Nothing Left to Burn

  He waved a hand. “Matt didn’t get ripped until he was, like, sixteen, and you’re taller than he was. You put the effort into training, you’ll be able to do it.”

  “Maybe, but he’ll never sign the permission form.”

  Alex inclined his head. “True.” And then he grinned. “But your mom will. Especially if you ask her now.”

  My eyes popped wide. He was right. She was so pissed at my dad, she might do anything if she thought it would upset him back. “I like the letter idea better.”

  Alex shook his head. “Write it if you need to get it out, but a letter now won’t make an impression. He’s already gone. You need to get inside him, Reece.” He tapped his temple.

  “Yeah.” I reconsidered. “Yeah, where he lives.”

  Alex smiled. “Exactly.”

  Chapter 1

  Reece

  Dear Dad,

  I promised Matt I’d do this. I know it’ll piss you off, but a promise is a promise, and I can’t let him down.

  Baring your soul wasn’t as easy as I’d thought. There was so much I wanted to tell Dad. Remind him about all those times he’d said no, every time he’d made me feel less important than my brother. Every time he’d made me cry and wish I were Matt instead of me. There were years of pent-up resentment that could fill entire reams of paper, yet I’d managed to scrawl just a few lines. Somehow, the right words were impossible to find—if they existed at all.

  I folded the crisp white sheet of paper into thirds, then folded that in half, tucked it carefully into my pocket, and thought about abandoning this entire pointless idea. But I had no other options. I sucked in a deep breath, tried to ignore the pounding of my pulse, and left the car.

  It was time.

  At the entrance where the roll-up doors were all the way up, I stopped and took a good look around. Red trucks gleamed in the light. I could hear guys busting each other’s balls, laughing hard and cursing loud. The slight scent of mildew tickled my nose when the April breeze blew my way. The fire station was every little boy’s fantasy, including mine. But I learned a long time ago that it did no good to dream.

  Then I saw Amanda Jamison, packing nylon rope into a bag, and just watched. In her station uniform, the lean muscles in her long limbs flexed when she strode to a truck to stow the bag. I knew Amanda from school. Knew the blond hair she wore scraped viciously back and twisted into a knot at her neck was straight and smooth, reached past her shoulders, and smelled like lemonade. Knew I had no shot with her. She’d never said so much as “hi” to me.

  She’d had a thing for my brother.

  She caught sight of me, turned, and didn’t notice her rope bag tumble out of the truck. “Matt? Oh God. Matt.”

  Matt. My shoulders sagged. Okay. No turning back now. I swallowed hard and walked into the house where I had never been welcome. It took only three steps for recognition to fill Amanda’s eyes. Or maybe it was revulsion. The two often went hand in hand where I was concerned. Mom says people just didn’t get me. I figured that’s because Dad always told them I was strange.

  “Excuse me.” I cleared my throat. “Could you direct me to the chief’s office?” I took out my completed application from the bag on my shoulder, and her eyes popped.

  “Reece Logan,” she said with a sneer, and I jerked in surprise. Apparently, she did know me. She’d come to Matt’s funeral with a few other kids from junior squad. Hard to believe that was four months ago. She’d hugged my dad, kissed my mom’s cheek, and walked right past me. I figured that meant she’d heard all about my father’s version of the accident that killed Matt—and believed it.

  When she glanced over her shoulder at a group of guys in turnouts checking the equipment on Truck 3, I knew exactly what she was thinking. She probably hoped they’d pick me up and toss me out of the station for her. I saw the way her eyes scanned me from head to toe. She was cataloging. Indexing. Comparing me to Matt. When I held out my hand, she looked at it with disgust all over her face.

  I swallowed hard, searched for something, anything, to say. “You came to the funeral. You and Gage.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them, they were wet. “Yeah. We did.”

  “Thanks for that. It was…hard.” I laughed once, a short uncomfortable huff of air, and then shrugged. Understatement of the century, but what the hell are you supposed to say about your brother’s funeral?

  “Amanda? Problem here?”

