Chapter 4 #3
The knowledge, the fullness of it, hits me right in the solar plexus and steals my breath. It makes my mouth go dry. It makes my pulse race. And I’m suddenly desperately grateful that I pulled into a parking lot to jerk off less than an hour ago because otherwise I’d be mortifyingly hard right now.
This is visceral. This is want . This is craving.
This is… Ames.
Oh, fuck .
“Robbie? Helloooo?”
A hand waves in front of my face, and I realize I’ve been standing there like a six-foot-seven lump, staring at my best friend. My whole body jumps.
I spin around to see Greene trying to get my attention. I narrow my eyes.
I was already annoyed at Greene for his mistake last night—one that could’ve had serious consequences for the rest of the crew. Now, he’s grinning at me like we’re best pals, not like a penitent probie who’s up for a disciplinary review. His cocky attitude does nothing to help his case.
Neither does the fact that he just interrupted me drooling over Ames, but that’s irrelevant.
“Greene,” I snap. “You that eager to get your review underway, probie?”
To his credit, Greene seems to realize right away that he’s played this wrong. “Uh. Yes, Chief Wojcik. Sorry, Chief Wojcik.”
“Uh-huh. My office, now.”
I leave the locker room without checking to see whether Ames saw me. I really hope he didn’t catch me watching him, or he might think…
Fuck, I don’t know what he’d think. I don’t know what I think.
“You know why you’re here,” I say, once Greene and I are in my office. I gesture him to the chair in front of my desk even before I take my own.
“Yeah,” he admits. “But like I tried to tell you last night, I was being proactive, putting the fire out as quickly as possible?—”
“And as I told you last night, speed’s not the only consideration and sure as hell not the most important one.”
I was serious when I told Dr. Colburn I don’t find it difficult to make decisions at work. I’m responsible for my crew—all of them, including Greene—and I will not compromise when it comes to their safety.
If Greene was expecting to have this review with joking, friendly Robbie, he miscalculated.
“You were given a direct order from Metier. Your job was to watch the fire and make sure it was contained. Yes?”
Greene swallows. “Yes, but?—”
“You learned in your training that using a chemical extinguisher on a creosote fire can make it look like the fire’s been contained… only to make it flare hotter. True?”
Greene’s cheeks are red, and I can tell by the way his mouth pinches sullenly that he forgot this. “Yes, sir.”
“And you’re aware that discharging that extinguisher could have sent burning ash into the structure or onto the roof, where Chambers and Donaher were.”
He nods, eyes on the floor.
“You’re benched for thirty days. That’s standard?—”
Greene’s eyes flash to my face. “No, wait, please! I’m sorry. I know I fucked up. I should’ve waited. I… I signed up because I wanted to save people, you know? And I forgot my training. But keeping me out for thirty days isn’t gonna help when I need more training, not less.”
I fold my arms across my chest and stare at him impassively for a long moment. The man has potential. He’s strong and energetic and gets along great with the crew. And the fact that he apologized means he’s able to recognize when he fucked up .
“Sorry wouldn’t fix it if the house had gone up in flames or if you or someone else had gotten hurt,” I remind him quietly. “This job’s not always about speed and power, Greene. It’s not about flashy saves. It’s about being the kind of guy other people can count on.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’ll do better from now on?—”
“Yeah, you will.” I blow out a breath. “For the next thirty days, you’re being paired with a senior member of the crew on every single shift. Either Hugh, James, Axford, or myself.”
Greene frowns, perplexed. “But Axford’s a part-timer. He’s a chef, really?—”
“He is. He also has more than a decade of experience at this job, can clear a room faster than most career guys, and once carried a two-hundred-pound man down three flights of stairs without stopping. He’s a hell of a firefighter and a guy you can count on. If you can’t respect that?—”
“No, I can!” Greene assures me. “I totally can. I’ll… I’ll do whatever he says. Promise.”
“Then we’ll have this conversation again in thirty days,” I warn him. “Make sure I get good reports from the senior crew, Greene, because I don’t do third chances.”
He nods eagerly.
“For now, get started detailing Engine 1. I’ll send Metier and Ruiz over when they finish changing.”
Greene gets up to leave… which is when I notice that I forgot to close my office door, and Ames has taken up residence in the doorway. He’s leaning against the metal doorframe, arms folded over his chest, biceps bulging like…
Nope. Fucking nope.
