Chapter Eighteen Hold the Line
Chapter eighteen
Hold the Line
Trent woke in Reece’s bed on the morning of his first day back on rota, which said everything. In such a short span of time, Reece had become the anchor he hadn’t known he’d needed. Someone steady to cling to when everything else felt like it might slip.
Which today, it might.
Because today, he went back.
Back into the uniform. Onto the floor.
To the place where the rhythm of emergencies usually dulled the rest of his life. Until it didn’t. Until it cracked him open and left him shaking in the aftermath that followed.
The last couple of days had passed in a blur of calm and almost-normal.
Reece met Jamie.
Trent had worried at first. About how either of them would handle it. But he needn’t have. As soon as Reece had turned up on his Triumph, Jamie’s eyes had lit up and it was as though Trent wasn’t even there at all.
“Is it a triple engine?” Jamie had asked without preamble.
“Inline three. Want me to show you the rebuild pics?”
And that had been that. They’d taken off, talking crankshafts, exhaust setups, and heritage models.
By the time they’d said their goodbyes, Reece had explained why he was so at ease around Jamie.
In his early twenties, he’d dated a woman with a child on the spectrum.
It was yet another revelation about Reece Morgan Trent hadn’t seen coming.
That he’d once been, in a way, a stepfather to a kid with special needs.
“She was a bit of a dominatrix, too,” Reece had admitted without a flicker of shame. “Liked tying me up, doing whatever she wanted. Taught me a lot.”
It was then Trent realised there was far more to Reece Morgan than he’d bargained for.
That he could be… submissive. And that his last serious relationship after Caris had been when he’d hit thirty, with a bloke called Ian, a pharmacist. Which explained Reece’s easy familiarity with Tramadol’s side effects and its addictive pull.
Ian had broken Reece’s heart when he’d accepted a position with a big pharmaceutical company in Bristol.
He’d asked Reece to go with him, but Reece had been too rooted here, too ingrained in the fire and rescue service and far too loyal to his Nana.
After that, Reece had drifted. Coasted. Until Trent .
And that thought sent an unsteady warmth fluttering through him.
On Sunday Reece had a frontline five-a-side match.
Trent and Jamie went along. Watched in the stands.
And cheered him on as the RNLI lads scored goal after goal.
Then after dropping Jamie off, Reece had brought Trent home, cooked him a full on roast and told him to stay the night before his first day back on rota.
Maybe it had been to keep him from reaching for something else before his boots even touched the ambulance bay.
But Trent hadn’t needed convincing. He wanted to stay.
Reece had become his fix in the gentlest, most dangerous way.
The thing he reached for when he didn’t know what else would work.
And now, with them both heading back to the job, the thought of Reece not being within arm’s reach left a hollow ache in his chest.
He sat up, stomach twisting with nerves.
The sheets rustled behind him, then a strong arm curled around his waist. Solid, inked, and grounding.
“You’re thinking too loud again.” Reece pressed a soft kiss to Trent’s shoulder.
Trent huffed a quiet laugh. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” Reece kissed his shoulder again, almost as if he couldn’t bear not to. “Been awake a while. I also think too loudly sometimes, too.”
Trent looked back at him. “Let’s get it over with then.”
Reece nodded. And they went through the motions of the morning muted.
They stepped into the shower together, steam curling around them as water beat down.
Reece moved his hands with purpose. Slick with gel, he wrapped one around Trent’s cock, sliding the other between his cheeks, fingers teasing, pressing, easing the tension from his body.
Trent leant into it, gasping against his shoulder, surrendering to the care woven into every touch.
And when Reece needed him in return, Trent dropped to his knees in the rising heat, wrapped his mouth around him, giving back as much as he’d taken.
But as they pulled on their service gear, Trent paused.
“Do you… think they’ll put me straight back out?” Trent couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Reece’s eyes. “I’ve not heard from my supervisor. Only the rota.”
Reece smoothed down Trent’s collar. “If they’ve done it by the book, you’ll have a return-to-duty meeting first. Light shift. Probably paired with someone experienced, who won’t let you take the weight alone.”
Trent nodded. That sounded right.
But he wasn’t sure his body would remember how to move when the first shout came in.
Reece drove him into work on the back of the bike, sparing him the humiliation of determining which bus to get to the hospital from his place.
