Page 40 of Ashes of Us
The stairs felt like they took forever. Each step careful, deliberate, O’Brien ahead of me calling out weak spots. My lungswere burning despite the mask, sweat pouring down my face, but the kid… the kid was breathing, and that was all that mattered.
We burst through the front door and the cool air hit like a slap.
The mom was there immediately, ripping him from my arms before I'd even cleared the porch. "Oh God, oh God, Mason—" She was sobbing, kissing his soot-covered face, checking him over with shaking hands.
An EMT appeared, tried to take the kid to the ambulance, but the mom wouldn't let go.
I stood there watching them, this family that was broken and whole at the same time, and felt nothing.
No relief. No pride. Just empty.
O’Brien clapped my shoulder. "Good grab, man."
I nodded. Couldn't find words.
Carter was talking into his radio, coordinating the rest of the suppression. The fire was under control now, mostly smoke. We'd gotten everyone out, and there’d been no casualties.
A win.
So why wouldn’t my stop shaking?
I wasin the bay scrubbing soot off my gear when Carter found me.
"Sullivan."
Instead of looking up, I just kept working the brush against my helmet, watching black water spiral down the drain. My turnout coat was draped over the bench next to me, still reeking of smoke. I'd need to run it through the extractor twice.
"Good work today," Carter said.
"Thanks."
He didn't leave. Just stood there, arms crossed, waiting.
I finally looked up. He was still in his gear too, face streaked with ash, but his expression was calm and patient. The way he got when he was about to have a conversation you didn't want to have.
"You froze in there," he said, and it wasn’t a question.
My jaw tightened. "Kid's fine."
“I know… but that's not what I said.” He pulled off his gloves, tossed them on the bench. “O’Brien said you were standing there staring at a photo when we called your name. Said it took you a few seconds to respond."
"I didn't?—"
"A few seconds in a fire, Sullivan." His voice was still calm, but there was steel underneath. "You know what that means."
I did. A few seconds was the difference between getting out and not getting out. Between a rescue and a recovery.
"It won't happen again."
"You're right. It won't." He sat down on the bench, heavy. "Because you're gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you."
I went back to scrubbing my helmet. "Nothing's going on."
"Bullshit." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You've been off for weeks. Taking every overtime shift. In the gym til midnight. O'Brien said you nearly dropped a barbell on your chest a couple of days ago.”
"I'm fine."
"You froze in a burning building today, Sullivan. That's not fine."
