Adriana
“You asked before — I have four years on fire . . . five? Almost five. Took the test to get off the road.”
“. . . Aren’t we on the road now?”
“I’m the senior shift paramedic, so I train with all the incoming EMTs. I’ll be back on a hybrid fire rotation next month.”
“But why? At least if you’re on the street as a medic, you’re using your training, all of your education. Why would you be willing to just—”
“Because this job is a lot.” His voice held a sharp edge that silenced her. An edge she understood, Adriana thought. For a long, weighted moment, the quiet was a shadow, sitting between them, crowding the center console until Trapp broke it.
“Why did you leave the ED? That’s all you wanted in school.”
She stiffened at the loaded question, shocked that he was directly acknowledging their shared past at all.
Forcing herself to stay impassive, she contemplated her answer.
Because I was drowning. Because it was killing me.
Because some days it felt like it would be easier never to wake up again than to go back in.
“Because that job is a lot.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper.
He nodded, not needing further explanation. Of course he understood.
Neither of them had acknowledged what had happened in the hospital lot.
She didn’t know why she’d done what she did, only knew that she’d been thinking of it most of the day.
It would have been different if she didn’t already know how his cock felt in her mouth, if she didn’t already know the weight of it on her tongue .
. . and then she’d watched him strip his clothes off in the back of the ambulance.
He’d looked outsized in the cramped space, curling to sit on the edge of the narrow bench as he stripped down to his underwear, as if he were trying to make her crazy, doing it intentionally!
Her hands, curled around the edge of her seat, had kept her in the cab, gawking at his exposed flesh.
His straining erection was barely contained, but by then, he’d had nothing on his mind except the accident they were rushing towards, and her control had nearly snapped.
And then she’d watched the helicopter he was in pitch to the side seconds after take-off, nearly rolling in the air as the storm pushed in, and she was convinced she’d never see him again.
It should have been a cheerful thought.
After all, hadn’t she been cursing his name since her very first night in town? Hadn’t he been the thorn in her paw since the first time his ambulance had pulled up to the doors of her clinic? Wasn’t he the reason she was in trouble, her job on the line?
Instead, she’d shrieked, her heart in her throat as they disappeared into the storm.
She’d been glad for a distraction when they’d needed the ambulance, arguing with the captain on scene for only a minute before she was given a waiver to sign, assuming liability for the noncritical patient that was loaded into the rig as Oleg sped them back to Healers.
After that, she’d had nothing to do but wait and think, trapped by her own spiraling anxiety.
With Trapp off the road, his rookie was as well, the lanky troll taking advantage of the break to sleep.
She’d gone home, but sleep was impossible.
It occurred to her at length that he would be stuck at the hospital, his ambulance back at the station, Oleg asleep, and that it made complete sense for her to return to the station, rifle through his bag until she found his keys, and take his truck.
That she’d managed to ignore the intrusive thought suggesting she use the keys to explore his home while she waited was a win.
And then he was there, alive, looking no worse for wear as he strode through the ambulance bay, laughing indignantly over her minor GTA, and sucking his cock had felt like a natural and necessary progression of the shift.
She still hated him. He was still ruining what was meant to be her new start. She could never become someone brand new if shards of her past popped up several times a week . . . but the notion that she’d not see him again, now that she knew he existed here, had left her frantic.
Afterward, she’d returned to the station in his borrowed truck, ensuring it was returned to his space, fleeing in her own vehicle before the ambulance returned, but she was too keyed up to even think of resting.
Her townhouse was too empty, her little sloping street silent, and the quiet was intolerable.
Upon her arrival back at the fire station in the morning, she’d been told Trapp was asleep and to make herself comfortable in the dayroom.
Adriana had the distinct feeling the demonborn captain’s smile was a fraction away from being a sneer.
The tiny handful of firefighters awake in the station gave her a wide berth, as if she were a dangerous animal, their heads coming together once they were far enough away, the topic of their whispers clear.
She understood that, too, even as she felt herself shrinking.
She was the outsider, the one who got him in trouble.
Of course they all knew. Everyone knows everything in this fucking town.
