Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Drake
“How’re things coming with the fundraiser?” Chief Mahoney strolled into the kitchen.
Enthusiasm thrummed through me. Spring Fires was signed on, and Ethan seemed just as excited as I was for the event. I’d started coordinating ticket sales, and we’d be using the firehouse grounds for the show itself.
“So good,” I said. “And you’re sure the date works?”
“Yeah, I cleared it out,” Chief said with a grin. He clapped me on the shoulder. “You’re doing good, Drake. I can’t wait to see how this turns out.”
Warmth flowed through me. Even though I might always feel second-best with my family, here, I thrived. That was proof positive I was in the right place.
Just like the feelings August inspired in me were proving he was the right one.
I only needed to tell him.
“These guys are talented, and they’re excited to help out the firehouse.”
Ethan had mentioned he had a personal reason to, but he hadn’t elaborated on it. I was just relieved August had made the initial connection. Who knew if my message would’ve gotten looked over otherwise?
“Considering the amount the guys are already discussing, I think it’s fair to say you’ve got the younger folks interested, which was my hope.” Chief leaned back against the counter. “Quiet day here?”
I was halfway through a twenty-four, and we’d barely heard a murmur, which was pretty normal for a Tuesday.
In a small town like Kennett, we weren’t facing a huge amount of constant fire crises.
While working in a more high-profile area would be interesting, I enjoyed the peace and downtime too much to want to move.
When I imagined a future with August, which had been happening more frequently as of late, the pace of my job worked well for our life together. Which was fucking insane that I was even going down that train of thought.
I was so far gone on him, but I’d been too chickenshit to say anything on our date.
And I was even more chickenshit when it came to Serena.
The fire alarm bell began to ring.
“Spoke too soon,” Chief said, striding in the direction of the PPE room. “Let’s go get our turnout gear on.”
“You coming out on this one, old man?” I teased, keeping pace with him.
Dooley rushed into the PPE room around the same time we did, but his pale face offered all the signal I needed.
“How bad?” I asked, heading to my locker. I started to strip down at once, the motions automatic as I ditched my clothes in the locker and tugged on my uniform and the turnout gear.
“Big fire over at Turnpoint Apartments,” he said.
“Oh shit,” I murmured. Apartment fires spread fast, and the individual destruction they caused was heartbreaking.
“I’ll get a few more on the scene,” Chief said, somehow already dressed in his turnout gear. “Dooley, you drive.”
“Yes, sir,” he said with a salute as he tugged on his own gear. We’d want every precaution for a fire like this.
My heart slammed hard as adrenaline coursed through my veins. Turnpoint Apartments was right on the edge of town, but it was a crowded complex, full of people who’d be in danger right now. We had to get to them.
“Let’s head out,” Dooley said, leading the way to the truck we’d be taking.
When I stepped into the garage with the truck, Chief strode in from the other side.
“Hannigan and Jacobs are already heading in. Let’s take the Hazmat truck,” he said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”
My skin prickled with awareness. Chief’s feelings were rarely wrong, and we’d learned to trust them over the years. “Noted.”
Dooley pivoted to the other truck in the station, one equipped with materials to handle Class B and C fires. Fuck, those were always more of a challenge. The turnout gear was heavy but a familiar comfort, and I stepped into the back of the truck and found my spot, Chief taking the other side.
“We going now?” Dooley called back.
“Head off,” Chief called. “Jacobs and Hannigan will be behind us.”
With that, the bay doors opened, the engine rumbled, and the sirens began to ring.
We rushed out of the station and onto the street with a fluidity of motion I was used to, cars veering out of the way as we careened past streetlights and through the main stretch of town.
Turnpoint Apartments was only minutes away from the firehouse, but when a fire was spreading through a huge place like that, every second counted.
And every second stretched longer and longer as we raced from one street to another en route.
Fuck, I wanted to let August know.
The fact he lingered on my mind even now solidified my feelings for him. Normally, on bigger calls, my thoughts flashed to my folks, my sisters, but they were circling around the one man who’d managed to work his way into my heart.
Who was all bright smiles, goofy jokes, and golden retriever energy I hadn’t been able to stay away from.
The chief was quiet too, clearly wrapped up in his mind. He’d told me his thoughts always went to his wife and kids during these calls. I’d always been jealous of everything he’d built, how he’d managed to find himself something lasting even with the unpredictability and danger of the job.
For the first time, I had that hope too.
I just needed to tell August.
“Approaching,” Dooley called out as we made a hard turn.
I clutched the bar a little tighter. Who knew what we’d walk into?
It could be a small apartment fire, but these weren’t old, sturdy buildings—with some of the newer complexes, the shoddy materials lit up far too easily.
My stomach roiled, unease spreading through me.