  She whipped around to face the tall, thin man standing in the swath of sunlight. He took a step closer, and I recognized him. Mr. Beckett, the chem teacher from school.

  Her face hardened. “Right. Hard.” She picked up the rope bag she’d been packing and shoved it back into Engine 21. She slammed the compartment door, and I had the feeling she wished it were my head. I figured she didn’t want to know there was someone who looked this much like Matt, sounded like Matt, walking around while Matt couldn’t. When she stalked off to talk to Mr. Beckett, I knew I’d underestimated her hatred, but I couldn’t let that stop me.

  “Hey!”

  She whipped around. “What?”

  “Chief.” I waved the sheet of paper at her. “Please.”

  She pulled in a deep breath and ground her teeth together. “Go home.”

  I laughed bitterly and shook my head. Hell, hers would probably be the nicest greeting I’d ever get in this house. I stepped around her, strode to the door that led from the apparatus floor to where I figured the offices were, and prayed I’d survive this, even if it was only long enough to keep my word to my brother.

  Chapter 2

  Amanda

  He stood with the sun shimmering at his back, and I stopped breathing.

  Matt. Oh my God. Matt.

  The blood rushed from my head. The gear I was packing squirted from my hands, hitting the ground with a dull thud. I watched, dizzy, as the ghost in front of my eyes stepped out of the glare and became a living thing. Not Matt. Tall, maybe even taller than Matt, same toast-brown hair, same piercing brown eyes. But where Matt’s eyes used to glint with a bit of mischief, this boy’s eyes held something else.

  Pain.

  My heart gave a long slow roll when I realized who this was.

  Reece Logan. Matt’s brother.

  Oh crap. I shot an uneasy glance over my shoulder where the guys on Truck 3 checked their equipment, but the lieutenant wasn’t with them. And then I remembered he wasn’t on-shift on Wednesdays. Is that why Matt’s brother was here—because he knew his father wouldn’t be? I looked away, really wanting to avoid getting sucked into somebody else’s family drama, but it was too late. He drifted closer to me, stood so close I could feel the anxiety radiating off him in waves.

  Damn it, when he spoke, he even sounded like Matt, but without the laugh in his voice. Frowning, I looked at him again. Now that I could see him up close, I noticed his face was more angular, his lips thinner than Matt’s, and there was a tiny scar running through one eyebrow. When he took out a completed application from the bag on his shoulder, my mouth unhinged. He said something about Matt’s funeral, and I swear, I’d have blasted him between the eyes if Mr. Beckett hadn’t picked that minute to walk in, crinkling a bag of potato chips.

  He saw me talking to this boy and immediately frowned. “Amanda? Problem here?”

  Crap, crap, shit. Mr. Beckett had a strict no-boys rule.

  I quickly got rid of Reece and turned to my foster father. “Sorry about that.”

  He upended the rest of the chips into his mouth, folded up the bag, and put it in his pocket with a frown. “Who was that boy?”

  I shrugged. “A new volunteer.”

  “Do you know him?”

  Don’t lie. Do not lie. No lying is another rule. “His father’s a lieutenant here.”

  Mr. Beckett’s eyebrows shot up over his glasses. “Really? He certainly didn??
?t look twelve.”

  I shook my head. “He’s not. He’s in my grade, so he’s probably sixteen.”

  “I wonder why he’s volunteering now. What changed?”

  I didn’t wonder. I knew. “His brother got killed back in December.”

  “Ah. How tragic.” Tragic—yeah, but Mr. Beckett’s expression relaxed. “But are you sure you don’t know him personally? You seemed extremely upset speaking to him.”

  Oh, I knew Reece Logan. But I shook my head. “I never spoke to him until today.” Not a lie. “I know the lieutenant, and from what he says, he and his son do not get along. I don’t want that drama spilling over onto my squad.”

  Mr. Beckett pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at me over the rims of his glasses. “I’m not comfortable with you continuing here if there’s going to be drama.”

  Oh God. The blood in my veins froze. Junior squad was all I had—he couldn’t take that away from me. I shook my head firmly. “There won’t be. I won’t let that happen.”

