Chapter 12 Ashes and Aftermath #2
The ambulance hit a pothole. Equipment rattled. The paramedic braced himself, not even looking up from his notes.
Colin closed his eyes and held on.
They could have died in there—both of them.
He reached across and laid the unburned tips of his fingers against Joshua’s wrist, willing himself to feel his pulse.
One. Two. Three. Still here. Still breathing. Still alive.
For now, that had to be enough.
Two hours later, after a round of exams and treatment, both men were released. Ventolin eased their breathing, X-rays were taken, oxygen masks were removed, and an endless loop of waiting finally came to an end. Thankfully, the doctors found no lasting damage.
The ride to David’s house passed in silence—just the rasp of breathing, the faint hospital smell clinging to their clothes, and the dull ache that followed trauma.
At David’s house, a black Chevy Suburban—the security detail’s ride—waited at the curb.
As soon as David parked, four heavily armed agents stepped out and closed ranks around the driveway.
Colin and Joshua followed David out of the car, their senses dulled by exhaustion and profound shock, moving on autopilot.
David opened the garage and motioned to the agents. “Chairs and a table in there—food and coffee coming soon. Bathroom’s at the back.”
One of the officers, Michael Reed, had worked with both Colin and Sarah. He moved to Colin’s side and embraced him, speaking to him in a low, hushed voice. Colin listened, grim-faced, then nodded and murmured a quiet reply before moving back to Joshua.
“You OK?” Joshua asked.
Frowning, Colin nodded, then urged Joshua toward the house. “Let’s go in. Get you off your feet.”
Once they were all in the kitchen, David turned to Nate. “Baby, grab two pairs of pajamas and new toothbrushes from upstairs, OK?”
As Nate hurried up the stairs, David led Colin and Josh into the living room. “Sit down. Try to relax.”
“I’m not sitting on your furniture, David,” Colin told him.
“Neither am I,” echoed Joshua. “Have you looked at us?” He spread his hands, indicating their clothes—still covered in grime and soot.
Nate returned and handed each of them a pair of pajamas and a toothbrush. “Use whichever bathroom you want. There’s soap and towels in both.”
“Josh,” David said, “once you’ve showered, I’ll rebandage your feet. Colin? Are your feet cut, too?”
“No. I found my sneakers before we fled.”
“I’ll rebandage your hands.”
Colin shook his head, but David wasn’t having it. “Don’t be a stubborn ass! Those bandages are already dirty. You’ll get infected.”
Joshua clutched Colin’s arm. “Colin, please.”
Colin looked at his husband’s face, his expression flat, eyes unfocused. After a moment, he just nodded, the movement slow and heavy. “OK. After I shower.” He gave Joshua’s arm a perfunctory pat, then trudged upstairs, head bowed and shoulders slumped.
Joshua’s gaze followed him, then he turned to his friends, eyes welling with tears.
“Go shower, Josh,” Nate soothed, easing him gently toward the stairs. “Everything will look a thousand times better once you scrape all this soot and grime off.”
Nate watched him go, then turned to his husband, face stricken. “Oh god, Davy!”
“I know.”
“They’re both so—so shattered. It’s tearing me apart.”
“You know what that house means to them. Seeing it like that…” He sighed. “And right now, they’re both in shock.”
“Can the house be saved?”
“I don’t know, Nate. I’ll call Graham Kingsley in the morning. If it can be saved, he’ll save it.”
“And if it can’t?”
“Then they’ll rebuild. Life goes on, my love.”
“It’ll kill them!”
“No, it won’t,” David said, stroking Nate’s hair. “They’re smart guys. They’ll see that they’re both OK, and write anything else off as expendable.”
“Eventually.”
David gave a pragmatic shrug. “Yeah. Eventually.”
When Colin and Joshua returned to the living room, David poured each of them a shot of brandy. “Sip it. It’s medicinal.”
He and Nate settled on the opposite sofa, then David leaned closer, Nate’s hand in his.
“This is your home now. The downstairs is yours. It has its own bedroom and bathroom, and we can create a small living area for added privacy. Fix it any way you like. Stay as long as you need. If it takes six months or six years to fix your house, you’re welcome to spend every day of it here.
” He leaned toward them, voice low and fierce. “Every. Single. Fucking. Day.”
Joshua bowed his head, fighting back sobs, too moved to speak. Colin looked away, blinking tears. Finally, he turned to face them. “Thank you,” he choked.
Nate leaped to his feet and wrapped his arms around Colin’s neck. “What did you think, Irish? We’d leave you sitting in the middle of West River Road? Of course you’ll stay with us!”
Across from them, David’s phone chimed, and he grabbed it, frowning. “OK, Norm. Hang on.” He extended the phone to Colin. “Your boss.”
Colin took the phone, listened for a moment, then scoffed a laugh.
“Thanks, Norm. Yeah.” He shot Joshua a look and smiled.
“He’s OK. Hanging in there. We’ll try to go back out there tomorrow, though I doubt we’ll be allowed in.
David’s lining up a contractor.” He listened again.
“Hell yes, Obi-Wan. Thanks for letting me know. Night, boss.” He scoffed a laugh and handed the phone back to David.
“He wanted me to know that Lexi Moreno is back in his cell at Red Onion and screaming like a banshee.”
“Tough shit!” Joshua muttered.
“Was he due to be released?” Nate asked.
“Transferred. Lower security. Part of the deal.”
“Some fucking deal!” Joshua spat.
Colin shook his head. “I’m not sure what to make of that. Elias Moreno is a rat-fuck bastard, but when he gives his word, it’s usually golden. He couldn’t do business otherwise.” He shot Joshua a look. “This may have been something else. We’ll see.”
“I don’t care what it was,” Joshua said, leaning against Colin, eyes drooping. “I just care what they did.”
“I know this much,” Colin growled. “Lexi-fucking-Moreno will never leave Red Onion.”
Nate knelt before Joshua and carefully rebandaged his feet. Once finished, he slid a pair of thick socks over the gauze, then a pair of David’s slippers. “There. That should do it.” He looked up. “I’d ask if you were OK but…”
Joshua stroked Nate’s hair. “Yeah. ‘OK’ is a bit much to hope for at the moment. But thanks, Nate.”
David sat on the coffee table, applying healing salve to Colin’s burned hands, his brow furrowed, the scent of antiseptic mingling with the smell of smoke, which clung to all of them.
Joshua moved to sit beside Colin.
“This’ll feel cold,” David said quietly, smoothing Silvadene over Colin’s burns. “Try not to move.”
Colin flinched despite himself, and Joshua’s hand tightened on his arm.
“They’re shallow, second-degree,” David said, voice clinical and even. “They’ll hurt like hell, but they should heal just fine. We’ll rewrap them tomorrow.”
Joshua nodded, his hand never leaving Colin’s arm.
Colin finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Didn’t expect to end the day on the goddamn injured list.”
“You’re lucky to be on any list,” David said, tugging the gauze snug. “Most people would’ve run for the door. But not you—you ran straight to the fire and tried to put it out with your bare hands.” He shook his head, both exasperated and admiring. “Couldn’t just use an extinguisher?”
Colin let out a slow breath and leaned his head against Joshua’s shoulder. “Josh was already using the extinguisher.” He glanced down at his bandaged hands. “Thanks, Davy.”
“You can thank me by taking one of your pain pills so you can sleep tonight,” David said, voice quieter. “Now go to bed, both of you,” he ordered, standing. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”