Nothing Left to Burn

  “Nineteen, Lieutenant.”

  “Acosta?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Good, good. Okay, Reece. We already know how you did, but let’s share with the class.”

  Oh crap.

  “Eleven.”

  John’s lips curled into a smirk. “Really. You’re sure?” He grabbed a marker. “Why don’t you come up and show the rest of the squad your math?”

  Logan’s eyes narrowed, but he stood up, smoothed his hair back, and faced the whiteboard. He wrote down 2216, followed by the ending pressure level, and divided by the duration of our game.

  Yes! I almost punched the air. The tanks were rated at 2216 PSI. At that pressure, they held a volume of 1,270 liters, which could be consumed at a rate of 40 liters per minute to give the user about thirty-one minutes of usable tank time. But that was unloaded respiration. For Logan’s tank to empty after only eleven minutes, that meant he used well over a hundred liters of oxygen per minute.

  “Eleven minutes.” John shook his head. “You won’t make it past the front door.”

  My simmering temper boiled over. “Max, tell Reece how long it took you to improve your tank conservation skills and break the fifteen-minute barrier.”

  Max squirmed in his seat. “Uh, well, I’d say maybe six months.”

  “Bear, how about you?”

  “A year.”

  John glared at me from the front of the conference room, but I wasn’t backing off. “Okay, Man, you made your point. Happy, Peanut? You got a girl fighting for you.”

  Reece turned red but never said a word.

  The rest of our session passed quickly, and Mr. Beckett was back by 11:45 to pick me up. When he saw Lieutenant Logan still lecturing, he turned for the apparatus floor, where one of the guys was always willing to talk firefighting with him.

  “Okay, cadets, that’s it for the day. Wednesday night, we’ll cover rescue procedures.”

  My squad stood up and filed out of the room.

  “Man, a minute, please.”

  I turned back. “What’s up, Lieutenant?”

  He got right into my face, leaned down, and jabbed a finger at me. “Do not ever take over my class like this again, is that clear?”

  Oh my God, was he serious? I stood up straight and stared him down. “Lieutenant, you walked out of the room with no direction and no explanation. Every cadet in this room voluntarily gives up their Saturday morning to learn from a seasoned veteran. All I did was respect their time.”

  He stared back, and finally, his lips twitched. “The dodgeball game was brilliant. Your idea?”

  “Thanks. No, it was Bear’s.”

  “Still brilliant.” John smiled, tight-lipped, and stepped back.

  “I’ll tell him you said so.”

  John nodded. “Ah, about Reece.”

  Here we go. I wondered when he’d get to the point.

  “Reece…dabbles. He’s not serious about firefighting. I appreciate everything you and the squad are doing for him, but don’t invest too much time in him. He’ll get bored and move on to, I don’t know, model rockets or something.”

  Too much time…suddenly, I was a little kid again, hearing Dmitri scold my mom. You spend all day with your daughter. Is it too much to ask that she be fed and put to bed by the time I come over so I can spend time with just you? I snapped out of the past, and my temper flared. “Lieutenant, Reece is trying really hard. Why don’t you try just as hard and see how things go?”

  I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room.

  Chapter 9

  Reece

  I’m doing this now because it matters. It always mattered, but I didn’t know how much, not really, until after Matt died.

  My muscles screamed and my lungs burned, but I wanted Amanda to know I was grateful to her and to the whole squad for everything they’d been doing to help me, so I hung back after I reached the main corridor to wait for her.

  “Reece…dabbles,” I heard Dad say. I stepped closer to the door and listened to him tell her not to waste too much time on me. But Amanda’s whole body changed. With her lips pressed into a tight line, she drew herself up tall and straight and got right into Dad’s face.

  “Lieutenant, Reece is trying really hard. Why don’t you try just as hard and see how things go?”

  My jaw fell open, and I gripped the door frame to stay upright. She’d…oh my God, she hadn’t just spoken back to Dad this time. She’d actually contradicted him. And never blinked.

