hurt, he was trying hard to stay away.
It was karma in a way. Just like she had said. After all of that time avoiding commitment to avoid pain, here he was, dying inside without her. Craving her touch and the feel of her body against his own.
Troy kept going, hitting the bag again and again, wishing he could clock himself in the head for being such an idiot. He should’ve deleted those apps and gone all in. Shown up. Been there. Taken a risk and been vulnerable. Maybe then she would’ve been open to a long-distance relationship. But he had fucked it all up by getting too deep in his head. In the process of trying to protect himself, he had limited how much of himself he gave her, and that was the painful truth Megan had been trying to tell him before she threw him out.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and Troy nearly jumped out of his skin and almost clocked the poor attendant.
The look of total fear on the kid’s face told Troy exactly what he must have looked like beating the shit out of a bag and then rounding on him.
His mouth was moving but Troy couldn’t hear the words. He ripped the earbud from his ear.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
The kid’s voice almost shook, and there was definitely a crack in it. “Sir, I’m sorry, we’re closing now.”
Oh shit. He checked the clock and did the quick math. No wonder he couldn’t feel his hands. His knuckles were red, and some were cracked with a tinge of blood welling through the break in the skin.
“Thank you, uh, sorry. I guess I lost track of time. I’ll wipe this up and get out of your hair.”
He did just that and went to the locker to get his stuff, then waved to the kids at the front desk as they shut off most of the lights behind him. Through the windows, he could see the rain that must’ve started a while ago. The parking lot wasn’t flooded yet, but water was pooling around the drains with more coming down.
Troy checked the temp, which had dipped, and unzipped his bag and shrugged into his Army Gore-Tex. Might as well get used to his uniform again. His truck was at the very end of the lot, alone under a streetlight like a sad spotlight on an empty stage. He would need a shower anyway, but didn’t feeling like messing up his seats.
With a last wave, he forced a tight smile and headed out, not seeing when the two teens picked up the phone to dial the police.
CHAPTER37
The call was a big one. Three alarm fire.
Megan knew the complex before they even left. Laura had lived there a while ago. It was one of the old apartment buildings downtown.
Muscle memory took over as she grabbed her gear and hopped up into the engine behind Buzz and next to Nick. The ride was quick through the dark, and the smoke billowing out of the window mixed with the night sky to obscure the stars.
It was the building next to where Laura and Holden had lived before, full of young families.
That was evident as couples stood around in the grass around the parking lot, holding little kids covered in blankets, still in pajama pants, clearly just having been pulled from their beds.
Megan headed for apartment 1C which dispatch had let them know was the start of the fire. In one hand she had the big silver fire extinguisher, rated C for chemical. Dispatch reported it to be the dryer.
She pushed through the open door and found an inferno. A literal hell. She stepped inside a small corridor, pushing farther into the fire. The wind from the blaze taking the oxygen from the open door thrust her in more as she tried to find the source through the towering flames and thick black smoke. That’s when she spotted it in the back corner of the little hall off to the side.
What once was a stackable unit was almost unrecognizable and had been consumed by the inferno.
A few shots with the fire extinguisher did little more than shoot a cloud of yellow dust into the blaze, but it was too far gone to handle with this tool. The flames had caught onto the wall and were ripping across the ceiling, firmly entrenched and spreading fast.
“Extinguisher won’t do it. Spreading fast.”
“Wind is high,” answered Buzz. “Switch to recovery.”
The objective was to search for anyone remaining in the apartments first and try to save the building second. At least here they had town water to draw a supply from.
They went in two by two like always, calling out and searching for people. Buzz radioed in her ear.
“Everyone is accounted for except for one. Thirty years old, last believed to be in his apartment. Has a sprained ankle and can’t do stairs right now. Not answering calls.”
“Which apartment?”
“3B”
