Page 2 of Heat Exchange
“And it’s waiting tables,” Ashley continued. “It’s not like I’m asking you to take a hiatus from some fancy career path.”
That was bitchy, even for Ashley, but Lydia decided to give her a pass. She didn’t know what had gone wrong in their marriage, but she did know Ashley loved Danny Walsh with every fiber of her being, so she had to be a wreck.
“I can’t leave Shelly high and dry,” Lydia said in a calm, reasonable tone. “This is a great apartment and I’m lucky to have it. It has off-street parking and my space has my apartment number in it. It’s literallyonlymine.”
“I can’t be at the bar, Lydia. You know how it is there. Everybody’s got a comment or some advice to give, and I have to hear every five minutes what a great guy Danny is and why can’t I just give him another chance?”
Danny reallywasa great guy, but she could understand her sister not wanting to be reminded of it constantly while they were in the process of separating. But going back to Boston and working at Kincaid’s was a step in the wrong direction for Lydia.
“I don’t know, Ash.”
“Please. You don’t know—” To Lydia’s dismay, her sister’s voice was choked off by a sob. “I can’t do it, Lydia. I really, really need you.”
Shit. “I’ll be home tomorrow.”
* * *
“WEGOTSMOKEshowing on three and at least one possible on the floor,” Rick Gullotti said. “Meet you at the top, boys.”
Aidan Hunt threw a mock salute in the direction of the ladder company’s lieutenant and tossed the ax to Grant Cutter before grabbing the Halligan tool for himself. With a fork at one end and a hook and adze head on the other end, it was essentially a long crowbar on steroids and they never went anywhere without it. After confirmation Scotty Kincaid had the line, and a thumbs-up from Danny Walsh at the truck, he and the other guys from Engine 59 headed for the front door of the three-decker.
Some bunch of geniuses, generations before, had decided the best way to house a shitload of people in a small amount of space was to build three-story houses—each floor a separate unit—and cram them close together. It was great if you needed a place to live and didn’t mind living in a goldfish bowl. It was less great if it was your job to make sure an out-of-control kitchen fire didn’t burn down the entire block.
They made their way up the stairs, not finding trouble until they reached the top floor. The door to the apartment stood open, with smoke pouring out. Aidan listened to the crackle of the radio over the sound of his own breathing in the mask. The guys from Ladder 37 had gained access by way of the window and had a woman descending, but her kid was still inside.
“Shit.” Aidan confirmed Walsh knew they were going into the apartment and was standing by to charge the line if they needed water, and then looked for nods from Kincaid and Cutter.
He went in, making his way through the smoke. It was bad enough so the child would be coughing—hopefully—but there was chaos in the front of the apartment as another company that had shown up tried to knock down the flames from the front.
Making his way to the kid’s bedroom, he signaled for Cutter to look under the bed while he went to the closet. If the kid was scared and hiding from them, odds were he or she was in one of those two spots.
“Bingo,” he heard Cutter say into his ear.
The updates were growing more urgent and he heard Kincaid call for water, which meant the fire was heading their way. “No time to be nice. Grab the kid and let’s go.”
It was a little girl and she screamed as Cutter pulled her out from under the bed. She was fighting him and, because his hold was awkward, once she was free of the bed, Cutter almost lost her. Aidan swore under his breath. If she bolted, they could all be in trouble.
He leaned the Halligan against the wall and picked up the little girl. By holding her slightly slanted, he was able to hold her arms and legs still without running the risk of smacking her head on the way down.
“Grab the Halligan and let’s go.”
“More guys are coming up,” Walsh radioed in. “Get out of there now.”
The smoke was dense now and the little girl was doing more coughing and gasping than crying. “My dog!”
Aidan went past Kincaid, slapping him on the shoulder. Once Cutter went by, Kincaid could retreat—they all stayed together—and let another company deal with the flames.
“I see her dog,” Aidan heard Cutter say, and he turned just in time to see the guy disappear back into the bedroom.
“Jesus Christ,” Scotty yelled. “Cutter, get your ass down those stairs. Hunt, just go.”
He didn’t want to leave them, and he wouldn’t have except the fight was going out of the child in his arms. Holding her tight, he started back down the stairs they’d come up. At the second floor he met another company coming up, but he kept going.
Once he cleared the building, he headed for the ambulance and passed the girl over to the waiting medics. It was less than two minutes before Cutter and Kincaid emerged from the building, but it felt like forever.
They yanked their masks off as Cutter walked over to the little girl and—after getting a nod from EMS—put an obviously terrified little dog on the girl’s lap. They all smiled as the girl wrapped her arms around her pet and then her mom put her arms around both. Aidan put his hand on Cutter’s shoulder and the news cameras got their tired, happy smiles for the evening news.
Once they were back on the other side of the engine and out of view of the cameras, Kincaid grabbed the front of Cutter’s coat and shoved him against the truck. “You want to save puppies, that’s great. If there’s time. Once you’re told to get the fuck out, you don’t go back for pets. And if you ever risk my life again, or any other guy’s, for a goddamn dog, I’ll make sure you can’t even get a job emptying the garbage at Waste Reduction.”