  I was still standing there, shell-shocked, when she strode out of the conference room without even looking at me. I double-timed it to catch up.

  “Amanda, wait!”

  I swore I heard her growl, but she didn’t slow down until she reached the firehouse kitchen at the far end of the corridor. She ripped open the refrigerator door, pulled out a plastic-wrapped sandwich, and then slammed the door so hard, bottles rattled inside.

  She put the sandwich on the stainless-steel counter that lined one wall and stared at it, hands gripping the edge. The room was empty except for us and the smell of stale coffee that clung to the air.

  “Amanda?” I took a step closer.

  She blew out a loud breath but didn’t turn. “Go away.”

  I blinked. I couldn’t leave. “You stood up to him.”

  “I was stupid.” She snorted and rolled her eyes.

  “You were amazing! I never saw anybody talk to him that—”

  “I was stupid!” she shouted and pounded a fist on the counter.

  No. No, not stupid. Brave.

  Amazingly brave.

  Braver than I was.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets. The folded-up note pricked a finger, and I looked away. Amanda continued to seethe at her sandwich, so I nodded once and backed off—one step, then two.

  Then I stopped.

  I turned and cleared my throat. “Amanda, I’m sorry. For all of this. Being here, sticking all of you with babysitting duty when I know you hate me. And for getting you in any kind of trouble with my dad. I’m sorry, and I’m grateful to you for all of it. Especially the part where you stood up to him. I’ve…” I’ve never been able to do that. Not once. “I usually make things worse when I try to talk to him so I…don’t.”

  She made a sound of disgust, and I looked away. You’d think I’d be used to that reaction by now. I could take it from Dad. And I could take it from the people at school. But not from her.

  “I don’t get you, Logan,” she said as I turned back for the door.

  I stopped and waited for her to make her point.

  “You have parents. Two of them! You have a home you get to stay in no matter what. And yet, you show up here, get everyone all sucked up into your funnel…” She trailed off, spinning her hand in the air.

  I opened my mouth, about to tell her all about the hell that was my home, but then I saw her eyes. She lifted them, and I didn’t see any of that anger now. I saw something that made her look desperate.

  And I realized mine weren’t the only problems in the world.

  “You said Mr. Beckett’s your foster father,” I began, and her eyebrows lifted. “What happened to your parents?”

  Her lips went tight for a second. Then she nodded and scraped a chair out from under the long table in the center of the room and sat down with the sandwich, still in its plastic wrap. “It was just my mom and me. I never met my dad. It was fine when I was very little. We didn’t have much, but what we had was enough. For me, at least.” Her hands curled into fists. “Mom met a guy. Dmitri,” she added with a roll of her eyes and a sneer of disgust. “She was crazy about him—I mean full-out, I’d die for you in love with him. That didn’t mean shit to Dmitri—except for one thing. He knew she’d do whatever he wanted her to do. Anything he asked.”

  Oh God. My chest tightened, an
d my stomach pitched.

  “He never touched me,” she said, and I swore my knees buckled. I grabbed a chair and sat opposite her. “But he didn’t like me around, always in the way, always ruining his plans, always seeing right through him.”

  I swallowed hard, not liking the direction this was taking. “What happened?”

  “He got her involved in some illegal scheme. Framed her for all of it while he got off lightly when it all went bad. She’s in prison.”

  “Jesus.” I wanted to hold her, to wipe away the purple circles under her eyes, but I couldn’t. “How old were you?”

  “Nine.” She unwrapped the sandwich and offered me half. Neither of us ate.

  “Will you see her again?”

  She huffed out a laugh. “She wants me to visit. But I won’t. She’ll get out when I’m nineteen. Maybe I’ll see her then.”

  Ten years? Holy shit. “I’m sorry.”

  She looked up at me and then away, shrugging. “Not your fault.”

