Chapter Eighteen Hold the Line #2
Trent managed a small smile then stepped out into the hallway, his uniform strangely comforting as his boots struck familiar rhythms along the tile. One foot in front of the other. Steady. Instinctual.
The large roller door at the end was open, letting in the sharp bite of morning air. And there, parked outside on the yellow lines, the rig waited. Clean, stocked, idle. And Liv leant against the rear doors, takeaway coffee in hand, hi-vis jacket half-zipped, smile wide enough to warm his chest.
“Look who’s back,” she sang with a wriggle of her shoulders. “Welcome home, handsome. Ready for a boring one?”
God, he hoped so.
“Love a boring one.” He climbed into the passenger side.
“Good.” She rounded to the driver’s side. “First up, routine transport to St. Joseph’s, then a couple of community falls checks. Should be a calm one unless the universe decides to be a dick.”
Trent chuckled under his breath as he pulled on his seatbelt, scanning the MDT screen as it flickered to life. “The universe always decides to be a dick.”
“Ha. Truth.” She pulled out of the bay, flicking on the wipers as a drizzle began to spit across the windscreen. Then, with a sideways glance and a nudge of her elbow, “Speaking of dicks… I hear you’re getting some. Prime. Hot. Fireman-grade.”
Trent shot her a look, heat rising to his cheeks. “Who told you?”
“Only the entire RNLI crew. After I drank them under the table at wing night. Loose tongues, looser trousers. Top-tier gossip.”
Trent groaned. “Brilliant. So everyone knows.”
“Oh, come on. Nothing stays secret on the front line.” She flicked on the radio. A second later, Nelly’s Hot in Herre burst through the speakers, courtesy of her Bluetooth playlist.
Liv sang along without shame.
Trent laughed, the smile pulling easier than it had in days.
Yeah. This was alright.
Back in the rig. Back where things made sense.
* * * *
Reece rolled into Worthbridge Fire Station with minutes to spare. He cut the engine and swung off the bike, tucking his helmet under his arm, the morning sun already warming the back of his neck.
Inside the appliance bay, the crew were in the thick of morning checks. Boots scuffing concrete, hoses rolled and re-rolled, radios crackling through speaker tests. Familiar noise settling straight into his bones.
“Bloody hell.” Reece tossed his helmet into the gear cage. “Look who’s back from the land of soft food and sympathy cards.”
Ben Miller grinned from where he stood by the whiteboard, clipboard in hand and one arm favouring the shoulder he’d broken during the warehouse fall. “What can I say? Light duties suit me. I get to look important without doing much.”
“You’re a walking health and safety leaflet.”
“Better that than a lovesick teenager.”
Reece paused mid-zip on his station shirt. “What?”
“Oh, come on!” Ben laughed. “Whole watch saw our favourite paramedic riding pillion with you at the five-a-side.”
From across the bay, Ahmed chimed in, voice raised for maximum impact. “He even kissed him on the bloody cheek before he got on the pitch! Reece blushed , lads. I didn’t think he could .”
“I did not…” Reece could feel himself going red then.
“You did .” Steph emerged from the locker room with a cup of tea and a grin. “Looked like a bloody rom-com. Add some slow-mo wind in the hair and Ed Sheeran in the background, it’d be a music video for a ballad banger.”
“Piss off.” Reece tugged on his turnout trousers, trying, and failing, to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “You lot are so repressed it’s tragic. What is it? Married life got you thinking affection’s a mortal sin? Blink twice if you’ve forgotten how to feel feelings.”
“ Us repressed?” Miller snorted. “Mate, you were emotionally constipated for years . Now you’ve let him ride your bike and seen your Spotify history and suddenly you’re Gandhi with a fade? ”
Reece smirked, grabbing his gloves. “Jealousy’s a bad look on you, Miller. But if you want a cuddle and a playlist to bring out those tears, you only have to ask.”
“Only if it’s got S Club 7 and you stroke my hair while we talk about our dads.”
“You lot need hobbies.”
“We’ve got one. It’s winding you up.”
Reece flipped them off then finished lacing his boots, a grin threatening the corners of his mouth. It felt good. Banter. Solid ground. Miller back on site. Even if Trent wasn’t at his side, the warmth lingered.
But as with all good things…
The tones dropped.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. PRIORITY ONE. STRUCTURE FIRE. PERSONS REPORTED. WORTHbrIDGE ACADEMY. MULTIPLE CALLS. ALL APPLIANCES RESPOND.
Gear hit bodies fast. Helmets, gloves, tunics zipped up. Reece yanked on his BA kit, checking cylinder pressure, clipping in regulators, heartbeat not even having time to spike. It knew .
