Chapter 2
TWO
“Were you going to tell me?”
Scorn licked along Gus’s insides as he watched his new partner work very, very hard to maintain eye contact. He hated these moments and the comments they often brought out of people when they got a look at Gus’s prosthesis for the first time.
“What the heck happened to you?”
“Damn, bro, you’re inspiring!”
“I would delete myself if that happened to me.”
People made snap assumptions about amputees. Decided without even speaking to him that Gus was lesser or broken or deserved a gold star for not giving up on life because he was missing a part of his body.
“I lost it to a shark,” Gus said to Walters, voice dry as fresh gauze. “Ran into a Great White while I was surfing out on the Cape.”
Walters goggled at him. “A shark ? Seriously?”
“No.”
Those pretty blue eyes turned hard in a flash. “What the hell, man?”
Gus shook his head. He was used to people being weird about his leg. Most had little experience with amputees in their day-to-day and carried notions about mobility and quality of life that had them convinced Gus couldn’t be physical—vital—while also missing a limb.
But Gus had expected more from Walters. The guy was a health professional for fuck’s sake and had no business shoving his discomfort back onto Gus.
“Do you do this with your amputee patients?” Gus asked. “Make them feel shitty for having lost limbs?”
The color drained from Walters’ face. “No. I would never talk to a patient like?—”
“So, just to me then—that’s nice.” Gus went back to wiping his boot. “I’d have told you about my leg when I felt like it. Because that is my right and you being uncomfortable with my body is your problem not mine.”
“You’re right.” Walters had a hand in his hair when Gus glanced up. “I’m sorry.”
Gus eyed him narrowly. “For being an ass or because I called you out?”
“The first one. I’ve never worked with someone who uses a prosthesis before and my … my mouth got ahead of my brain.”
Gus stuck the soiled wipe into the waste bag and grabbed another. “I get the feeling that’s a thing with you, huh?”
He didn’t care that he sounded salty. Gus did not want to be having this conversation right now or a partner who was prone to dumbassery, and if he wanted to die mad about it, he would.
Walters surprised Gus by nodding. “It can be. Sometimes when I’m nervous I start blabbering, and I’m definitely nervous tonight because I need this partnership to work.”
The admission coupled with Walters’ red face loosened the knot in Gus’s chest slightly. It wasn’t an apology, but it was an honest answer and Gus appreciated the candor.
Gus gestured toward his right leg. “I’m BTK at the midway point on the tibia,” he said, knowing Walters would understand Gus meant his amputation had been done ‘below-the-knee’ and about halfway up his shin. “I wear a prosthesis on duty so I can drive and handle anything this job throws at us. Yes, I live with a disability, but it doesn’t get in the way of me being me.”
In truth, Gus’d put in hundreds of hours re-learning how to move and function with his prosthesis and adjusting his gait so he could walk without limping. But he didn’t want or need praise for passing as ‘normal’ or succeeding at just living his life, so he didn’t bother explaining any of that to Walters.
“I’ve been lucky making my prosthetics work,” Gus said instead. “I can play sports and do my job, and when I’m promoted to paramedic, I’ll be the first amputee to wear that badge for Boston EMS.”
Walters blinked once, then nodded. “I didn’t know you were looking to move up to an ALS truck.”
“I’ve got my certs and finished my field training. Just waiting for a spot on P1 to open up.”
Gus left it at that. By now, Walters would know the ins and outs of becoming a paramedic for Boston EMS; that positions opened up rarely and required months of classroom work, hospital rotations, and shadowing other paramedics. Getting it all done around regular shifts on duty and life was always challenging, but if an EMT wanted to ride an Advanced Life Support truck like P1, you did the work and hoped a slot came along sooner rather than later.
Gus’d dropped his boots to the ground and was disinfecting his hands when their radios beeped again.
“A1, what’s your twenty?”
Walters thumbed the talk switch on his unit. “A1 at MGH,” he replied to the dispatcher. “You can show us as clear.”
“Copy. We have a possible eye injury at 26 Kingston Street. Female, twenty-three years of age, struck in the face by a glitter bomb. 16-A-1, moderate vision loss due to particulate. Subject is conscious and responsive, Code Two with lights only.”