  We both went silent, picking at sandwich halves, listening to the hum of the firehouse refrigerator and the clang of gear out on the apparatus floor.

  “What color are your eyes?” I blurted when the silence grew unbearable.

  She blinked up at me. “What?”

  “I can’t tell what color they are. Been driving me crazy.”

  She looked away, pulled off a tiny piece of the sandwich, and popped it into her mouth. “Hazel. They’re just a light brown, really, but they look different depending on what I wear.”

  She was wearing her blue station uniform shirt. “They’re…” I coughed and tried again. “They’re really nice.”

  “Thanks.” Amanda looked around the room and then settled back on me. “Yours are nice too.”

  We both took bites of our sandwich halves at the same time.

  As you do when you desperately need a reason to Shut. The Hell. Up.

  She crumpled up the plastic wrap and pitched it into the trash can by the rear door. “Listen, the only reason I told you about my mom and stuff is so that you get over it.”

  I frowned. Get over it? How the hell did you get over your father hating your guts and wishing you’d never been born?

  She ignored me and continued making her point. “I get it. You think your dad hates you, so you joined J squad to make him love you.”

  I opened my mouth to deny it, but of course, she was right.

  “Logan, take it from me—you can’t make anyone do anything. All you can do is live your life your way, so if you’re doing this—any of this—for him, tell me now.”

  “What if I am?” When she scowled at me, I plunged ahead. “Did you sign up because you actually wanted to be a firefighter or because one of your foster parents made you do it?” I didn’t wait for her answer. “What about the others?” I got what she was trying to say. But I also knew most kids joined J squad because of their family.

  She put up both hands. “You’re right. I joined the squad two years ago because Mr. Beckett thought it would be cool—not me. And just like I’m telling you right now, somebody took me aside and asked me to decide if I wanted this for me. It wouldn’t have been fair to the rest of the squad to train me only to see me quit after I broke a nail.”

  I thought about what she said. Who was I really doing this for? Not Dad; nothing I did was or ever would be good enough for him.

  I was doing this for Matt. Because I owed him. Because he asked. Because I fucking promised.

  “How long did it take you to make that decision?” I finally asked her.

  She crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair, and angled her head. “Not long. Couple of weeks, maybe.” And then she smiled, and it made me smile too. “It gets inside you.” She patted her chest, right over her heart. “Now, there’s nothing I want more.”

  Her eyes, those strange, impossibly colored eyes, suddenly went wide, and she pushed away from the table. “I gotta go.”

  I watched her disappear out the door to the main corridor, knowing she’d just lied to me.

  There was something she wanted more.

  But what?

  The loudest sound I had ever heard shattered the air before I could think about it anymore.

  The tones!

  I leaped from the table and hurried to the apparatus floor, forgetting all about my jellied leg muscles. I’d never seen the trucks dispatched. My heart pounded, and I caught up to Amanda, standing out of the way as the crews from Truck 3, Engine 21, and Rescue 17 donned turnouts and climbed aboard.

  Engine 21, Truck 3, Rescue 17. Residential fire. Second alarm. 78 Juniper Court. Trapped occupants.

  “Please, please let this not be another arson,” one of the men muttered as he swung onto the truck.

  Goose bumps rose on my arms. Trapped occupants? Arson? God. The apparatus bay doors rolled up with a rumble I could feel in my stomach. Lights and sirens on, the trucks rolled out, Chief Duffy’s official car in the lead.

  Nobody hesitated.

  Every person on those trucks was a volunteer. A second alarm meant this fire was big and dangerous. People were trapped.

  And nobody hesitated.

  Dad was on Engine 21. Warmth slowly spread from the center of my chest to the rest of my body and it took me a few minutes to recognize it.

  Pride.

  I watched the trucks disappear down the street, only then realizing Amanda was next to me. “I’m in, Amanda. All in.” I didn’t stop to analyze it. The words left my mouth, and I knew in my heart that I meant it. I wanted this. Not because of Dad or Matt, but because of me. Laughing, I grabbed her arms and planted a smacking kiss on her lips.

