Chapter 14
Wyatt
Flames surge out of the structure. It stands across the field, right on the outskirts of a wooded area that also appears to be ablaze.
The truck screams across the field, Liam at the helm, Nate sitting beside him.
Luke is handling the brush truck following us, a vehicle well equipped for these kinds of calls, and off-road terrain.
“Dalton, you’re on the hose,” Nate calls into the back.
My heart skips four beats. Fuck. It’s not like it’s my first time on the hose, I worked it at Station Six multiple times, plus back home in Montana as a junior firefighter. But it’s the first time with my new crew, and of course it’s fresh off my dad’s voicemail.
I am cut out for this. I can do this.
“Nate,” Brody mutters, but it’s loud enough for me to hear.
“James,” Nate says, calling Brody by his last name, “you’re behind him.”
Brody scoffs in the seat next to me. “Luke and I can handle it.”
He doesn’t trust me yet. I get it. But I’m not going to be able to prove myself if he doesn’t give me a chance.
Nate doesn’t bother answering as the truck comes to a stop where he directs it. Brody and I are out in a second, and I’m hauling ass to pull the line from the truck. Brody is already there, reaching for a nozzle before he thrusts it towards me, meeting my eyes.
“Don’t fuck this up, kid.”
No shit.
Every first-day nerve comes racing to the surface and that voicemail rings in my ears. Forcing air into my lungs to keep the adrenaline pumping but controlled, I refuse to let the nerves or my father win. Not right now.
Taking the hose, I race towards the structure, IDLH running through my head. Immediate danger to life or health. We have no idea if there’s anyone inside that building.
I’m on a knee, hose aimed, ready to go when I shout behind me, “Water!”
Brody isn’t far behind and yells back at the truck. A second later the line is charged, and I’m opening the nozzle, the pressure of the water jostling my body even though I’m braced.
Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up.
The words are like an old school disc skipping in my mind, replaying over and over. It’s the only thought in, the only one out. The only thing that counts in this moment as I fuck this fire up.
“To the left,” Brody calls from behind me and I automatically follow his instructions.
Smoke billows out of the roof, out the doorway, the smell of burning wood mixing with the fresh air around us. With every second the water is on the fire, the less orange and more grey-black there is. It’s like Heaven to a firefighter.
“Advance,” Brody’s deep voice bellows in my ear. Closer than before.
Again, I work on autopilot, getting up, adjusting my stance and grip on the nozzle, then moving forward, the heat pushing in against my gear.
Training kicks in, and I move the water spray to the door of the shed-type structure, attacking the remaining flames I see trying to find life in air too thick for oxygen.
With every flame I defeat, I advance towards the structure, closer to the doorway.
The flames have eaten through the roof, so I keep some distance, knowing it’ll cave in, any second.
“Dalton, tree line,” Brody calls when the structure looks relatively knocked down.
Luke has been working it with the brush truck, but I turn to put water on the remaining flames I see.
“Move right.”
Doing as he says, I take a few steps to my right, eyes adjusting to the foliage that’s lit up.
Not as bad as the structure, but if we hadn’t gotten here when we did, it wouldn’t have been long before things were a lot worse.
I get the worst of it, flames turning into smoke, Luke working to my left on another section.
The flood of adrenaline that spiked when we first got here has settled out into a steady rhythm in my veins, my heart rate evening out, and I feel like I’ve found my groove with this fire. Defeat is imminent.
A step to the left, moving towards the structure, disaster strikes. One second I’m on my feet, the next I’m hitting the ground on my left side, my arm and shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. I’ve tripped over my own feet.
The hose nearly slips from my grip, but I tighten my right arm around it, rolling as the pressure of it knocks me around now that I’m not braced and ready for it. The damn thing is like wrestling a snake trying to slither back and forth to get away.
Water arcs through the air as I struggle to close the nozzle and shut off the supply. Shouting erupts around me as I roll again with the line, dropping my weight on top of it, finally getting the thing closed.
“What the fuck, Dalton!” Brody thunders from right behind me.