But mostly, Trent knew, it was to ensure he actually got there.
The coastal road blurred past, all soft blues and shifting sunlight, and when he pulled into the hospital car park, Reece put the bike into neutral.
Trent removed his helmet, handed it to Reece and made to get off, but Reece stopped him with a hand on his thigh.
“You’re not alone in this, yeah?” he said, and Trent could feel the burn of those green eyes behind his visor. “You freeze, you shake, you need a second, you take it. That doesn’t make you broken. That makes you human. You’re not a superhero.”
“I’m not? Everyone says we are.”
Reece breathed out a laugh. “Let the civvies think you are. I’ll be the one holding you when your cape gives out.”
Trent smiled. Now that sounded…damn good.
“Now go make a bunch of terrified junior doctors fall in love with you. ”
Trent rolled his eyes. “Guess I’ll see you out there.”
“I hope you won’t.”
With that, Reece revved the engine and pulled away, leaving behind the low growl of his bike and a faint trail of dust. Trent stood there a moment longer, watching him go, until he was nothing but a flicker disappearing around the bend.
Then he inhaled deep, squared his shoulders, and turned towards the staff entrance.
The ambulance bay doors buzzed open with a familiar click, and Trent stepped through, flashing his ID at the front desk. The receptionist looked up, nodded him through. Business as usual.
Inside, it smelt exactly the same.
Antiseptic. Burnt coffee. A haze of exhaustion baked into the walls. A scent that never left, layering itself over yesterday and the day before. And somehow, that made it easier. Easier to keep walking forward. Into the familiar.
He made his way to the locker room. Still grimy around the edges, echoing with early-morning rustle and chatter. A couple of crews were getting changed. Quiet nods exchanged, nothing more. No questions. No fuss.
It was… normal.
Why had he thought it would be any different?
He knew how to do this. How to be here. He’d trained for this. Put in the hours. Earned the stripes. He was a damn good paramedic.
So what if he’d made one mistake?
It wasn’t catastrophic. The man hadn’t died because of something he’d done wrong .
If anything, he’d tried too hard to save him.
That’s what people would remember. Not the shaking hands.
The tightness in his chest. How he’d nearly drowned in it.
They’d remember that he kept going. That he showed up. That he could cope.
…Wouldn’t they ?
He changed on autopilot. Dark green ambulance-issue shirt, hi-vis piping along the shoulders.
Matching green cargo trousers. Black safety boots, scuffed but serviceable, fleeced green jacket, lightweight but warm, the NHS crest stitched above the heart.
His stab vest sat on the bench beside him.
He left it for now. That came later. Once he knew what shift he was stepping into.
A soft knock on the doorframe drew his gaze.
“Trent.” Karen, the duty manager. “Welcome back. Can I grab you for five minutes?”
He nodded, heartbeat kicking up. “Yeah. Sure.”
The return-to-work chat. Of course.
He followed her down the hall to a small side office
“How are you feeling?” she asked, sitting behind a desk.
He didn’t lie. Not entirely. “Tired. A bit wired. But I want to be here.”
Karen nodded, scribbling a note on her clipboard. “You’re on light duties today. Non-emergency transfers, community checks, that kind of thing. Easing you back in gently.” She smiled. “You’re with Liv again. We kept you together since… well, she knows.”
Relief spread through his chest, warm and low. “Thanks.”
She gave him a look. Firm but kind. “Don’t push it. One call at a time. One shift at a time.”
“I will.”
She tilted her neck. “And listen… you know there’s counselling available, right? It’s not a weakness. I go. So do most of the team, more than you probably realise. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who’s not in the thick of it.”
Trent nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I will.”
And he meant it .
Maybe not all of it.
He wouldn’t be able to mention the pills. That part had to stay buried. Because in the NHS, it didn’t matter how bad things got or how trauma twisted your coping instincts, admit to that, and you were gone. Struck off. No discussion. No grace.
That was the trap.
So he kept it to himself. Filed it away.
He didn’t plan on taking any more, anyway.
At least, that’s what he told himself. Because he had Reece to help him through it now.
Especially as Reece had said he wouldn’t touch him while he was numb and if there was one thing Trent now craved more than pain relief, it was Reece’s hands… mouth…cock.
“Go on, then.” Karen nodded towards the corridor. “Time to get back in the saddle.”