Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kate
Weeks go by as we fall into a pattern of passionate nights and long training days. Vaughn and Gus spend their days working on the farm. Gus doesn’t even bat an eye when he walks in on us kissing one morning in front of the coffeepot.
But the morning of my finals, Vaughn makes me a healthy breakfast that I can’t eat because I’m too nervous. When I admit as much, he hands me a protein bar and watches like a hawk until I finish half.
“I know you’re nervous, but you can’t go into this depleted.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That wasn’t your opinion last night.”
He smirks and whispers “Orgasms are good mojo” right as Gus walks into the room.
“What’s good mojo?” Gus grumbles from the coffeepot, and my cheeks heat.
“Just sending Kate with some before her test today.”
Gus downs half a cup. How in the hell he can do that is beyond me, but the man loves his coffee scalding hot. He’s looking so much better, and it’s so comforting seeing him home and moving around well. “When’ll you know if you passed?”
“The written test is first, and I’m not sure if it’ll take a day or two for those results, or if we’ll know something by the end of the day. But I will know the physical results today because it’ll be pretty obvious.” My nerves ride higher at the thought of failure. The protein bar roils in my gut.
“Hey.” Vaughn’s hand lands on my shoulder, stopping the swirl of thoughts, grounding me. “You’ve trained. You’ve studied. You’re strong, brave, smart. You’ve got this.”
“Damn straight, Katie. Go kick ass.”
Their well-wishes and confidence bolster me through the written exam and again when I’m paired with the asshat, as I suspected I would be.
We have partners we have to run the course with, and he and I have been neck and neck on the trials.
I figured we’d be paired because we tend to push hard to be better than the other.
Cassidy joins me as I grumble over my assignment. At least she got the next smallest recruit. Although she’s been rubbing her arm like it’s bothering her during our warm-ups.
“You okay, Cass?” I ask under my breath. No reason to let anyone imagine a weakness where there might not be one.
Determination flashes in her eyes as she studies the training course.
“I will be once I get to the other side of this.” The training captain calls for us to line up and gives us our final orders.
Despite the chill in the air, it’ll be scorching once we get into the exercise, so I follow Cassidy to strip down to T-shirts.
Something about the way she’s moving catches my attention, though, and I hesitate in pulling off my sweatshirt.
She’s pulling her own off, and the T-shirt underneath gets caught in it and rides up as she pulls the outer layer over her head.
She snatches the hem quickly and pulls the undershirt back down, but not before I catch the dark purple bruising marring her back.
When she gets free of the hoodie, the sleeves of her undershirt are pushed up her arm, revealing long red welts encircling her wrist. It also reveals why she was rubbing it earlier.
“Holy shit, Cass. What the hell happened?”
She gives me a forced laugh. “It’s nothing.
I’m fine, I just took a tumble down the stairs the other day.
Guess that’s what I get for carrying an overloaded laundry basket.
Caught my foot on a loose towel, and down goes Frazier.
” She finishes with a motion like she did a Superman dive, trying to make light of the situation.
I don’t know what the phrase she used means, but I don’t need to because she’s way too nonchalant about it.
Warning bells go off in my head, and all my Spidey senses stand on alert.
I’ve seen too many cases, been on too many domestic abuse calls, to not recognize the boot print on her ribs.
And those marks on her arms look like they were created by hands or a belt.
“Can you even breathe, much less do the course?” From the looks of it, I’d guess at a minimum, she’s got some bruised ribs. But if they’re broken, she could be putting herself in a life-threatening situation, and for what?
“Keep your voice down.”
“No, I’m serious. This is just a step in the process. It’s not worth hurting yourself over. What if you’ve got broken ribs? You could really make a bad situation worse.”
She levels a look at me that has my back straightening in defense.
“Kate. I know you mean well, but leave. It. Alone,” she says through clenched teeth. “Seriously, let it go.”
The training captain comes into the room, forcing me to do just that.
He runs through the expectations of each exercise, explains the obstacle course, reminding us we’re already familiar with the required components.
All the while I try not to look at Cassidy.
I can’t get the image of those bruises out of my mind, and I’m torn between notifying the captain and honoring her request.
Too soon, we’re filing out of the classroom and forming a line at the start of the course.
There are only eight of us remaining out of the original thirty.
I’m not sure if it’s more a testament to the challenging program or the sheer stubbornness of those of us remaining.
What I do know is that we’ve worked damn hard to get here.
It hits me then. After this short exercise, the fate of my future will be determined. The nerves I’ve been trying so hard to ignore burst to life.