  She went still.

  Holy shit. What did I do? I was just about to let her go when she leaned in and kissed me back.

  Really kissed me.

  It didn’t last long. A whisper. A sip. A breath. But it damn near rocked my socks off.

  She jerked out of my arms like a rubber band snapping. I was still grinning like a moron. And Amanda?

  She looked like she’d been gut-shot.

  “Amanda!”

  Mr. Beckett’s sharp voice reverberated around the empty apparatus floor. A look of pure panic crossed her face, but she managed to erase it by the time she turned to face her foster father. Without a word, she walked away.

  ***

  By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was crawl into the shower and then bed—who cared what order?

  Tucker had other ideas.

  He barked and circled me and leaped up to kiss me.

  Kiss me.

  Jesus H. Kristofferson, I’d just kissed Amanda Jamison. I was no expert, but I was pretty sure she’d kissed me right back.

  It probably meant nothing. She didn’t even like me, not really. She was only helping me because the chief made her. Amanda Jamison was hot, no doubt about it. But me? I was nothing special at all. Tucker was the only one truly happy to see me. And Alex.

  Amanda never smiled at me—not really. Not the way she did on that first day, when she thought I was Matt.

  Oh fuck.

  That explained the kiss.

  The dog cried by the door, and I sighed. I fastened the leash to Tucker’s collar and dragged myself out to walk him. But Tucker had a mission. He pulled and tugged on the leash, hauling me down the street. It took me half an hour to get him back in the house, where he proceeded to give me the canine side eye until I shut myself in the bathroom.

  I felt a little better after I showered and popped a few ibuprofen tablets. I’d just kicked back with the remote control when a knock on the front door sent Tucker into a frenzy.

  “Hey, Alex. What’s up?”

  He raised both eyebrows as he bent over to greet my dog. “You haven’t looked at your phone.”

  Aw, shit. I hadn’t.

/>   I pulled it out of my pocket. Four text messages about the movie we were supposed to see. It started…hell. Half an hour ago. “Jeez, man, I am so sorry.”

  He shrugged and continued scratching Tucker’s head. “When I didn’t hear back from you, I considered seeing the movie alone, but I look forward to our spirited debates over the plot too much for that.”

  I winced. “Did you buy our tickets?”

  He hesitated a moment and then shrugged again.

  Fuck. I pulled out my wallet and handed him enough to cover his ticket and mine, to make up for my mistake. He stared at the cash for a moment and then nodded.

  Alex was between jobs again. He had a hard time staying employed. He was smarter than the average bear—a lot smarter—and found it almost impossible not to improve processes at his various places of employment, or worse, tell his bosses they were doing it all wrong. Despite his genius IQ, people were surprisingly resistant to a teenager showing them how to improve kitchen efficiencies by thirty percent or how to slash costs simply by reducing the temperature in the dining room.

  I wasn’t working either. After Matt died, there didn’t seem to be much point, since I wouldn’t be here much longer.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  Alex gave me a tight-lipped smile. “As joining the junior squad was my suggestion in the first place, it wouldn’t be logical to blame you for your forgetting your other obligations.”

  “Logical. Uh-huh.” I faked a smile because the forgetting your other obligations part stung a bit. “You’re not an obligation, Alex.”

  His eyes snapped to mine and then away. He wasn’t buying this, and I was way too tired to think of ways to convince him. So I opted for a change of subject. “How about some Netflix?”

  To my total surprise, he shook his head. “No. You look terrible. I’ll leave.” But instead of heading for the door, he crouched down to Tucker’s level and continued scratching my dog’s head.

  I sat back down, wincing at the muscle pain. “So aside from waiting for me, what did you do today?”

  Alex took out his ever-present tablet, swiped the screen, and nodded. “Ah. I finished my app, submitted an idea for a research paper to Dr. Bronson, and won six chess games.”