Chapter 25
Liam
As a firefighter, compartmentalizing is something I do on a daily basis.
If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to function at my job.
I wouldn’t be able to see the things I see and continue on, or face the dangers I face with the type of confidence I need to keep me, and my brothers and sisters, safe on a scene.
I’m good at it. Hell, I might even excel at it.
But the fuck if I can compartmentalize anything when it comes to Jordan.
The fuck if I’ve been able to stuff anything down or disassociate from it.
She is everywhere. The air I breathe is full of her.
From my house, to my favorite hangouts, to my dog.
She’s on the back of my motorbike, and in the passenger seat of my car.
She even managed to infiltrate my workshop that final day.
Fuck that day. Fuck Nate. Fuck the way he surprised us. Fuck the way he reacted, and what I did next. Fuck it all. And fuck the last week.
I drank myself into a stupor after Nate and Jordan left that day. It was the only way to make the ache in my chest go away. Not that it went away, I just numbed myself to it.
If this is what a relationship feels like, I’m glad I’ve never had one. Breathing has been difficult. Like someone has been sitting on my chest at all times. Day and night.
Fuck. The nights.
I thought the nights would be the easy part.
Wrong. They’ve been the worst. I toss and I turn, unable to get comfortable.
Jordan haunts both my couch and my bed. One night I tried sleeping in the spare room, but even that didn’t work.
She’s woven and wrapped through my very essence.
I can feel her body pressed against mine every time I lay down, and yet she’s not there.
Her warmth, her scent, her smile. It’s only my thoughts and my memories.
I’m miserable. I’m never fucking miserable. Sure, I have bad days just like everyone, but I’m the guy who makes a bad day good. There ain’t nothing good these days.
Actually, that’s untrue. There’s a silver lining in all of this. I now understand on a deeply personal level that relationships aren’t worth it. My dad had it right the entire time. Fuck relationships. Being a bachelor for the rest of my life was a solid plan, and it’s one I’m going back to.
As soon as I feel like I can.
How long is it supposed to be like this?
How long does the weight stay pressing on my chest?
How long does it take until I can take a full, deep breath?
Does it ever get better? Does this ever go away?
It has to. People around the world would never do relationships if the heartbreak after didn’t get better, right?
Not that I’m heartbroken. Fuck that. I’m lonely.
I’m sad. My life has gone up in flames. Hah.
Pun intended. You’d think being a firefighter I should be able to put that shit out, but the fire is raging out of control.
My best friend hates me. The girl I really liked to fuck is gone.
The rest of my crew? They’re walking on eggshells and seem to avoid me as much as possible.
Then again, I’ve been kind of a dick. And fuck, the amount of dinners I’ve had to cook myself this week has to be at a record high since I’m not spending my evenings at Nate’s bar.
A slap to my bicep has me jolting in my chair. It pulls me out of my thoughts, and I find Luke staring at me, his lips forming a thin line across his freshly shaven face.
“The fuck you do to get out of station chores?” he grumbles at me in a low voice.
Nate’s at the front of the room swiping around on the tablet he brings in for every morning meeting filled with notes and assignments.
I scratch the back of my head with a wince.
Nothing he said was retained in my brain which isn’t going to do me any favors.
Judging by Luke’s question, Nate handed out our first assignments around the house, which means he’s also gone over any new protocols, safety checks, and memos from above.
I don’t even remember him walking in the room.
Fuck.
“Wait, what do you mean?” I suddenly say as Luke gets up from his spot at the table we’re sharing. The thing is big enough that it’s two to a table. Unless it’s Brody. He generally sits at one all alone just for the space. “I got out of it?”
Luke chuffs. “He didn’t give you anything to do. Then again, you wouldn’t have heard it. You’re a million miles away.”
A hand hits the back of my shoulder. Quinn is at my side, glowering at me. “How the hell did I get bathroom duty, and you got nothing? This is bullshit.”
“Yeah, I have the kitchen and fridge duty, and you get to what? Lay around and do nothing all day?” Hailey speaks up from the other side of Luke, a deep frown creasing her forehead.
I find Brody sitting on the edge of the desk he was sitting at behind me, his arms folded across his chest. His brown eyes are dark with disapproval. He doesn’t need to voice it like the others.