Ames and Greene exchange nods as Greene passes, and then Ames comes in and shuts the door .
It might be the first time in my life that I’m not thrilled to be in a room with him.
He’s fully dressed now, but it doesn’t matter. What’s been seen cannot be unseen. The ghost image of him shirtless in the locker room is imprinted over him now, and echoes of want call back and forth across my brain.
I need someone who’s in my corner and will suck my dick while he’s there.
I need someone who ? —
“Well, that was enlightening.” Ames leans back against the closed door.
My eyes flash to his. “What? No! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I meant your conversation with Greene.” Ames frowns. “I overheard what you said.”
I can’t look at him. If I do, he’ll see it written all over my face that I… that I…
What? What exactly will he see? What even is this?
“You have a problem with me letting him off easy?” I manage.
“No, that’s not—I didn’t come here to fight, Rob. When I said it was enlightening, I meant the nice stuff you said about me.” Ames tries for a smile that doesn’t quite land. “I, ah, I kinda worried you might hate me, after yesterday. Wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“Hate you.” I am two hundred-plus pounds of confusion, on every level. I have no idea what he means. “Hate you?”
“Yeah.” He comes further into the room and takes the seat Greene vacated. “I was an asshole yesterday. More than the usual level of Ames Axford Assholery that you’ve come to, ah, expect and love.” He licks his lips nervously .
I bet they don’t taste like vanilla . Which begs the question, what do they ta ?—
“I’m sorry, Robbie. I shouldn’t have said… fuck, probably most of what I said. I don’t remember all of it, honestly. I’ve kinda blocked it out. But I definitely shouldn’t have said the part about?—”
“Wanting someone to suck your dick?” I challenge. I’m clutching the arms of my chair, but beneath my desk, where he can’t see.
Ames’s face turns beet red, which is strangely satisfying.
“Wow. Okay. So we’re going there.” He straightens in his seat. “Yes. That. For starters. I purposely don’t talk in, ah, detail like that around you because you’re straight, and I don’t want you to feel weird?—”
“Liar. I once listened to a whole conversation between you and Beckett about whether Pedro Pascal is a top or a bottom. You made some pretty compelling arguments for soft top, but Beckett said that was wishful thinking on your part.”
Ames’s face goes even redder in a way that makes my heart pound. “That’s not… I can’t be responsible for what you hear while eavesdropping, Robert.”
“In your parents’ kitchen?” I shoot back. “During their Super Bowl party?”
He shuts his mouth, and I can’t help but add, “For what it’s worth, I was thinking vers. But that’s probably me playing peacemaker.”
Ames stares at me. “What… what is even happening right now?” he demands in a high-pitched voice.
I don’t know. I honestly couldn’t say. It’s like someone else is in charge of my mouth. Someone who likes it when Ames blushes. Someone who likes making Ames blush.
And after a whole day of not knowing what the fuck to do or think or say… I’m pretty okay with letting this new Robbie be in charge.
“Look,” Ames goes on, “I shouldn’t have taken my pre-date nerves out on you the way I did. And I forgot to say one really important thing.”
I frown. Ames is always concerned and careful with me, but his default communication is snark. When he gets sincere like this, it’s impossible to stay angry.
“What thing?” I mutter.
“That I love you too. You’re my best friend, Rob. I will always want you in my life. You matter to me. So we’ll figure out how to navigate whatever changes happen in our friendship. Okay?”
I suck in a breath. God, I want that.
For things to go back to the way they’ve been. To know Ames and I are on the same team, always. To believe this sudden, weird wanting was temporary.
I want it so bad, I tell myself it’s true.
“Okay,” I say. “Yeah.”
Ames lets out a breath. “Thank you. I spent the whole day stress-cooking, thinking I fucked things up.”
“You didn’t,” I manage. “Until you stress-cooked and didn’t bring me anything.” I gesture with both hands to my food-free desk.
Ames laughs and pushes to his feet. He’s around my desk before I can adequately prepare myself, and his strong arms wrap around me in a hug. He smells like his coconut hair stuff.
Instinct makes me hug him back. Tightly .
“There’s a roast beef sandwich with extra horseradish for you in the fridge,” he whispers against my shoulder, which is the equivalent of a friendship haiku from this man.
And I tell myself it’s the beauty of this moment—of friendship, of being known and cared for—that makes me shiver head to toe.
And not Ames’s hot breath in my ear.