Chapter Twenty-One Still Burning
Chapter twenty-one
Still Burning
Three weeks.
Three bloody weeks stuck in the hospital.
Twenty-one days of doctors with clipped voices, nurses with endless blood pressure cuffs, and Ethan hovering as if physically holding Reece together.
ICU had been bad. Monitors beeping, lights too bright, people whispering as if they were waiting for him to flatline again.
But the ward?
Worse.
Constant noise. Constant fussing. No privacy. No dignity. Bored out of his skull, trapped in a body that ached if he so much as shifted wrong. Reece had never been good at staying still. Even with bruised ribs, burned arms, and lungs dragging like wet rope, stillness made him twitch .
He wanted to go home.
Wanted to see Nana. Maybe watch Countdown with her in the rec room, mug of tea in hand, and show her he hadn’t abandoned her.
He never would. Ethan was visiting her, of course.
At Reece’s demand. But he doubted he was making sure she was comfortable.
Seen. Loved. He was paying lip service, waiting for her to die.
He also wanted to get back to work, to the crew, to the adrenaline and chaos.
But most of all?
He wanted to hold Trent.
That part hurt the worst.
They’d had moments. Soft, stolen ones. A kiss, now that the oxygen mask was off.
A quiet hand held under the covers. Trent, ever the paramedic, had redressed his wounds with a tenderness Reece hadn’t known how to respond to.
And Trent checked his obs as if he didn’t trust the machines and Reece might slip away again if he so much as blinked too long.
I won’t, he wanted to say. Not now. Not while you’re still here.
Because that was the thing, wasn’t it?
Trent had already brought him back once.
Physically. Metaphorically. Maybe even emotionally.
And Reece wanted him. All of him.
He wanted to pull Trent against him, slide inside him, hold him tight to his chest and whisper every filthy, reverent thing he’d never said aloud. Wanted to tell him he was beautiful. That he was strong. That, yeah, he fucking loved him.
Jesus .
Was he high?
He checked the IV stand. Nope. Nothing hooked up anymore.
He was off the meds now. Had asked for that himself.
Didn’t want pills hanging around at home.
Not with Trent nearby. Although he’d promised.
Sworn he wouldn’t go near that edge again.
But Reece knew how addiction worked. It wasn’t a promise and poof, it vanished.
It was a daily battle. A war fought in silence.
And Reece didn’t have a magic dick no matter how much he thought he did.
And even if he did, it wasn’t in action at the moment.
So he’d done the only thing he could. Taken the temptation away.
Even if it meant feeling every bloody thing now.
The ache, the pull, the healing that didn’t happen fast enough.
Because if Trent was going to fight? Then, so was he.
All the more reason for Reece to get out of here.
So when the doctor finally signed him off and Ethan appeared at the end of the bed with a coat in one hand and car keys in the other, Reece was giddy with relief. He couldn’t wait to leave. To breathe outside air. Sleep in his own bed.
There was just one problem.
He had to be wheeled out.
Him .
Big, tattooed, fire-battered Reece Morgan. Carried a kid through fire and smoke, now chauffeured in a hospital-grade wheelchair like a bloody geriatric.
Ethan raised an eyebrow and tapped the padded seat. “Get in.”
“I can walk.”
“They won’t let you leave if you collapse on the way out. Sit down, hero.”
Reece grumbled, but sat. Reluctantly.
As Ethan wheeled him through the ward, the noise started.
First a slow clap, then full-on applause.
Staff. Patients. Even the bloke in bed six who hadn’t said a word in days was nodding as if he’d watched the whole thing on telly.
Reece flushed, sinking lower in the chair.
He hated this. Being looked at like some saint who’d done something extraordinary.
He hadn’t. He’d done his job.
…Okay, maybe more than that.
Trent had filled him in once he was lucid enough to take it in.
Told him how Alfie and Jude had nearly died, how Reece shoving the last functioning breathing mask at Jude and him staying behind in a corridor thick with smoke until the roof gave way, had enabled Jude to drag Alfie out by the arm, half-blind, half-conscious, refusing to let go.
The pair of them had been treated for severe smoke inhalation, but they’d made it out. They were okay.
Back home now. Alfie still quiet. Jude shaken. But alive.
Nathan and Freddie had turned up two days ago with a bunch of grapes big enough to feed a ward and when Nathan had shaken his hand, it meant more than all this noise in the hallway. More than the clapping. More than the nurses calling him brave.
Because what mattered was Alfie still had a future.
