Page 25 of Shielding His Heart
I check my phone—eleven p.m.—and see a fire alert for the Battleboro High School gym—which most residents know affectionately as simply the “Old Gym.” Part of the original high school built in the sixties, it’s been more or less empty since the new campus was built the next block over. For most folks around here, it holds a lot of special memories from their old school days. Which explains why I was alerted even though it’s my day off. If there’s a fire at a place that amounts to a historical site in Battleboro, it’ll be all hands on deck.
I quickly tug on my bunker gear, double-checking my med bag as I go. Still half asleep, I’m already dressed and in the kitchen chugging down an energy drink when Tana shuffles in, rubbing at her eyes. A couple things hit me at once.
First, she’s wearing a pair of shorts that may as well be underwear. They flaunt her legs and hips to a degree I’m certain must be illegal in several states. I nearly choke on the energy drink.
A second thought hits me as the drink burns a path down my throat. I can’t leave the kids alone here with her, that wouldn’t be fair for either of them with everything still so new. Cursing under my breath, I dig out my phone and pray this won’t be one of those nights Mom and Dad hit the wine bottle a little too hard and sleep like the dead. Mom isn’t supposed to get the girls because I’m not on shift, so she wouldn’t be planning to hear from me.
“Alec?” Tana says sleepily. “What’s wrong?” She blinks several times in rapid succession, her eyes clearing as she takes me in. “Why are you dressed like that?”
I move to her, a bit awkward in the bulky material, and lift a hand to her cheek. The sleep clears from her eyes, and they dilate a little. Fuck if I don’t love seeing her like this, all pliant and soft from sleep. I want nothing more than to sink into her warmth and feel her draped around me, even if it’s only to fall asleep wrapped in her softness.
“I got a call out, baby. Trying to get ahold of my mom to watch the girls. You can go back to sleep. Everything will be fine.”
The call to Mom goes to voicemail. I curse under my breath as I try Dad’s number with the same result. It’s not required I show up, but a place like the Old Gym means everything to the residents of Battleboro. Zeke will want everyone there.
“What’s a call out?” she asks, her voice still husky with sleep. Despite the alert still going off on my phone, the raspy sound to her voice has my cock hardening in my pants.
“Fire. They need everyone available to come out. Just waiting for one of my parents to answer so they can be here in case anything happens with the girls.”
She hesitates, biting her lip, then says, “I can stay with them.”
Dad’s phone also goes to voicemail, but I’m not surprised. He could sleep through the apocalypse. “It’s okay. I’ll keep trying them.” My hand drops from her cheek and rakes through my hair. Mom’s phone goes to voicemail a second time.
Tana moves to the coffee machine, fighting a yawn, and puts a pod in to brew. “Don’t be silly. They’ll be asleep the whole time you’re gone, I imagine. I can handle that. I’ll keep trying your mom if you’re worried about it, and as soon as she gets the call, she’ll come help. You need to go.”
My phone beeps again, and I hesitate. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she answers as the scent of coffee wafts through the kitchen. “Go. I’ll keep my phone on me if you need me. We’ll be fine.”
She was right when she said I’d have to start trusting her to make her own decisions. The girls know I often have to leave suddenly, and Tana is still their mother. I shoot out a text to my parents and decide to trust her.
“This shouldn’t take long, maybe a couple hours. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me if anything happens.”
Tana nods and grabs her coffee from the machine. “I will.”
I tug on my boots. “You can go back to sleep. It could be a long time before I get back.”
“Stop stalling. You need to go. They’ll be fine.”
Getting to my feet, I move to open the door and then stop. I cross the space and tug her body close to me for one quick, hard kiss. “This doesn’t count as a real kiss. I just can’t leave without it.”
Her eyes are dazed, and her chest is flushed when I force myself to turn away from her.
* * *
Zeke is first in the rig, already doing the 360-degree size up, which is a key factor in all fireground operations. The 360 assessment allows him to size up all areas of the structure to gain as much intelligence as possible to minimize the risk of death or injury to his firefighters. Sometimes, an arriving officer will try to take immediate action by running into the fire without an assessment. But on a structure like the gym, enclosed the way it is with few windows or doors in proportion to its size, it would mean a higher risk to the responding firefighters.
During his 360, Zeke would note any alternate points of entry—windows or doors—and any areas that may pose a hazard, such as downed power lines, propane tanks, or gas lines. He’ll examine the structure for fire, cracks in the walls, or any other indication the roof may collapse. In this case, he already knows there isn’t a basement. If he wasn’t aware of the floor layout, the assessment would also help him formulate a best guess at the interior to determine how many probable rooms it contains.
When he’s done, he meets me, the other responding volunteer firefighters, and the Battleboro Fire & Rescue crew at the Alpha, or address facing, side of the structure. But I don’t need to hear his instructions. The fire has already fully engulfed the structure. There won’t be any saving it. The most we can do is surround it with tankers and drown it out, protecting the structures and environment around it. It takes nearly a half-hour for mutual aid from the closest town to arrive with additional rigs to put out the blaze.
At one in the morning, I pull off my helmet and mask and wipe the streaming sweat from my face with a damp T-shirt I got from the rig. Walker is next to me, face flushed and ash-streaked, still glowing red from the heat of the fire. We observe the charred, soaked remains of the building with grim expressions.
“Shit,” Walker says with a somber tone.
“That about sums it up,” I say.
“Where’s Captain?” he asks.