“Fuck,” Dooley swore, and that confirmed it.
I met the chief’s gaze, and the seriousness there etched into me. Readiness coursed through my system, one bred into me from countless fire calls, easy to difficult.
The truck came to a halt, and Chief and I jumped out from the side.
The blaze in front of us was bad.
Flames licked up the right side of the building, and Chief started to walk forward, doing his assessment of the area. Dooley and I rushed to grab the double jacket hoses, as well as the foam hose, and we got them prepared.
Chief jogged back over to us. “Looks like a class B fire based on the flames and spread. Start at it with the foam.”
Already, crowds of people gathered out in the parking lot, huddled in groups of families, neighbors, as everyone stared on in horror. This sort of place, the fire could spread at a lightning pace, and everyone’s homes were in danger. My mind zeroed in on assessing the damage that was visible.
“Anyone still inside?” I asked the chief.
He was already in motion, helping me and Dooley prep the foam hose, and we unrolled it at rapid speed, drawing it over in the direction of the blaze. The creak and groan and crackle of the flames were audible, even over the chatter from the crowd outside.
“Go check with the crowds,” Chief directed, and I stepped away at once.
I jogged over to the first cluster of tenants. “Everyone get out okay?”
A woman raced up to me, tears running down her face. “My mother, she’s trapped in there. She can’t walk.”
Oh, fuck.
“What part of the building?” I asked.
The woman pointed to the middle of the complex. The left side was fiercely burning, closing in on where she’d pointed. She’d be in imminent danger.
“Apartment 2b, on the second floor,” she said, wringing her hands. “I drove over here when I heard about the fire.”
My stomach bottomed out, but I radioed the chief. “Going in—middle section. Older woman trapped.”
“Roger,” Chief fired back.
With that, I took off.
My heart thumped hard in my ears as I secured all my gear and strode up to the central entrance.
The door was locked, one of those that needed a passcode to get in, and metal at that.
The window next to it was the easier entry point.
I brought out my hatchet and began to hack away, the shattering of glass barely making a dent in the nearby roar of the fire.
Already, stepping this close to the building brought the waves of smoke my way, the heat rising by the second.
Once I got the window cleared, I reached for the radio. “Entering now.”
When I stepped inside, someone’s bedroom greeted me, piles of dirty laundry and teetering stacks of books, but I strode through the apartment with ease.
Once I emerged into the hallway, I headed in the direction of the stairwell.
If the mother was on the second floor, I should be able to get to her quickly.
I marched down the main hall at an even speed, making sure to watch where I walked for any obstacles, as well as any glimmers of flame or plumes of smoke. I checked each room as I went, the doors still open, alert for any sounds of a person or animal who might’ve gotten left behind in the shuffle.
Farther down the hall, the flames were creeping forward, licking through apartment after apartment at an alarming speed.
Given the builder, I wasn’t surprised. Geraldo Building was notorious for using shit materials and not keeping everything to code, even as he churned out more new complexes every year.
I reached the stairs and thumped my way up, my heart rate accelerated.
The roiling smoke that had begun to crawl through the place was likely hazardous, and I was grateful for the SCBA gear I was breathing through.
Especially if this had been caused by a gas leak or any other sort of class B situation.
My body hummed with readiness, the way it always did during one of the more dangerous fires.
In these moments, I thrived. My adrenaline pumped, my body hummed with awareness, and I moved with an unparalleled deftness.
And yet, a new concern blossomed in the mix. If something happened to me here, I’d regret not saying anything to August.
I reached the second floor, and smoke crawled farther into the building, making visibility murkier. I checked the first door—apartment 2a. Chances were, the woman who was trapped would be close to here.
The door on the opposite side showed the exact one I searched for. I opened the door, which thankfully wasn’t locked.
“Anyone in here?” I called out.
“Here,” an older woman cried, coming from farther inside the apartment.
I rushed in the direction of the rooms, and in the middle of the hall, an older woman crawled forward, using her arms to propel her. My chest squeezed tight. Shit, had her relative not been outside, she never would’ve made it out on her own.
“Let’s get you on my back,” I said. “Trouble with the legs?”
“Yes,” she gasped, sweat in a sheen across her forehead. I crouched down and helped her onto my back. Thankfully, she wasn’t very heavy. I gripped her arms to keep her in place, her legs too weak to brace herself on my back. Time to get the fuck out of here.
I headed out of her apartment again, this time with her on my back. When I reached the door, I stopped.
The fire had spread.
The stairwell I’d come up was swallowed in orange-gold flames, increasing by the second.
Fuck.
Looks like my luck had run out.
The roar of the fire was growing, those flames threatening top-speed decimation, and my heart sank.
My biggest regret was never telling August I loved him.