And Trent had fought hard enough to still be in his.
Ethan wheeled him out to the front of the hospital, where his sleek black Audi sat like it didn’t belong among the battered Peugeots and faded hatchbacks.
Reece eyed it with mild contempt before awkwardly lowering himself into the passenger seat, wincing as his ribs pulled, then adjusted the seat back, giving himself the maximum legroom.
Ethan folded the wheelchair, handing it back to reception, then climbed into the driver’s seat.
“You didn’t have to pick me up,” Reece said as the engine purred to life. “One of the lads from the station would’ve done it. ”
“I’m your brother, Reece.” Ethan eased them out of the car park.
Reece stared out the window, silence stretching taut between them as the town moved past in streaks of glass and grey. But he couldn’t stay quiet for long.
“So this is what enabling Radley’s empire gets you, huh?” He nodded towards the leather trim and polished dash. “Nice car.”
“Please don’t.” Ethan gripped the steering wheel. “We’ve made it three weeks without a fight. Let’s not start now.”
“A fight? It’s not a fight, Ethan. It’s bad blood. And it’s been there a long time.”
“I understand you’re upset—”
“Upset?” Reece barked a bitter laugh. “I’m fucking furious . Livid. You’re driving your brother home from hospital today, Ethan. Your twin brother who nearly died. Who stopped breathing because someone set a school on fire as part of some sick game for the people you defend.”
“There is no proof Radley was behind that.” The crack in Ethan’s voice betrayed the conviction of his words.
“Don’t insult me.”
“A kid in the school started it.”
Reece snorted. “The kid who lit that fire didn’t do it for fun. He was scared. Manipulated. Part of something bigger. And you know it.”
Ethan stared straight ahead. “There’s no direct evidence. The statement from the boy who turned informant places blame on a lower-level associate. Nothing ties it legally to Radley.”
“No, of course it doesn’t,” Reece shot back. “Because that’s how men like Radley work. He’s not the one lighting the matches. Oh, no. Won’t get his hands dirty. But he’s giving them out behind closed doors. And you—you’re the one defending him while he burns this town to ash.”
“You think I know the full extent of what he’s doing?” Ethan snapped, finally turning to him. “I don’t. But I know the law. And unless something concrete lands on my desk, I can’t act on hearsay and suspicion.”
Reece stared at him, eyes burning.
“You think you’re defending a man who bends tax codes and makes shady donations to keep himself off the radar?” Reece shook his head. “But the truth is, he’s a parasite. He’s dug into the underbelly of this place— our home —and he’s draining the life out of it.”
“Our home wasn’t a safe place for us as children, either.”
“That’s not the same thing. What Dad did to us was its own hell. But Radley’s building an empire of fear. Drugs. Exploited kids. You think this is where it stops?”
Ethan’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
“If you knew,” Reece said softly, “really knew what Radley was capable of, you’d walk away. Wouldn’t you?”
Ethan’s silence spoke louder than any answer could.
Finally, he sighed. “I’m not stupid, Reece. I see things. I hear things. But this is my job. It’s what I’m paid for.”
“You can walk away. Not take his case. His blood money.”
Ethan gripped the steering wheel. “And what do you think he’ll do if I did that?”
Reece stared out the window, heart heavier than it had been all day. “Then maybe it’s time the law started catching up.”
Ethan didn’t argue this time. “Maybe you’re right.”
The rest of the drive passed in silence, thick and loaded, but Reece didn’t mind.
It was the first silence that didn’t feel like punishment.
Just two brothers caught on opposite ends of a war neither of them started.
It reminded him of being kids again. When one of them bore the bruises from their dad’s fists and the other brought biscuits from Nana’s tin, both knowing the cost of kindness, both pretending not to feel the weight of it.
They didn’t speak.
They didn’t have to.
But when they turned onto Nana’s road, and Reece saw the figure waiting by the front gate, that weight lifted.
Trent .
Still in his greens, boots dusty, med bag slung over one shoulder, with his blond hair glinting in the afternoon light, he was a sight for sore eyes. And ribs.
“Fuck.” Reece couldn’t stop the smile dragging up the corners of his mouth as he drank Trent in, letting himself live the moment of that man, right there, waiting for him.
Ethan glanced at him, a knowing tilt to his head. “You like him.”
“Yeah.” Reece gripped the door handle. “He’s the reason I’m still breathing.”
“I know,” Ethan said quietly. “And I’ve told him. But maybe you should tell him too.”
Reece didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.