Page 2 of Fired Up (Alphas Forever 2)

Anthony

As soon as I close the door, I realize what an asshole I just was. No. Not just an asshole. A raging, deplorable asshole. I can’t believe I just shut the door in her face.

To be fair, though, she did rub me the wrong way. I can’t help but be defensive when someone comes at me like that.

Even if it’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.

I have to assume that she's my downstairs neighbor. I've met my neighbors on either side of me, and I don’t know who else would knock on my door and complain. I swear, I didn’t realize how loud I was being. It’s not like I’m trying to piss people off.

I peer through the peephole to see if she’s still there. I’m both disappointed and relieved to see that she’s not. I retreat to my bedroom and force myself to lay down in bed. My bed is huge and should be comfortable, but in the state I'm in, it may as well be a wooden palette.

I've been like this for the past month. Unable to sleep, I mean. It all started a few weeks after I was forced to retire from the fire service at age thirty-eight.

I don't know why it took a few weeks for the insomnia to get to me. I guess I was probably still in shock. But when the shock wore off, the struggle hit. And it hit hard.

Ever since I was a little kid, I knew that I wanted to be a firefighter. I never considered doing anything else. And after high school, I made my dream come true. I worked my ass off, and it paid off. At nineteen, I officially became a firefighter.

In reality, of course, being a firefighter was a lot more difficult than I expected. There's so much pressure put on you. All the time. But it's worth it. I can't imagine anything more rewarding. There’s nothing like saving a life.

When the accident happened, I'd had almost two decades of service under my belt. I knew what I was doing. The thing about fire, though, is that it doesn’t give a shit how experienced you are.

My squad had gotten a call about a house fire. We were the first on the scene. We quickly assessed the situation and entered through the front door, ready to battle the flames. The fire kept pushing back. It was relentless. But so were we.

Suddenly, though, I heard a terrible cracking sound, and the next thing I knew, our captain was yelling for us to get out. I was the last one out of the house, and I would've been a dead man if I’d been two seconds slower. As soon as I was out, I looked back just in time to see the roof collapse.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off that I realized I’d injured my shoulder. But I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I saw my physician. I did physical therapy. I figured I’d be back to my old self in no time.

But as it turned out, that damn torn rotator cuff led to permanent damage, which led to me failing the physical tests I needed to pass in order to get back to work.

And now here I am, forced out of the only career I ever wanted.

Sure, I could find another job. I could get a hobby. I could volunteer. But it's never going to be the same. When I was a firefighter, I felt like I was actually doing something worthy in this world. I felt like I was a part of something greater than myself. I was part of a brotherhood. Those guys were my family.

And now I’m on my own.

I press my head back into my pillow and stare straight up at the ceiling. There's a thin, almost invisible crack running across it. I imagine the crack growing wider, the ceiling breaking apart, it coming crashing down on top of me.

Fuck. This is terrible. I really need to figure out how to turn off my mind and get to sleep.

As bad as my insomnia usually is, now it's even worse, thanks to that little exchange with my downstairs neighbor. I can't help but replay our conversation—if you could even call it that—over and over again in my head. God, she was angry. She really caught me off guard. Normally I’m good with unexpected situations, but this…this was different.

Not to mention that those curves on her petite frame were something else. Damn, she was mesmerizing.

If it wasn't so late, I would go down to her apartment right now and try to make things right. But I have a feeling that knocking on her door right now with only infuriate her more. Making amends will have to wait until tomorrow.

I shut my eyes and consider what I'll say to her. Should I just apologize? Should I bring her some kind of peace offering? Maybe. But I have no idea what I would bring. The most practical thing would be a pair of earplugs, but I’m not sure she would appreciate that.

It occurs to me once again that I know absolutely nothing about her. That should probably be the first step, then. Find out her name. Then go from there.

And I'll just have to hope that she doesn't slam her door in my face.

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