Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Hunter
We’re on our way back to the station after spending most of the morning responding to a still-and-box alarm for a fire in the exhaust system of an event venue. Luckily, there were no injuries, but the smoke caused several alarms to be triggered in the area too.
“I’m going to order a meatball sub when we get back,” O’Connor groans from behind. “Maybe even two.”
“Potbelly’s?” Spencer asks.
“You know it. I might order a side of chili mac too. You can fuck off if you think you’re getting any of that.”
They continue to talk about all the food they’re going to order for lunch, and I use the rare moment of peace to rest my head against the seat and shut my eyes.
But the moment lasts all of two minutes, and I open my eyes again when the radio on the dashboard beeps.
I reach forward, grabbing it from its holder.
Clicking the receiver, I say, “Engine 3.”
“We’ve received a call of a vehicle fire at an arena, and you are currently the closest available unit. Can you respond to the call?” The dispatcher reads out the address, and Charlie has the sirens wailing before I can answer.
“Yep. On our way,” I acknowledge and return the radio to the holder.
“Wait, isn’t that the Thunder’s practice facility?” O’Connor asks, twisting around his seat.
“Yeah, it is,” Spencer says, and I glance over my shoulder as he holds up his phone, showing the Thunder’s practice facility on the map.
“I hope it isn’t an EV. I know some of the guys have them,” Lucas adds, and we all make a disgruntled noise in agreement. Those are fucking hell to put out.
Charlie pulls the rig into the parking lot, and I immediately spot smoke coming from one corner of the building.
Once we’re parked, I grab my helmet and jump out, and scan the large group of people outside for familiar blond waves.
A guy I recognize as Elliot’s head coach comes over, but it’s Blaine’s panic-stricken face that has my heart shooting up into my throat.
The moment he spots me, he runs over. His voice is all high-pitched and panicked, and his words come out in a rush.
“Elliot’s in there. He went in to get Boomer, but it’s been five minutes, and he still hasn’t come out.” He runs his tensed hand through his hair, his wide eyes returning to the building. “Fuck. What if he’s trapped? He’ll panic. He’s not good in confined spaces. Fuck!”
The image of Elliot’s face from the day I found him in the elevator flashes through my mind, and my own chest tightens. He’ll be terrified.
“Okay, I need you to explain. Where did he go?” I ask, trying to remain calm.
“He’ll be in Coach’s office.” He squeezes his eyes closed briefly and sucks in a shallow breath. “You’ll go through the doors, then turn right. It’s the office at the end of the hall.”
I nod firmly, then turn to Coach Harris. “Source of the fire?”
“The Zamboni bay. I was informed by the operator there was a known faulty wire, but that’s all I know.” He swallows, a rare hint of anxiety flashing in his eyes. “My office is near the bay. I have my door on an auto-lock.”
Fuck, and if Elliot let the door close, then started to panic, it’s most likely he couldn’t figure out how to open the door again because he wouldn’t be thinking clearly.
“Is the Zamboni fuel or electric?” I ask.
“Electric.”
I nod and turn to address my team. “O’Connor, get a hole in that roof. Spencer, cut the electricity and gas, then soak the place. Wilson, you’re with me.”
Everyone disperses, and once we’re equipped with our SCBA gear, I jog inside with Lucas following close behind.
I head in the direction Blaine gave, checking the plaques on the door.
The further we go, the denser the smoke gets, and it reduces our visibility.
When we find the right door, I push hard on the handle and slam my shoulder into it. It rattles but doesn’t open.
“Elliot, I need you to move away from the door,” I shout, then count to ten, giving him a chance to move, before I step back and kick the door as hard as I can.
The doorframe splinters slightly, so I do it again, and again.
Finally, the door flies open. I rush in and find Elliot slumped against the wall, his head lolled to the side and eyes closed.
Boomer is lying across his body, licking the side of his face and neck in distress.
“Elliot,” I say, loud enough to be heard through my mask. “Are you with me?”
He doesn’t stir. Like he’s asking for help, Boomer nudges me with his nose when I check Elliot’s pulse. It’s there, but it’s weak.
“Wilson, take the dog,” I demand.
Boomer lets out a wailing cry when Lucas picks him up. He moves out the way, and I quickly assess Elliot for any injuries before hooking my arms under his armpits and lifting him up.