I definitely fucked up.
There’s no time to think about it, though.
There’s still a job to do, and I jump to my feet, opening the water supply back up.
If Brody was grumpy before, he’s livid now.
He barks commands at me. Most of the fire is already out, and within five minutes we knock out the rest. I didn’t dare look behind me in that time, but when I finally turn the water off and look at Brody, then at Nate and Liam, I cringe.
All three of them are dripping wet.
Brody doesn’t need to say a word. His glowering eyes tell me everything I need to know.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead where I stand.
It’s intense enough that I look away, but Liam doesn’t look happy, either.
That could be because he seems to have gotten the worst of it, wearing his uniform and none of his bunker gear while he manned the engine.
His Santa Rosé Fire t-shirt clings to him.
“Let’s get this cleaned up and finished,” Nate calls out. “Keep it going, boys.” His eyes land on me. “We’ll talk about it after.”
Nerves shoot through me, but I nod and start the task assigned as Luke sidles up to me. “Look on the bright side… you definitely know how to make ‘em wet.”
Fuck me. These assholes are never going to let me live this down.
“Nate, I’m telling you, it’s the same guy,” Brody says after we’ve cleaned up and are back in service at the station.
The fire had been deliberately set, that much was clear before we’d finished making sure all the hot spots were out. The lock to the storage shed had been cut and was on the ground, and based on the burn patterns, accelerant had been used inside the structure.
“You don’t have proof of it,” Nate counters, arms folded over his chest, leaning back against the front of the rig.
Brody’s arms lift in exasperation. “The burn pattern along the tree line is the same.”
“But it looked like it started in the shed.”
“A clear escalation,” Brody grounds out, his jaw clenching.
Nate’s arms drop. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but we have to let the fire investigator come in and do their thing. I’ll talk to Tina, mention it.”
“She’ll see it,” Brody mutters, head shaking as he stares out the bay door.
Rather than respond to him, Nate focuses on me. “Good work out there.”
“Minus the shower I didn’t quite need,” Liam adds.
The lieutenant is great at ignoring the extra quips from everyone. “You worked the hose really well.”
“Nothin’ like being able to work a hose,” I say, going for some self-deprecating humor to make them all laugh.
Like two twelve-year-olds, Liam and Luke both chuckle. Even Nate lets a smile crack through. I run a hand along my jawline, giving a shrug. Sure, I may have handled it okay, but I still fucked up, and I can’t help the way my dad’s voice infiltrates my thoughts.
Ready to admit defeat?
You’re no good at the fire thing.
“Yo,” Luke claps me on the shoulder. “We all do stupid stuff. We all have our moments. Don’t worry about it.”
“And don’t worry about the big guy, he’ll get over being sprayed in the face,” Liam smirks.
“Not helpful, Liam,” Nate mutters.
Damn it. I didn’t know I’d gotten him in the face. No wonder he was so pissed. It couldn’t have been a direct hit because that would have hurt like a bitch, but a facial is never pleasant.
Unless it’s asked for.
Then it’s kind of hot.
Bryn’s gorgeous face fills my mind, and I shake my head to push thoughts of that away while I’m standing with the guys.
“I’m sorry for fucking up like that. Sorry for hitting all of you,” I tell them sheepishly, and they all meet my eyes except for Brody. “Despite my dance skills, I had two left feet out there and tripped.”
Luke beams at me, patting me on the shoulder a few times. “Oh, we know. I got it all on video. My helmet cam was recording the whole thing.”
Fuck.
“I bet that would look real good on his socials,” Liam suggests, and the look on Luke’s face says I should be worried. “I’m sure his followers would get a kick out of it.”
“Won’t be hard to get into his phone when he falls asleep one night,” Luke helps lay out the plan. “We can post it before he even suspects a thing.”
Nate shakes his head, then looks directly at me. “They’re assholes, they aren’t cruel. But you might want to sleep with your phone under your pillow.”
While I groan, Luke and Liam howl with laughter.