  Mr. Beckett considered that for a moment and finally smiled. “Okay. Just be sure you keep things entirely professional with that boy.”

  I nearly cried with relief when Mr. Beckett turned to leave.

  “Oh, by the way…I came in to tell you I can’t pick you up tonight. Can you get a lift?”

  Yeah, from a boy. “Sure. No problem. Thanks, Mr. Beckett.”

  “What’s on the agenda tonight?”

  “Uh, we’re doing PPE.”

  He flashed a wistful smile. “Oh, that’s a fun one. Okay, have a good class. Don’t let that boy’s drama become yours.”

  Oh, count on it.

  After Mr. Beckett walked back to his car, I finished checking the equipment on Engine 21.

  “Man, got a minute?”

  I looked up and found Neil Ernst, our instructor, standing behind me, his face tense. Immediately, I snapped up straight.

  “Sure, Lieutenant. What’s up?”

  He waved a hand toward the parking lot, so I followed him out through the bay doors. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.

  I started to sweat. This was bad.

  “Um, yeah, so, the wife and I are moving to Florida. She’s got a really good job waiting down there, and yeah. We’re leaving Long Island.”

  I was nodding like I totally understood, but all I kept thinking was what about us? I took a deep breath. “What about J squad?”

  Neil shrugged. “Chief’s still making up his mind. He’ll probably ask Steve Conner to take over for me.”

  I was still nodding like some lame bobblehead toy. “Okay, so congratulations. Or good luck.” Or whatever.

  “Yeah, thanks. Um, so I just want you to know I think you’re one of the best damn cadets we’ve ever taught here. I hope you’ll continue. When you turn seventeen, you’re eligible for full volunteer status.”

  I knew that. I was planning to, assuming the Becketts didn’t ship me back into the system. “Uh, thank you.”

  “I mean it, Man. You’ve been a great leader, a great assistant, and you really know your stuff. Whoever the chief puts in charge of J squad, I know you’ll be his greatest asset.”

  My face burned under the praise, but it made me happy to hear. I worked my ass off for the squad, for LVFD. It was nice knowing that was appreciated. “So what about tonight’s class?”

  “Oh, um, yeah. So that’s why I told you our plans. I can’t stay tonight. We’ve got some hotshot real estate agent coming by tonight to appraise our place. Says she can get it sold like that.” He snapped his fingers. “So I told the chief I couldn’t do tonight’s class. But you can. You’ve done PPE before—so has everybody else. Just run the practice drills, and you’ll be fine.”

  Still nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Neil held out his hand. “Thanks, Amanda. For everything.”

  I shook my instructor’s hand. That was the only time I could remember him calling me Amanda. To everyone here, I was Man—short for Mandy, but a way of making me feel like one of the guys.

  That had been Matt Logan’s idea.

  While I watched Neil Ernst walk away, my eyes got stuck on Engine 21. It had been right there. That’s where I first met Matt Logan, two years ago. I’d been standing behind my foster father, trying not to shake in my secondhand shoes.

  “Hey. Can I help you?” he’d asked and smiled in a way that almost melted me into a puddle.

  “Hi.” Mr. Beckett shook his hand. “This is Amanda, and she’d like to join the junior squad. Right, Mandy?”

  I think I may have nodded or something. I know I hadn’t been able to manage the powers of speech. Matt Logan was gorgeous, and I wasn’t allowed to talk to boys.

  Like I said—it was a foster house rule.

  There were a lot of them. Don’t become a statistic. (There was a ton of scary statistics about foster kids.) Don’t use drugs. Don’t steal. Don’t lie. Don’t defy. Don’t skip school. I learned most of those at my first foster house. Mrs. Merodie’s. I didn’t last long there, because there was one really big rule I didn’t know about until after.

  Don’t love your foster parents.

  “You’re in luck,” Matt had said. “We’re having our meeting later. Come on. I’ll get you started.” He’d led us upstairs to the chief’s office, Mr. Beckett signed the forms, and a few minutes later, I was officially a junior squad cadet. Mr. Beckett promised he’d be back later to pick me up and left me there, having a private panic attack. What if he didn’t come back? Where would I go? Who would take care of me?