“Science block,” Ahmed called as he climbed into the cab. “Top floor. Roof smoke logged. Reports say three students unaccounted for. We’re first appliance in. Reece, you’re with me. Primary search.”
“Got it.” Reece leapt into the back.
As the pump tore out of the station, lights flaring and sirens splitting the morning quiet, Reece caught sight of Miller by the bay doors. He didn’t shout, there’d be no point with all the commotion. So he mouthed the words through the chaos, his meaning clear in every line of his face .
“Stay safe, yeah? No fucking heroics.” A pause. Then, with a tilt of his head and a look Reece couldn’t mistake, “You got someone to come home to now.”
Reece gave a tight nod, then turned his focus forward.
He zipped his tunic up tight, buckled his helmet strap, checked the pressure on his BA cylinder, and clipped on the thermal imaging camera as the cab beneath him vibrated with urgency.
His gloves followed. Everything methodical.
Fast. Hands steady. Mind locked in. No one spoke.
Breath and movement. That’s all. The electric stillness before everything went to hell.
Then they turned into the main drive of Worthbridge Academy and chaos swallowed them whole.
The fire was everywhere. Thick black smoke poured from third-floor windows, curling skyward like a scream.
Flames snapped through shattered glass, the top corner of the science block partially collapsed.
The air tasted of burning plastic, scorched metal, and fear .
Dozens of students scrambled across the playing field in waves. Some sobbing, others frozen. Teachers corralled them towards the far fence, shouting names over the rising panic. Paper registers flapped in trembling hands. One teacher collapsed to their knees in the grass.
Ahmed was out of the cab before the handbrake fully engaged. “Reece! TIC. Full BA. You’re with me. Steph, Rob! Hoses laid out, hydrant tapped now .”
The team scattered.
Ahmed was already establishing command. He grabbed the incident tabard and threw it over his tunic, then made a beeline for the nearest teacher trying to hold the evacuation lines. “Who’s in charge here?”
A woman, smeared in soot and a high-vis vest turned towards him. “I’m the Head. Mrs Turner. I…I’ve been tr ying to get the count. Some students…” she broke off, gesturing helplessly towards the building.
“Anyone missing?” Reece stepped in beside Ahmed.
Her lips trembled. “Yes. I—I think so. We’re missing at least three students from Year Ten science. They haven’t reported to the muster point. And the teacher who had them. Mr Ellison. Jude. We can’t find him either.”
Ahmed turned to Reece. “You heard her. Third floor. Science block. Unaccounted: three students, one adult.”
“Got it.”
Jude . The name hit hard.
He knew him. Freddie had dated him for a while, after they’d broken their friends with benefits off for good. Quiet guy. Kind. Thoughtful. The kind who brought tea with biscuits and remembered birthdays. Definitely not someone who belonged trapped inside a burning building about to blow.
Ahmed grabbed the site map from her clipboard. “We’ll begin a left-hand pattern search on the top floor. Two BA teams inside. Get the others on arrival to start external suppression.”
Reece was about to put on his BA kit when yelling from the edge of the field caught his attention. Police had arrived, with one officer breaking through the barrier.
Freddie .
But even though Freddie was in full uniform Reece could see the panic instantly. He wasn’t in job mode. More evident when another voice, raw and breaking, trailed behind him.
“ Where is he?! Where’s Alfie?! ”
Nathan tore through the police cordon, scanning the smoke-choked building with the panicked urgency of a man ready to charge straight into hell. His chest heaved, fists clenched, barely holding himself together .
Freddie was on him in seconds, wrapping his arms around his middle, trying to drag him back. “Nate—I said wait! You can’t go in there!”
“ Alfie’s in there ! ” Nathan roared, voice shredding on the words. “He texted me. He’s trapped. My son is in that block, Fred!”
“You can’t go in, Nate. You can’t!” Freddie’s voice cracked as he shoved him with everything he had. “You’re not geared up. You’ll get yourself killed!”
Nathan wasn’t listening. Couldn’t . Soldier’s body, father’s panic.
But Freddie was trying to hold back a landslide as Nathan’s boots dug into the field, fighting Freddie’s grip as if instinct alone could punch through fire and concrete.
Nothing else mattered. Not logic. Not safety.
And Freddie, torn between the officer he was and the man who loved him, held on anyway, arms shaking with the effort, voice breaking through the rising noise.
“Please, baby, please .” Freddie grabbed Nathan’s face, forcing him to look away from the fire. “Don’t make me fucking arrest you.”
Nathan clutched Freddie’s duty belt, dragging him closer as if grounding himself in the only thing keeping him from running straight into the flames.
That image alone stopped Reece cold. He’d seen fear before.
Rage, too. But this was different. This was two men holding each other back from the cliff edge. Survival by inches.