They went to the cab, Walters behind the wheel again to give Gus time to get the right boot back on over his foot, but Gus noticed his partner was frowning. “What?”
“Is a glitter bomb what it sounds like?”
“Yup. That address on Kingston Street is Mister Moves, a male burlesque club where glitter bombs are a thing.” Gus smirked at Walters’ headshake. “I’m thinking it’s bachelorettes pre-gaming the show since it’s still early. Anyway, I’ll take point and?—”
Walters put a hand on Gus’s arm. “Hey, I can handle it. I promise you that I am good at my job.”
Acutely aware of the palm pressing heat through his uniform’s sleeve, Gus quirked a smile. “Okay. I still say it’s safer for me to take point.”
Walters dropped his hand. “Gus.”
“Walters.” Gus parroted his partner’s warning tone and basked in the withering expression it earned him.
“Knock it off. What do you mean by safer?” Walters pressed. “Do we need cops for backup?”
“Jesus Murphy, no.” Gus laughed. “The last thing we need are more uniforms. Just follow my lead and we will be fine.”
Walters hit the ignition but not before glowering at Gus in a way that had the back of Gus’s neck heating.
Fuck, angry Walters is sexy.
“I need to know what we’re walking into here, Gus.” Walters said. “I have a daughter to get home to, and I need to know if I’m going to be safe.”
Gus’s heart gave a strange little jerk. “I would never knowingly put you in harm’s way,” he said. “As for what we’re about to walk into, let’s just say the glitter-bomb crowd isn’t dangerous but it’s possible they'll think we’re part of the show.”
Walters’ mouth opened and closed again. “But why?”
“Well, you’re stupid hot, just like Mark said, while I am a fucking delight,” Gus said, “and we’re dressed in first-responder uniforms. If we have a cop with us, those women will eat us alive in the nicest way possible.”
“What is my life?” Walters muttered, cheeks fiery as he steered the truck onto Cambridge Street.
The scene was indeed a bachelorette party tucked away in a private room at Mister Moves. The place was festooned with pink and silver balloons and streamers and the crowd of young women who descended on Gus and Walters was delighted to find men in uniform in their midst before a bouncer gently herded the partygoers toward the bar.
Their patient, Gabby, was seated at the back of the room and coated with pink and silver bits. The shit was in her ear and nasal canals for God’s sake, though the skin around the eye sockets was cleaner than Gus had expected.
“How you doin’, Miss Gabby?” he asked. “And what happened here?”
“I don’t even know,” she grumbled. “I was just setting up the party favors and boom, glitter got everywhere!”
“Is the blood on the tissue in your hand from your nose?”
“Yeah. I wear glasses.” Gabby waved glitter-encrusted frames in the air. “They smacked into my nose, and it hurt like a motherfucker.”
“The glasses did a good job of shielding your eyes.” Gus pressed his fingertips lightly against the sides of Gabby’s nasal bridge. “Nothing feels broken, but how’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”
“I’ve been drinking since noon so I’m going with a fairly medicated three.”
“That’s … cool, I guess.” Gus exchanged an amused glance with Walters, then froze when Gabby leaned over and slipped her arms around Gus’s neck.
“Your voice is sexy ,” she said, “and wow, you smell really nice! Just don’t make me go to the hospital, okay? This is my best girl’s party and I don’t want to miss it.”
Walters hollowed his cheeks, doing his best not to crack up, but then a blonde sporting a tiara with ‘ Same Penis Forever’ spelled out in rhinestones across its front dashed over and he legit snorted.
“Is she okay?” the blonde asked, voice pitched loud over the music and chatter of partygoers.
“I’m fine, Ash,” Gabby said against Gus’s neck. “These nice boys are taking good care of me.”
Gus eased Gabby back into her seat, but as he and Walters used saline and gauze pads to wipe off the glitter, the partygoers at the bar got progressively louder.
“Atta girl, Gabs!” one of the girls shouted. “You already got two guys on their knees!”
“Threesome!” another bellowed nonsensically, the rest quickly taking up the chant, hooting and hollering while Ash and Gabby shushed them through their own cackling.