None of them are happy with me, yet I didn’t do anything. This is Nate’s fault. He’s the one that didn’t give me anything to do.
“He must have just missed me,” I tell them all, putting my hands up in surrender, like that’ll help everyone calm down. “I’ll fix this.”
Pushing out of my chair, I dash towards the door and into the hallway. Nate’s at the far end of it already, his head bowed with a hand in front of him. Probably on his phone.
“Nate!” I call out, jogging towards him.
The way he stops has my stomach bottoming out. It’s my gut warning me that something is about to come my way, and it makes my steps falter and slow.
His tall frame slowly starts to turn towards me, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he grinds it together. “Lieutenant,” he corrects.
One word has me wincing like I’ve taken a punch to the kidney.
Nate doesn’t pull rank. With me he never has to.
He’s well respected by everyone subordinate to him.
When we’re on a scene it’s always Lieutenant, but when we’re in the firehouse, and especially when it’s just the two of us, I’ve never addressed him as such.
Fuck. Things between us are not good.
“Lieutenant,” I correct with a bobbing of my Adam’s apple as I swallow the lump in my throat. “You missed giving me an assignment.”
Nate’s stance widens, and he clasps his tablet in front of him. Narrow blue eyes sweep over me with disdain. “You seemed rather preoccupied, Liam. Perhaps you should take the time, while everyone around you is working, to sort through your distraction.”
I blink rapidly at him. Okay, sure, I was lost in my thoughts.
I can admit it—I fucked up. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.
I should have been paying attention, and I wasn’t.
I shouldn’t have fucked his sister, and I did.
He’s mad. I get it. We all get it. But that’s no reason to sideline me from helping everyone.
“I’m fine. I can help. Why don’t I help Hailey with the kitchen?” I ask, pointing a thumb over my shoulder in that direction. “Or I could do the mirrors and floors in the gym.”
“Hailey is just fine,” Nate says brusquely. “Brody has the gym covered.”
“I’ll help Quinn with the bathrooms then.
” My instinct is to turn back the way I came from, to head in that direction and away from Nate’s impenetrable stare.
While I know he’s pissed at the moment, I can’t read anything else about him which is unusual and making me uncomfortable.
I stand my ground, though, remaining unmoving.
“No one needs help, Liam. They need you to get your head in the game. Your assignment is to figure it out,” Nate barks at me. Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and rounds the corner, more than likely heading to his small office.
“Fucking hell.” The sound reverberates around the now empty hallway, and I blow out a gust of air that rattles my lips.
Giving my face a scrub with my hands, I flip around and head in the direction I came from.
Maybe Nate doesn’t want me helping anyone, but fuck it, I’m going to.
I’m not going to be the only one not doing something.
We’re all a team. A family. What kind of guy would I be if I sat back and let everyone else handle chores, while I laid on the couch and played therapy with myself?
Besides, my thoughts, and being alone with them, do not interest me right now.
Everyone is gone from the meeting room when I go by it, so I keep going, headed to the supply room where we keep the cleaning products.
Except when I get there, every product, broom, mop, and bucket are gone.
There’s not a single thing left to help clean in the entire place, and I search all the shelves, high and low.
I stand back from the shelving unit where things are normally kept and scratch my head.
Even if everyone on shift had something to use, there should still be things left over.
Even that one mop no one likes using because the handle is cracked, but we haven’t gotten rid of it yet cause there’s a guy on C shift who loves it for some godforsaken reason, is gone.
When I take one more long look around the small room—just in case I missed it on the first two sweeps I did—I head back to the hall. The doorway to the bathroom a few feet away is open, and I head there, giving a knock on the door.
“Quinn?” I call out.
There’s a noise of disgust before she pops her head around the corner, a toilet brush in her hand. Today she’s wearing yellow contacts which, if I’m being honest, freak me out a little as they narrow at me. “What?”
“You got an extra rag or bucket? I could do the sinks.”
“The bathrooms are handled, Liam. Go do whatever Nate told you to do.”
A single eyebrow lifts in her direction. “He told me to help you out.”
One side of her lip lifts in scorn as a humorless laugh meets my ear. “He did not.”
“How do you know?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“If you’d been paying any kind of attention in the morning meeting, you’d know. Now go away.”