Page 22 of Love Again

“From smokejumping to a desk job?”

“It’s not exactly a desk job.”

“Well,” she says, her eyes widening, “it’s not smokejumping either.”

Suddenly, I’m tired, and the bitterness in my voice takes over. What I say next, I wish I could take back the second I hear it. “Well, that door has closed. Permanently. I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Chapter Seven

Devon

I heard it in his voice, the defeat. That’s not like Luke. When he found out the little boy had survived the fire that terrible day, he’d cried. I don’t think it was only in relief—I think it was his way of letting go of Max.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean, ‘that door is closed’? Did you get fired?”

He rises from a swivel chair. “You need to go.”

Sirens go off before she can rebut, and Keller comes banging down the hall and opens the door so suddenly I lose my grip on the doorknob.

“You,” he says, pointing to his brother, “suit up.”

Luke glances at Keller and says, “Are you sure?”

“We’re short two guys, and the closest volunteer is forty minutes away. You need to suit up now. You got sixty-five seconds. Russo, you’re in the Gulp, up front and Luke, you’re driving. Toby’ll be in the back.”

Gulp is the large engine and in less than a minute, we’re on the road, sirens blazing, the radio coughing up the address again, and Keller’s voice scratching the airways as he barks orders.

Airpacks need to be engaged at the point of arrival.

Pharmacy fire.

Keller, Dirk, and Nico were in Pokey, our engine.

Pharmacy fires are notorious for making firefighters sick. I’d never been involved in one, but I’ve studied them.

΅

It’s hot, brutal, and we’re all ordered to have our SCBA, respirators, and airpacks engaged at all times. At one point, I use my ax to knock in a countertop about to catch. Two walls collapse in a rush of flame and debris. Keller waves us to the back once he determines neither is load bearing. We have three hoses running, and despite myself, I’m impressed with Keller. The guy is a born choreographer.

It’s nearly contained when I notice something’s off. Keller comes up, and as I think he’s going to have Luke direct water along the ceiling, he takes the hose himself and waves him back. The chief. My chief.

Keller’s supposed to be orchestrating this all like a walking central station, not taking lines himself. He’s shouting something at Luke, who doesn’t seem to hear him.

And then I see it. Luke suddenly weaves on his feet and clings to his brother’s shoulder to steady himself. Keller hangs on to the hose with one hand and grips Luke’s upper arm with the other. Luke takes a step back as two more guys rush by him. Then Luke seems to get his feet under himself again and shrugs off Keller’s grip. He turns and makes his way out.

But he moves slowly, as if his legs are giving out.

What is going on?

Focus.

My respirator sighs and moans as I suck down air, trying to stay calm. I have to fight the urge to go to him.

Within the hour, it’s all out. Keller comes to me and helps me off with my helmet.

“You’re going to drive the Gulp home,” he says. “Don’t let him talk you out of it.”

“Keller, what’s going on?”