  “We meet here every Wednesday night and Saturday morning. Bring a notebook.” Matt led me into the conference room, where three boys sat with their feet on top of the table at the front of the room. “Guys, this is Mandy. She’s our newest cadet.”

  I remember trying not to cry when all three boys eyeballed me. They were so different. One looked like he was twenty, tall and hairy and muscular. Another looked like a fire hydrant—short, wide, no neck. And the third boy was a scrawny kid who looked young enough to still believe in Santa.

  Max, the muscular one, had stood up, walked over to me, and put his hand on the wall, trapping me. My heart had started racing. He leaned in close, too close. “I’m Max. Anything you need, you tell me.”

  Beside me, Matt’s tone suddenly went ice cold. “Max. Cut the playa act.”

  Max shot up one finger, ordering Matt to wait a minute, his eyes never leaving mine. “How old are you?”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t remember. Max was standing so close, I could count the whiskers that lined his jaw, and the way he smelled…God!

  “She’s fourteen, Max.”

  White teeth flashed. “So am I, so that’s perfect.”

  My eyes popped. He was fourteen? Steroids. It was the only explanation.

  Suddenly, Matt was standing between us. “Off limits.”

  Max’s lips tightened, but after a short glaring contest, he nodded and went back to his seat at the front table.

  Matt led me to a seat and handed me a huge textbook.

  “Logan!” Lieutenant Neil Ernst had barked from the doorway. “A word, please.”

  Matt headed into the hall with the lieutenant, and I tried not to shift and squirm under the stares from all those boys. A few minutes later, he was back. “Special assignment, cadets. Mandy passes all her practicals, or we all fail. Got it?”

  “What? That’s bull—”

  “Tobay. This is a squad. She is now our sister.”

  Max sucked on the inside of his cheek. “Copy that.”

  The kid who was shaped like a hydrant had shaken his head and muttered something that sounded like, “Be easier if she was a guy.” His name was Ricky, but everyone called him Bear, for obvious reasons, I suppose.

  Matt angled his head. “Then start treat
ing her that way.”

  A few minutes after that, Gage Garner walked in. The fact that I was a girl had no impact on him at all. He nodded, shook my hand, and settled in to take notes. I didn’t have a notebook. Matt ripped some blank pages out of his and slid them to me. “Got a pen, Man?”

  I shook my head, so he took one from his pocket and slid it over.

  “Can you talk?”

  Startled, I blinked at him and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Um, thanks.”

  He grinned. “Oh good. I was starting to worry.”

  Lieutenant Neil Ernst began his lesson. It had been about fire suppression. I learned later that all of the boys, except for Kevin, the scrawny kid, had begun J squad when they were twelve. They had two years of training over me. “Don’t worry, Man,” Matt had said. “We’ll get you up to speed fast. Right, guys?” There was a second or two of hesitation, but they all nodded. Whatever they felt about me didn’t matter; they liked Matt Logan. Respected him. Listened to him.

  I had been Man ever since. Matt made me one of the guys that day, made me part of a family, a brotherhood. He gave me something that was mine, something I could keep no matter what foster home I landed in. And now, he was dead, and everything had changed. Our lieutenant was moving away, the boy responsible for Matt’s death wanted to join my squad, and Mr. Beckett wasn’t sure he wanted me to stay. I realized I didn’t have a damn thing.

  The PA system crackled into life. “Jamison, chief’s office. Jamison to the chief’s office.”

  I hightailed back inside and upstairs and wondered how much longer I’d get to be Man.

  Chapter 3

  Reece

  Get ready. I’m going to get in your face.

  Halfway up the stairs that led to the station house offices, I froze.

  Why did I let Alex talk me into this? What in the name of all that was holy was I doing here? Here—Lakeshore Volunteer Fire Department, where Matt and Dad had formed their exclusive little club, where I had never been welcome?