Laughing themselves, Gus and Walters sat back on their heels.
“All right, Miss Gabby,” Walters said. “Let’s see those peepers.”
Her damp lashes fluttered a few times before Gabby opened her eyes and broke out in a huge smile.
“Guy-y-y-s!” she exclaimed, trying to hug both Gus and Walters at the same time. “Thank you for freeing my eyeballs!”
Gus barked a laugh. “How do you feel, girl?”
“I feel amazing!” she exclaimed, dark eyes only a little bit reddened as she planted a kiss on his cheek. “And so ready for drinks!”
“Bruh, you’ve got glitter in your hair.”
“And you have a fork in your butt, so quit judging.”
Gus leveled a look at their patient, Perry, who did indeed have an actual utensil sticking out of his left buttock, and the two shared a chuckle that had Madoc smiling too.
Over the course of this wildly uneven night, he’d come to understand his new partner delighted in being a pain in the ass. Luckily, Gus was also a baller on the job and great with his patients, unfailingly kind in the face of hysteria, incoherence, and abuse as he provided top-notch care. Gus also seemed to have only one mode, On , which kept him in near-constant motion and made it easy for Madoc to forget his new partner was missing part of his leg.
Something he was happy to do if it meant never thinking about how badly he’d bungled the discovery of Gus’s prosthetic.
“How’d you fall into the dishwasher?” Madoc asked Perry.
“Tripped.” Perry hissed as Madoc and Gus eased him onto the gurney. “Tried to catch myself on the way down but everything went to hell and man, my landlord’s gonna be pissed.”
“Can’t you just pull the fork out of his bum?” That was Perry’s girlfriend, an attractive young woman named Nora.
“Unfortunately, no,” Gus replied. He and Madoc had arranged Perry on his right side and were busy securing him with the gurney’s straps. “There are arteries in the buttocks connected to the main blood supply in the body and even slight damage can be dangerous.”
“Ooh, drama.”
Madoc wondered at the girl’s odd tone. Granted, a fork in the butt was rather comical, but her apparent disinterest after what Gus’d just said struck him as odd. And then Nora was right there at Madoc’s side, standing just slightly too close.
“Where are we taking him?” she asked.
We?
“You don’t need to come,” Perry said before Madoc could answer. “I doubt it’ll take long.”
Nora scoffed. “Please. You know this’ll take ages. I’ll go grab my shoes.”
She was undoubtedly right. Even at this late hour, Perry was looking at a couple of hours in an ED, whether he ended up needing a bandage and tetanus booster or more intensive care. But then Madoc saw Perry’s knuckles go white around his phone and an alert went off in his brain.
“You can’t ride with us.” Madoc put a sheepish expression on for Nora. “Only immediate family are allowed in the ambulance.”
“Oh, yeah?” Expression arch, Nora looked at Gus. “Since when?”
Gus was looking at Madoc though, and Madoc looked right back. A friend or family member was always welcome to ride along, provided the patient wanted them. This friend gave Madoc a weird vibe, however, and he didn’t want her near Perry.
Trust me , he tried to tell Gus with his eyes. Trust me to know my patient.
Gus’s expression shifted subtly, and he gave Nora a small smile. “It’s a new policy,” he said. “Non-family members aren’t allowed in the trucks anymore.”
For a second, Nora’s expression faltered. But then she smiled, and unease prickled up the back of Madoc’s neck.
“Pretend I’m his sister,” Nora said. “It’s not like anyone’s going to ask.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t mess around when it comes to patient care.” Gus’d stopped smiling and now turned to Perry. “Where’s your wallet, buddy? Let’s grab it on the way out.”
Perry blinked. “Um. My backpack’s on the bench by the door.”
“I’ll bring it,” Nora began, but fell silent again at Gus’s quelling look.
“You can’t ride with us, ma’am,” Gus said, tugging the gurney and Perry toward the exit. “You’re free to follow however you want to get there, of course.”
His cool tone—the ‘ma’am’ Gus’d used instead of a more playful ‘hon’ or ‘Miss Nora’—sucked the air out of the room. And when Madoc glanced down at Perry, his patient’s body was rigid, almost like he was holding his breath.
