Consumed (Firefighters #1)(91)

She was terrified about her grandmother. All because some prick was in a hurry. How many times had he seen this, innocent lives interrupted by assholes who thought their shit was more important than the traffic laws.

“Danny?”

As his name came over to him on the oil-scented air, he turned and was blinded by strobe lights of the departing ambulance. When all he saw standing in front of him was a tall broad shape in turnouts and a helmet, reality bent and twisted, no longer something linear, but a convolution that doubled back on itself.

“John Thomas?” he breathed as he saw his dead twin brother before him.

“What the fuck?” Moose stepped closer. “What the hell are you talking about, Danny?”

“Sorry. Nothing. What’s up?”

Moose pointed to a flatbed truck that Danny hadn’t noticed driving on scene. “I thought you might appreciate not getting run over as that thing backs up. ’Cuz you don’t seem to have noticed it.”

As the reverse lights came on and the vehicle started coming toward Cecilia’s wreck, Danny got with the program, picking up the door he’d taken off like he’d meant to all along. It was alarming to note how much had progressed at the scene since he’d checked out. Both ambulances were gone, Duff was putting sand down over the oil leaks under the light, and the police squad cars were getting ready to release the rerouted traffic.

On the ride back to the stationhouse, he stared out the engine’s lowered window. The others were talking about the Patriots game that was coming up, and Duff was saying he needed to get laid, and Moose was talking about his Charger, and Doc was behind the wheel, humming.

Danny tracked all of it to reassure himself he was on the planet. That his brain was still capable of keeping up with reality.

As they came up to the firehouse, he didn’t know how he was going to make it through the rest of the shift—

The Subaru parked across from the bays had to be another figment of his imagination. But just in case it wasn’t, he jumped out as Doc stopped the engine to back it in.

“Where you going?” Moose called out.

Danny let his walking answer the question. And as he approached the Subaru, he was relieved when Anne put her window down.

Her eyes were sad as they looked up at him. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You should.”



* * *



The bays of the stationhouse still looked the same, still smelled the same—like baked bread, fresh engine oil, and lemon air freshener.

Anne had never expected to walk into it again, and somehow, having Soot by her side on his leash, made everything easier. Guess comfort dogs worked.

She stopped between the engine and the ladder truck and looked up at the old-school pool that they didn’t use anymore. The hole at the top, which was in the center of the bunk room, had been paneled over.

But her father had used it during his time.

“You want dinner?” Danny asked quietly. “We got plenty.”

She leveled her head and looked at him. “You have bags under your eyes. You’re exhausted.”

“I think there’s even leftover roast beef. It was too rare last night. I could cook it again for you.”

“What kind of call were you out on?”

“Car accident. Two injuries. Asshole who was speeding and missed the traffic light was fine.”

Off in the distance, familiar voices were echoing into the tall ceiling. Moose. Duff. Deshaun. None of them knew she’d come in. All of them had watched as Danny had jogged across the street to her car.

“Do you remember those pictures we used to have over there?” She nodded toward the workout equipment. “Where’d they go?”

“When we had that bathroom leak, it ruined the wall.”

“Did they get killed?” As if they were mortal. “I mean, were they thrown out?”

“Nope. They’re upstairs in the hall. We figured they’d be safer. You want to go up there?”

“Yes. I do. Will you take me? I mean, you know, now that I don’t work here and I’m not on the crew.”

“You’re always welcome. Anywhere.”

She waited for him to take the lead, and as they walked over to the old steps to the second floor, she gave the boys who were around the incident command center a little wave.

God, she felt like she was sneaking around and had just gotten caught.

“Hey, Anne,” Moose called out. “You staying for dinner?”

“Nah, I’ll leave the eating up to you.”

“Is that your dog?”

“Yup.”

Before she could get tangled into a conversation, Danny stopped at the base of the stairs and motioned the way up. As she ascended, the steps still creaked the same, the narrow walls like entering a chute.

The second floor was still bead board that had been painted a million times, and the bathroom with the shower stalls still had that frosted-glass door.

The twenty or so framed pictures had been hung down the hall, the sizes and frames different, some in color and some black and white. But she recognized her father in the five he’d been in.

God, he and Tom looked so alike. And they were all group shots of six or seven guys from the stationhouse—loose configurations that somehow her father had managed to be the center of. He’d been like that. The fulcrum around which things revolved, the leader who only appeared to be phlegmatic about the role. In reality, he must have taken that identity and its preservation very seriously.