“Stay with me, baby,” I beg, heart pounding behind my ribs.
With one hand on his arm, I squat down and place him across my shoulders, then carry him outside.
“Elliot!” Blaine yelps the moment he sees us.
I carry Elliot to the ambulance and carefully place him down onto the waiting stretcher. I take my mask off while they check his airways, then place a mask over his face to administer oxygen.
“No injuries visible. High smoke exposure. It was likely he experienced a panic attack and fainted. He was unresponsive on arrival. Pulse was weak,” I explain. My chest tightens with each word, making it hard to breathe.
I move aside, allowing the paramedics space to begin checking his vitals and make their own assessment. Blaine moves to Elliot’s side, grabbing hold of his brother’s hand.
“Need to check the dog. He’ll be upset if he’s hurt,” I say to no one in particular, my voice sounding faint to my own ears.
I’m vaguely aware of Avi checking over Boomer, who continues to cry in distress in Lucas’s arms.
Elliot loves that dog, and clearly, Boomer loves him too.
I can’t do anything except stand there, frozen, and watch as they put him in the back of the ambulance.
Blaine climbs inside with him, and then the doors close, hiding him from view.
Sirens blare, and the back of the ambulance becomes a blur as tears fill my eyes.
Realization hits me like a boulder, and I stumble back like I’ve been struck.
Fuck.
I nearly lost him.
I nearly lost the man I love.
Just like I lost Duncan.
A sharp pain shoots across my chest, stealing my breath.
My heart is beating rapidly against my ribs.
It’s beating too fast, but I don’t have enough air to speak.
I slump back against the rig for support and gasp for air.
Numbness travels down my limbs like a veil, and I slide down until my ass meets the asphalt.
Taking my helmet off, I place my elbows on my bent knees, and I bury my face in my hands. I take a few quick, shallow breaths, then let myself do something I haven’t done in seven years.
I fucking sob.
When we got back to the station, Chief was waiting for me.
His arms crossed over his chest, a deep scowl on his face.
I fucked up. I broke protocol, and after I explained who Elliot is to me, he signed me off for the rest of the shift.
Whether I’ll be reprimanded will be another question, but right now, I don’t care.
All I care about is the man lying in the hospital bed in the next room.
I haven’t gone in there yet, as Blaine and Alex are with him. They don’t know I’m here, or if they’ve noticed me peering through the window to his room, they haven’t said anything.
Elliot’s currently asleep. He’s still wearing the oxygen mask and hooked up to an IV. The numbers on the monitor look good, which gives me some relief. But there’s still this heavy cloud hanging over me.
The image of him lying unconscious on the floor keeps playing through my mind on a loop.
His lifeless body. His skin, pale and damp.
It’s haunting me, and my mind keeps whirling with thoughts of what could have happened if I weren’t there.
With the call being out of our designated zone, another station would have responded, and I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if they didn’t get to him and I lost him.
What if the fire spread too quickly and made the rescue impossible?
I would have lost him in the same way I lost Duncan, and the thought is fucking killing me.
Sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I blink the tears from my eyes and focus on the fact that he’s still here.
I couldn’t save Duncan, but I was able to save Elliot.
He’s still here.
Fuck. I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want him to be worrying about me when the focus should be on him.
Deciding to grab a coffee, I turn on my heel and make my way toward one of the vending machines. The sound of footsteps following has my spine stiffening instinctively, and next thing I know, Blaine is grabbing a fistful of my shirt and slamming me into the wall.
“You better not fucking leave him,” he spits, fury blazing in his gray eyes. “I will fucking end you if you hurt him.”
Alex rushes over, placing a hand on his husband’s chest and trying to push him off me, but it’s no use. “Blaine, that’s enough.”
I might have a good few inches on Blaine, but he’s using his entire strength to pin me against the wall, and I’m not going to fight him.
“I’m not leaving him. I just…” I shake my head, lifting my gaze to look at the tiled ceiling.
My voice is quiet when I continue. “My husband died in a house fire seven years ago. I was deployed at the time. I didn’t find out until days later because they couldn’t reach us.
” I swallow roughly, the knot in my throat becoming thicker with each second that passes.
“I always thought it would be me who would be the one that didn’t come home.
For my whole life, I’ve been the one putting myself in danger, and yet, I lost my husband, and there was a moment earlier where I thought I’d lost Elliot too. ”