Page 2 of Breathless

“Almost out, Noah,” he grunted. At least his nose hadn’t broken and his headlamp was still functional. “But we’re going to talk about you remodeling that dad bod as soon as this is over. You used to be lighter.”

Fireman, heal thyself,Wyatt chided. He should have cut down on the leftovers and worked out more with that rookie, Bobby. The big kid was always training for something. Wyatt, on the other hand, was on the wrong side of thirty-one, his endurance was shit and he was feeling the strain of carrying a geared-up Noah on his back.

Even though they’d been fighting the blaze for hours, his weakness now was unacceptable. The captain could no doubt do this carry with one hand tied behind his back, and that man’s belly came into the room five seconds before he did.

This fire was bullshit, he thought to himself as he stepped over a collapsed ceiling tile. It shouldn’t have taken so long to put out, but every time they thought they had a handle on it, another explosion surprised them.

Had to be arson. It wasn’t his job to think or care about that, but even he could see that everything about this burn was wrong. There was no restaurant or kitchen facility here, no chemicals stored on site. Nothing that would create this dark smoke and unnatural acceleration.

Their new fire marshal would figure it out. She was young and a little aggressive, but then a woman her age had to be when dealing with old grizzled assholes who hated change.

Assholes like him. He imagined she was already on scene at this point, giving his captain hell for what Wyatt was doing right now. This walkthrough was not, strictly speaking, standard operating procedure.

He was almost sorry he was missing it.

When he finally reached the door to the stairwell, he bumped the push-bar with his hip and pushed out onto the landing.

“Maybe we should introduce the marshal to cousin Calamity. Kate said she wants a girlfriend she can’t steamroll.” He coughed when a dose of thick, pungent smoke filled his lungs.

I dare you to stop talking for five minutes, firecracker. You can say it all downstairs.

His auditory hallucination had a point. Once they were outside, he’d need his voice to fill in both the captain and the marshal on why Noah and Kadir had gone off script. He might be the only who’d heard them call out “Movement, second floor!” before they dove right into the inferno like goddamn probies with a death wish.

Being the idiot brother was usually his job, damn it.

But then, people had always thought he and Noah were twins. Interchangeable in most things, but especially on the job. For years they’d been known for being reckless or heroic, depending on who you were asking. And there wasn’t a story told at the firehouse—involving a prank or an insane rescue attempt—that didn’t include the names Wyatt or Noah Finn. Usually both.

Three years ago, Noah became a single father overnight, and everything had changed. Just like that, he’d started talking about safety and making smarter choices. He’d changed his work schedule to make it more reasonable. He’d changed his whole life to make it more baby friendly, taking Wyatt by surprise and leaving him to catch up or fall behind.

And now what? The kid had just celebrated his third birthday so his father thought he had permission to race into a burning building as if he were still fireproof without anything to lose?

Fuck. That.

He got that the restraints on Noah’s social life had been starting to chafe. It was what he’d been worried about as soon as his brother had told him his plans. But it was no excuse for being irresponsible.

Wyatt had been getting that lecture ready when Kadir strode out carrying a shaking older woman in his arms. “Well, thank God for that,” he’d said under his breath, watching for his brother’s silhouette in the doorway.

Seconds had ticked by like hours while Wyatt stood there, holding his breath. Where the fuck was his brother?

Then another side window shattered and Kadir had shouted Noah’s name. When Wyatt saw a handful of the guys restraining him from going in again, he’d slipped on his mask and made a run for it instead.

Because hell no, that’s why. Not in this lifetime or any other was he leaving Noah alone in that.

He felt his brother stir and paused on the stairs, tightening his grip in silent warning. Noah might wake up disoriented and struggle, and there wasn’t much room for Wyatt to maneuver here if his hold slipped. He knew Noah would understand, even in his current state.

“Fuck!”His next step sent a stab of pain through his ankle and had him swearing in his head, lips pressed tight together to avoid the smoke surrounding him. “Fuckfuckfuck!”

There was a hole where one of the steps should be, and he’d found it, his booted foot going right through to the base of his calf. It hurt, but he didn’t think anything was broken.

How the hell had he missed that on the way up?

You were thinking about me instead of where your feet were going. As usual.

A groan vibrated against his shoulder as he shifted, careful not to dislodge the mask he’d slipped over Noah’s face to replace his shattered—

Don’t think about it.

“I’ve got you, okay?” He coughed and tried to blink the sting out of his eyes. “Zach isn’t losing his favorite uncle tonight.” Or you.

---