Why did you think this would be any different?
It was a relief when Oleg had come through the doors, shoveling food in his mouth from a styrofoam takeout container.
“He’s trying to get some sleep while he can, but we’ll get something soon. Morning rush-hour is always a mess.”
For the next twenty-eight minutes, she listened to the troll chatter about his fiancée, who was from Cambric Creek, the small town he’d left that had been nothing but dairy farms, and the fermented fish roll from the dim sum take-out joint on Main Street that she should avoid at all costs.
All the while, her imagination was working overtime, trying to picture him just upstairs, his face soft in sleep.
Trapp’s boots thudded down the concrete steps only minutes before the call came through, putting them back on the road. He didn’t look as if he’d slept a wink, but she kept it to herself.
They’d barely spoken since. Until now.
“The ED has the highest rate of burnout,” she laughed weakly, trying to force her face into her practiced coffee shop smile and failing utterly. “I’m just keeping to statistics, I guess.”
He snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it. Our burnout numbers aren’t as high, but that’s only because most EMTs can’t afford to quit.
Our rate of PTSD is almost double. Moving to fire meant a better paycheck and better job security.
Departments love it when you’re cross-certified; that’s one less paycheck on the roster.
That’s why you’re going to knuckle down and start your medic training ASAP,” Trapp directed into the rearview mirror, his words meant for the troll in the back.
“And then don’t fuck around prepping for the fire test .
. . anyway, fire doesn’t see half the shit we do on the road. ”
“Oh, you have no idea what we would deal with in the ED.”
She felt her hackles rise when he snorted derisively, turning his head just long enough to scowl.
They were too close to the moon for her to deal with his shitty looks, and she would bite him the instant she had the chance if he wasn’t careful.
You should have bitten his dick when you had the chance.
Care for a mid-shift circumcision, Trapp?
“Why am I not surprised you’ve got to make it a competition?”
“I’m serious,” she shot back, seething at his expression. “The most gruesome things would come through our doors, foreign objects, accidents with kids, and I would only have a few minutes to—”
“Yeah, and who do you think scraped those gruesome cases off the street to deliver to you? We get the same shit, fresh, as it’s happening.
No guardrails, no security. If your scene isn’t secure, you might wind up with a dirty needle stick or a bullet through your gut.
You think you’re traumatized seeing the kids coming in on stretchers? Try being first on the scene.”
“Maybe,” Oleg’s disembodied voice came from the rear, “we can all agree that dead bodies suck, no matter the circumstances.”
Trapp snorted again but said nothing more, letting the troll’s sentiment be the final word.
“Do you get the ‘what’s the worst thing?’ question?” she asked after a moment. “It makes me crazy.”
“Oh, the first fucking thing anyone asks,” Trapp agreed.
“The second they find out you’re EMS, they’re asking you to relive the most traumatic scene you’ve ever witnessed for their amusement, like it’s a fun little story.
That’s why I don’t tell anyone I’m a medic anymore.
I’m a fireman, the end. Go bother someone else with your ghoulish questions. ”
“Great,” Oleg mumbled. “Something to look forward to.”
“Sorry,” Adriana laughed, “but yeah, you do.” It was an odd camaraderie, but she didn’t have a better name for it.
“You need to get ready for that, Rookie,” Trapp directed to the back. “And when they ask, which they will, you tell them it was the time you fucked their mother. That usually shuts them up.”
Adriana nearly choked on the sip of lukewarm station coffee she’d just taken, gasping as it went down the wrong way, her shoulder shaking in laughter. “You do not say that.”
“Oh, I absolutely do. Try me.”
“I need to remember that one. I can’t ever think of zingers like that in the moment,” Oleg huffed, chuckling.
“With my older brothers, I didn’t have a choice. You learn to roast or be roasted. No other options.”
“You were roasted by the mayor?!” the troll gasped, incredulous, and Adriana nearly expired, laughing so hard she was no longer producing sound, wheezing against the door.
Once she’d regained her composure, they drove in what almost felt like companionable silence down the long stretch of highway to the city.