“What do you think the police would say about this?” Nora asked, her tone very casual. She’d folded her arms over her chest though, and her mouth was a straight, tight line. “I mean, EMTs aren’t allowed to turn people away, are they?”
Gus stopped the gurney just inside the door, and now he looked almost puzzled. “We’re not turning our patient away, ma’am. If you’re also injured, I’ll get dispatch to send another ambulance ASAP.” He set his hand on his radio. “Or ask for Boston PD and you could talk to them now.”
Madoc bit back a smirk. Nora could complain to whomever she wanted about not being allowed to ride, but the cops always had the ambulance crews’ backs and not one of them was going to argue with Gus or Madoc over how they chose to manage their truck.
“I’m good,” she said airily, though her face grew pinched when Gus bent to grab Perry’s backpack. “You still haven’t said where you’re taking him.”
Madoc waited until they were out in the hall before answering. “We need to assess Perry’s wound,” he said, “and then we’ll make a decision.”
Silence followed them down the hall though Madoc felt Nora’s gaze on the nape of his neck all the way to the elevator. He didn’t glance back, knowing Gus had his six, eyes flicking every so often over Madoc’s shoulder to where Madoc knew Nora still stood.
Once aboard the truck, they locked themselves in the patient cabin, then got to work cutting away Perry’s pants and underwear so they could swaddle his lower half with a blanket.
“Do you or Nora own any firearms, Perry?” Gus asked. “You’re not in trouble, but I need to make sure you and my partner are safe.”
“We don’t have any guns.” Perry’s voice sounded distant. “Did you grab my bag?”
“Yup.” Stepping forward, Gus picked the navy backpack up from where he’d set it on the captain’s chair, then startled the shit out of Madoc by pulling a pair of running shoes out of it. “Scooped these up on the way out.” He set everything down on the gurney beside Perry. “You don’t want to be walking around in socks once you’re released.”
Perry pressed his lips thin.
“What happened tonight, Perry?” Madoc asked gently. “Did she hurt you?”
“Sorta.” Eyes squishing closed, Perry dropped his head onto the gurney. “I did fall into the dishwasher. But only because we were arguing and she pushed me.”
Disgust left a bitter taste in Madoc’s mouth. He treated victims of domestic abuse far too often in his line of work, and his heart went out to every one of them.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, giving Perry’s shoulder a squeeze. “Has she hurt you before?”
“Yeah, but not like this.”
Settling himself on the bench by the gurney’s left side, Madoc studied his patient. He hated the defeat he glimpsed on Perry’s face. Knew Perry was battling a very specific kind of shame because his abuser was a petite female who looked perfectly harmless while Perry himself was taller and stronger. So, Madoc kept his voice gentle, knowing Perry badly needed to feel safe and heard and absolutely not judged.
“Nora shouldn’t be hurting you ever, Perry,” Madoc said. “You understand what I’m saying?”
Perry’s nod was jerky. “I just … I don’t know how it started.”
“I hear you,” Madoc said. “And it’s not your fault that it did.”
He talked a little about domestic abuse resources while he and Gus checked Perry out, but it was only when Gus radioed back to dispatch for police backup that Perry shook off some of his daze.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking from Gus to Madoc. “Why is he calling the cops?”
“In case Nora or someone else followed us outside,” Madoc replied simply. “We won’t know until Gus opens the doors and steps out, and he just wants to make sure we’re all safe.”
Glancing at Gus, Madoc spotted the glitter shining among the strands of his brown hair. They’d been finding pieces of the stuff all night on their clothes and skin, but damned if it didn’t suit Gus somehow. The straight slope of his nose, which was strong without being harsh. His lips, pursed as he listened to the dispatcher, so different from his wide smiles because Gus was one of those generically good-looking guys whose face was absolutely transformed by emotion.
Madoc’s asshole brain shouldn’t have noticed any of that of course, so he shoved it all aside and put his focus on helping his patient.