I’ll either come out of this a certified firefighter and move up through my department, or I’ll go back to being a medic.
Or maybe I’ll find another career entirely. If I don’t pass this test, I can’t imagine facing all the guys. Can’t imagine how they would respect me if I fail.
A whistle sounds, and the first recruit is off. I’m fifth in line behind Asshat, then Cassidy.
It doesn’t bring me the pleasure like it should that I see Asshat stumbling right at the beginning of his run. He’s a dickhead with a shitty attitude, but at this point, I don’t want any of us to fail. I don’t have to like the guy to want the best for our class.
The training captain starts us in timed intervals, so by the time Asshat is out of sight, it’s Cassidy’s turn.
She moves gingerly through the first rotation, limping with each step, grimacing as she contorts to pull on her bunker gear and breathing apparatus.
She’s torturing herself, possibly injuring herself further, and I find myself holding my breath, wincing along with her.
“Winters. Stop,” Chief Collins calls from the observation deck. Dread washes over me. “Step off the course. Meet me in the office.”
My heart sinks as her shoulders drop and her head falls forward.
But until he’s told her she’s failed or he’s pulling her from the course, maybe there’s a smidge of hope.
She doesn’t look back as she exits the training field, but I don’t miss the devastation written on her face as she carefully resets her gear. A glance at Chief Collins’s face lets me know he’s also seen something concerning.
“Let’s have a chat, and then we’ll put you back in rotation,” Chief calls as she draws near.
Barely a moment of relief hits before the training captain yells, “Hawthorne.”
I will not vomit. I will not quit. I will not fail.
The whistle cuts through my inner mantra. I don’t think. I just step forward into my bunker gear, being as smooth as possible through the transition of sliding the pants up, pulling the coat on, settling a mask on my face, and getting my airflow going.
Cal and Jackson have timed me countless times, challenged me until I could meet the time requirement, then pushed me until the process didn’t even require thought and became muscle memory.
The next rotation is to step to the hose and listen to my radio that I’ve somehow forgotten to turn on. Shit. Not so autopilot, I guess.
I quickly rectify my mistake and progress. My heart is already thundering in my chest.
The captain calls the spray patterns to perform. I imagine it’s Vaughn’s family on the other side, and I see the teenage boy waiting for his parents to be saved. I imagine I’ve got personnel whose lives are on the line if not for me and this hose.
And then it’s to the Jaws of Life station, and I imagine that it’s Cal’s niece stuck in a car, strapped into her car seat, and the only way to get her out is for me and this tool to open an access point so we can remove her from the crushed and mangled vehicle.
Through every checkpoint and every exercise, I picture the person whose life will be impacted if I fail. It drives me. My motions are confident and swift. My decisions are quick.
I don’t second-guess. I don’t stutter or overthink or doubt myself. Just like on a medical call, I fall back to the routine steps I’ve practiced a hundred times or more.
My sole focus is on the radio at my shoulder giving instructions and completing the next task.
And then I reach the downed firefighter station, and I imagine that it’s Cassidy. And her life depends on me successfully dragging her one hundred feet to safety.
It doesn’t matter that this doll weighs more than I do, I will not let Cassidy down.
I get the weighted doll to the designated point, then run through a series of ladder drills and footwork, all while wearing my SCBA. This time, the extra fifty pounds doesn’t feel quite so heavy, and I’ve managed to complete my run, even if it felt slow.
The finish line looms ahead, and on the other side, my recruit mates wait with lifted arms, ready to dole out congratulations and high fives. Except for one, because Cassidy isn’t here yet.
I strip my mask off to catch my breath, knowing I kicked ass on this test, and the swell of pride can’t be contained.
Especially when the guy monitoring the finish line gives me a thumbs-up.
The familiarity of it is jarring, and I take a harder look and realize it’s Jackson, and the guy recording times in the official record is Cal.
It’s not their shift.
They shouldn’t be here.
But they are, and somehow, I know they’re here for me.
Love for these two hose-dragging knuckleheads swells in my chest.
And then I spot the ambulance on standby for emergencies. The morning sunlight glints off the slight dent along the top. I remember when the crossbar at the children’s hospital security gate failed and made that dent.
Ankles crossed, Leo is propped against the ambulance I’ve spent countless shifts in. He sends me a chin nod, about the most I can ever expect from him, and it feels like a hug.
No matter what happens, if I pass or fail, though that would suck, I’ll come out a winner. Because I’ve got Gus and Vaughn at home, ready to support me, and these guys showing up on what could be a bad day.
Maybe I do have a family of my own after all.