Chapter 8 Warren
EIGHT
WARREN
FOUR WEEKS LATER
Emergencies don’t adhere to a curfew.
Point proven when I’m jolted awake from my bunk, sirens blaring obnoxiously in my ears.
There’s no thinking required. I’m conditioned to move before my brain knows what’s happening.
Only when my bare feet hit the cold floor do I pause, and the tone continues, not waiting for my brain to catch up to my body.
Bitter realization dawns—this call isn’t for me.
They haven’t been for weeks.
Heavy boots stomp through the corridor as my crew makes their way to the apparatus bay, ready to haul on their gear. Thirty seconds have passed since the alarm first sounded; that’s how quickly we’re trained to move.
Not me. Not today.
I could’ve slept in my bed after finishing my shift three hours ago. Instead, I pretend I’m needed—still a valued member of this firehouse.
One-hundred and four seconds later, the sirens of Engine One echo through the station before slowly fading into the distance.
Perched on the edge of the mattress, I close my eyes, imagining the feel of the thick layers of gear weighing me down and the rumble of the engine vibrating beneath my feet as we make our way to a call.
I’m wound tight like a copper wire, desperate to spring into action at the drop of a hat. Technically, the choice to return to full duties is in my court, and it’s for that reason I’m still shackled to desk duties despite my captain’s constant nagging.
As if my thoughts summoned him, the door to the room swings open, revealing a man in a navy uniform. Captain Marcus Frasier, one of the most dedicated firefighters in the city. My oldest and only friend. A pain in my ass for almost twenty years. Who also happens to be my brother-in-law.
Meeting fresh out of college, we joined the same station as probies.
I was unimpressed when he started dating my sister, but my grudge lasted three days.
We’ve moved around—him for greater things and me for not so greater things—and four years ago, when he was promoted to captain, I got the call Station 82 was looking for an EMT-certified firefighter.
Without a second’s thought, I accepted the job, needing to escape the pitiful gazes of my old crew. My departure was long overdue, having spent countless shifts dismissing a past that refuses to be forgotten.
Marcus rarely wears that look, but as he watches me warily from the doorway, like I’m about to spontaneously combust, our last conversation replays in my head.
You’re not working as part of the team.
This has got to stop.
One day, you’re going to get yourself killed.
Or someone else.
He’s spent the last four years as a buffer between me and the others, meaning I can go about my shift withdrawn and with no concerned glances or questions as to why I sleep at the firehouse most nights. It means I can escape to the quiet place in the corner of my mind.
It doesn’t mean I can pull the shit I did on my last call. I recognize and respect his decision to suspend me.
“Why the fuck are you still here?” He slaps the switch on the wall, the white-light making me hiss.
Shielding my eyes, I stand, cursing when my knees crack from the movement. “Saving money on gas. I hate the commute home. The lumpy mattresses here are my favorite. Pick an answer. The question is, why are you still here? I thought Diana had you on a strict schedule.”
At my sister’s name, his expression softens. “She’s taken Freddie to see my parents for the night. Thought I’d take advantage and get some paperwork done.”
I fold my arms, a frown creasing my forehead. “Good for you. Can I go back to sleep, or do you need me for something?”
His sigh is tiresome. “I want you to go home, sleep in a real bed, eat a proper meal. Enjoy your evening off, go to a bar, the movies, rob a bank—anything. There’s no need for you to be here.”
I push aside the stinging blow his words deliver. “I went out four weeks ago. My quota is full.”
“That was for Ben’s bachelor party. It doesn’t count,” he volleys.
Talk of my brother’s pre-wedding celebrations reminds me of one thing, and one thing only.
Harriet.
The blue-eyed beauty has taken up far too much space in my head since we went our separate ways. At first, I refused to relive the evening for fear it would be a distraction. I was right, but what a welcome distraction she’s been.
Visions of her splayed out on the cheap motel room sheets visit me at night. Alone in the bunk room. Under the hot spray of my shower. Always with my aching cock in hand. I’m still not convinced the memories of her deserve to exist in the black hole of my subconscious.
“Earth to Warren.” Marcus raps his knuckles on the doorframe. “Where’d you go?”
I slip into my sneakers and barge past him, making him laugh. “Away from you.”
He follows me into the kitchen like an eager golden retriever, clearly abandoning the ideas of sending me home. From his smirk, he’s going to continue riding my ass.
“Also,” Marcus continues, not getting the hint. “You disappeared early and without saying goodbye. So technically, you still owe us a night out.”
I’m pouring myself a glass of orange juice when I pause. Glowering at him over my shoulder doesn’t have the intended effect. “Just because you’re married to my sister doesn’t mean I won’t punch you in the nose.”
He grins. “And being my wife’s brother doesn’t mean I go easy on you. Plus, I’m your boss.”
