Page 55 of Flare Up
They were the first on scene and it was a mess. Not only was there a house on fire, but a police officer was doing his best to separate two men who seemed intent on beating the crap out of each other on the sidewalk. One of the guys was in the kind of button-down pajamas Grant thought only catalog models wore and the other just had boxers on, so there was some serious dedication to hurting each other, considering the low temps.
“You just throw your damn cigarettes off your deck and you don’t even look,” pajama guy was yelling.
“Close your fucking recycling lid and they’ll bounce off,” boxer dude shouted back, and he didn’t sound sober.
“Enough,” Rick Gullotti shouted as he got out of the truck. “You two morons cut the shit and get out of our way or I’ll hose you both down.”
That got their attention long enough for a second police officer to join in the fun. Each officer took a combatant and went in opposite directions and the crews got to work.
The melted plastic that had presumably been the recycling bin in question had been against the ancient wood and ragged shingles of the garage wall. The garage was fully involved, but the guys hustled, wanting to keep it from destroying the house it was attached to.
The wind was picking up, too, so they also had to make sure the fire didn’t spread to the other buildings packed together in the dense neighborhood, including the house the cigarette had come from.
It was grueling work, but they kept pushing and managed to get it under control. The occupants of the house would need a place to stay for a while, but it wasn’t a total loss.
They were knocking down the last of it when a gas tank or something exploded and at the edge of what peripheral vision the SCBA mask allowed him, Grant saw a body get thrown backward. He’d ducked away from the blast, so it took him a few seconds to scramble to his feet, yelling into the radio.
It was Danny and for a moment Grant’s fear was so strong he could taste it, like a metallic tang in his mouth. When Danny started pushing himself to his feet, Grant grabbed him by the coat and half dragged him toward the door. Scott appeared next to him, so they were able to get him out of the way as the other guys tried to deal with the aftermath.
“I can walk,” Danny yelled as they crossed the yard, his feet sliding as he tried to dig his boots into the icy crust that was all that was left of the snow in the yard. “Dammit. Stop, right now.”
They stopped. Finally able to get his feet under him, Danny stood, though neither Grant nor Scott let go of his coat. He was weaving some, as if he’d had too much to drink, and Grant wasn’t taking the chance he’d fall on his face.
With their LT down, Engine 59’s crew pulled out and another crew went in. An ambulance was on standby, but Danny seemed to be okay by the time they got him to it. A little unsteady, but okay.
“It just knocked the wind out of me,” Danny said. “I’m fine.”
“Then it won’t take long to check you out,” the EMT said firmly.
Even before Gavin had hooked up with Cait, Grant knew there was no point in arguing with Boston EMS. The guy made quick work of it, though, and decided there was no reason for Danny to take a trip to the hospital.
“You just had the wind knocked out of you, like you said. Even though you didn’t lose consciousness, you’re not going back in, though. You’re a spectator now.”
They were all spectators while other crews finally knocked the fire down completely. Then they helped out with the overhaul until they were free to pack it up and head back to the station.
“You had to jinx it,” Aidan said to Grant on the way back. “Saying out loud you hope it’s quiet because you have plans is a sure way to end up in a shit show in the middle of the night.”
“No shit.” He leaned his head back, wondering if there would be any time at all for a power nap by the time they’d wrapped up things in the engine bays and cleaned up. Even if he didn’t take a shower now, it probably wouldn’t be worth hitting his bunk. He’d have to go home and sleep for at least a few hours, and then he could finally get Wren and get the hell out of the city for the weekend.
Chapter Sixteen
When they crossed the border into New Hampshire, Wren felt the anxiety creeping in. And when Grant pulled the Jeep off the highway and onto winding, tree-lined roads, the nerves had her shifting in her seat.
“Do you have to pee again?”
She gave him some serious side-eye. “No, I do not.”
“You’re squirming like a toddler over there and you drank all my soda. There’s a gas station about a mile up, so I figured I’d ask.”
“I didn’t drink all your soda. I only had a little.”
“But it was the last of it, so technically you drank it all.”
“I had no idea car trips with you would be so much fun.”
He laughed. “I’m not the one who has to pee every ten miles.”
“You’re exaggerating. And I’m nervous. When I’m nervous, I need things to do, but I’m trapped in the car, so I drank my soda. And some of your soda.” She frowned. “The sugar didn’t help the nerves.”