He felt kind of buzzed as he sat on the truck’s back bumper outside Mass General after the transport though, his gaze on the still-dark sky and his breaths turning to smoke in the chilly air. Madoc had made it through his first shift riding A1 with no patients dying, and that was a win in his book.
Gus strolled up, holding a tray with their travel mugs in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.
“Got you some go-juice,” Gus said, bending slightly at the waist to get the tray in front of Madoc. “Didn’t know how you take it, so I picked up creamer and sweetener and stuff.”
“Thank you.” Sighing, Madoc took his mug and some plastic creamer cups from the tray. “I need this after that mess of a call.”
“Dude, I know.” Gus settled himself on the bumper too. “I got a strange vibe from the girlfriend straight away, but what tipped you off?”
“Their body language. She got too close to me at one point and Perry kind of froze. And when you said she couldn’t ride with us …” Madoc shook his head. “Her expression was weird.”
Gus hummed. “That was good work back there,” he said. “Your instincts were great, and you handled a strange situation very well.”
“Thanks.” Madoc turned to doctoring his cup of coffee with creamer. “Listen, I want to apologize for my earlier terrible attitude. I know you know Billy Lord was my last partner, and we did okay working together. But he treated me like I didn’t have years on the job, and it got to me, maybe more than I realized.” He looked back up at Gus. “I’m a great EMT, Gus, and I don’t need to be handheld, you know?”
“I do. Billy’s old-school in ways true rookies need him to be, but I get that you’re different.” Gus tipped his head left to right, expression considering. “I’ll give you space when I can,” he said at last, “but you’re still a recruit and I’ll be your supervisor for the next four months. There may be times I override you and maybe you’re not going to like that. Just understand that it’ll never be personal.”
“Good to know,” Madoc said without hesitating.
He couldn’t argue Gus’s point when, fair or not, Gus was senior to him and that was simply all there was to it. Besides, Madoc had more apologizing to do if he wanted to get a decent evaluation out of this partnership.
“I’m also sorry I was weird about your prosthesis,” he said, his face heating again. “I was caught off guard and?—”
“—your mouth got away from you. I get it.” Gus regarded his cup for a beat, frowning softly. “It was never going to be a simple thing to tell or show you, Walters, no matter what. But now you know, and you can decide how you feel about it going forward.”
Madoc frowned too, unsure what to make of Gus’s words. What was there for him to decide about Gus’s prosthesis? The dude was an amputee, and it wasn’t like he had any choice about using one. Right?
“Will you tell me if I say the wrong thing?” he asked. “I don’t want to mess up with you and I know it’s not your job to educate me about your life, but I probably will say stupid stuff because I don’t know what I don’t know.”
“That’s … very honest of you to admit,” Gus said. “And I get what you mean. So yeah, I’ll tell you if something you ask or say comes off as not cool.”
Smiling slightly, he dangled the brown paper bag he’d brought out with him between Madoc and himself. “I brought you a peace offering in bolos .”
“In what now?”
“Portuguese muffins, also known as bolos levedos . Trust me, they’ll change your life. Take them home to your fam,” Gus said. “All the kids I know love bolos , especially if butter and jam are involved.”
That was thoughtful.
Bemused, Madoc accepted the bag. “Thank you. I’m making breakfast for Val this morning and these will be fun to try. You sure you don’t want to keep some for yourself?”
“I ate two while I was waiting to pay,” Gus said with a chuckle. “I’m slutty for baked things, bread and cake in particular.”
He walked off, moving at a more relaxed pace than he had all night. And boom, Madoc was aware of Gus’s leg and prosthesis again, a host of questions he’d never had about a partner hitting him all at once.
Did the remaining part of Gus’s limb cause him pain? How long did he wear his prosthetic every day? Did he switch out the style of foot depending on his activity? How had he gotten so good at walking and working with it?
“Yo! Ground Control to Walters, come in, Walters!” Gus called back. “You ready to ride?”
“Yup!” Standing, Madoc jogged around to the passenger side and popped open the door. “Sorry, just got a lot on my mind.”
Gus started the truck with a smirk. “Do your thinking later, guy. We still need to hose this beast down and vacuum up ninety-five thousand pieces of glitter.”