“I’m reporting you for conflict of interest.”
“You can try.” He snatches the glass off the counter and downs the contents. “Deny it all you want, but you had fun at the fair. Why, I don’t know. Yet.”
What my sister sees in him is beyond me.
My retort sits heavy on my tongue, but like a lot of things, it stays bottled up.
He’ll never find out why I was in somewhat of a happy mood in the motel lobby the following morning. He and my brother, Ben, grilled me until they were blue in the face.
As fun as the evening with Harriet was, it isn’t why I’m secretive about it. If I tell them, they’ll push for more, allowing their optimistic imaginations to get carried away. They’ll see it as a sign I’m ready to date again.
Buried deep inside the confines of my memories, under lock and key, is where her laugh and touch will remain. I’ll revisit it occasionally when I need to feel human again.
Today is not that day.
“I thought you had shit to do? So far, all you’ve done is disturb my sleep and steal my drink.”
There’s that fucking look again, and I immediately regret my words. “I need an answer by Wednesday. The board is chasing me.”
My entire mood shifts, and the contents of my stomach sours. I’m lucky the board and the Fire Chief gave me this long to make my decision, but in the two months since I was suspended, I’m still as clueless now as I was then.
To most, the ultimatum is fair and reasonable.
To me, it’s a sentence to relive my darkest days.
I love my job, know nothing else, but I’ve found it difficult to reason with myself that taking Marcus and our bosses up on their offer will actually benefit me and not send me spiraling.
My friend senses my apprehension. “Warren, I know what you’re thinking. It’s just therapy. Eight sessions, and if they’re happy with your progress, you’ll be back on duty in no time.”
“It’s not just anything,” I respond dryly. I’ve done the work, attended months’ worth of therapy, and somehow, I’ve found myself at square one again.
Marcus’s body slumps in defeat. He’s done his part protecting me while remaining unbiased in his role. “I didn’t mean it like that. This won’t be as intense as the time after Alison—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out harsher and louder than I expected, surprising us both.
He nods slowly, knowing better than to push the boundaries of my highly built walls.
“This isn’t about dredging up the past or wanting to see you suffer.
You’re a fucking fantastic firefighter and EMT—you know it, as does the board, but there are only so many chances we can give.
I don’t want this to be the reason you end your career well before your time.
We always promised to retire together, and I’m not ready for that yet.
Neither are you.” With a firm grip on my shoulder, he drills me with a hardened expression.
“Underneath all this is the kid who put tuna in my boots and saw me through the toughest days as a probie. You were the first person to know I’d bought a ring for Diana, the godfather to my son.
You’ve been through hell and back, brother, and I love you no matter what, but sometimes, I miss my old friend. ”
I’m frozen under his touch, afraid to say what’s on my mind.
That man is gone. Lost. Erased.
“Do you know when I finally got a glimpse of the old Warren again?”
“I reckon you’re going to tell me either way,” I croak.
His smile is light. “The morning after the bachelor party. Whatever you got up to had some of your old spark returning. You were…happy.”
The only reason I was happy was because I spent the night pretending I was someone else, someone without a jaded past or whose career hung on by a thread.
All because of the woman with the sweetest laugh, a floral scent that remains a mystery, and a freckle above her soft, pillowy lips.
The sudden memory of Harriet tips the scales that have sat at an impasse for weeks.
It’s not like I want to be this miserable shell of a man.
After years of trying to “fix” myself, I lost hope of ever being anyone else.
This could be my last chance, and the last thing I want is to be a burden to Marcus.
This job, outside of my family, is all I have left.
The department-assigned psychiatrist won’t be any different from the ones my parents begged me to see over seven years ago, but if I tick all their boxes and tell them what they want to hear, they might give me the stamp of approval to return to full-duties before the spring.
I can manage eight teeth-gritting sessions if it gets me back in an engine.
Decision made, I force my words out before changing my mind. “I’ll do it.”
Marcus blinks, as if he didn’t hear me correctly. “What?”
“I said I’ll do it. Call the chief in the morning.” I shuffle toward the door, too exhausted to continue this conversation. “If this is what it takes to prove I’m not a liability and capable of doing my job, then so be it.”
“You’re sure?”
No.
But what choice do I have? Without my job, I have nothing. It’s my life raft. If I lose it, the current threatening to drag me under will finally succeed.
“Make the call.” Before he can question my decision, I head back toward the bunk rooms.
It’s a good thing most of the crew are out when I fall asleep, because shortly after my eyes shut, a nightmare gouges its claws into my brain, startling me awake.
Only I can’t move. My T-shirt is drenched with sweat, body tense as granite, and a reel of the worst moments of my life replay in my head.
All I can do is lie there and wait for it to pass.