Chapter 16

Bryce pulled the covers over his head. What was that awful sound? Was someone hammering right outside his window? No, hammering wouldn't make such a piercing screech. When the sound didn't stop after several more head-throbbing moments, he lowered the covers so he could investigate. Bad idea. He squeezed his eyes shut against the piercing rays of the sun and wondered if his head was going to fall off his shoulders. Clearly moving was worse than listening to the noise.

But the horrid squawk wouldn't give up. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't think. He tried moving again. His stomach wasn't pleased, but he managed to shift toward the edge of the bed without puking. The alarm clock. That terrible noise was coming from the alarm clock.

He fought against the fuzz that surrounded his brain. What day was it? How long had he been asleep? He squinted at the bright red numbers on the clock, fighting nausea as he tried to read them. Three minutes after five. In the afternoon? Probably, judging by the death rays the sun was shooting into his bedroom.

Why would an alarm go off at five PM? Work. Shit. He'd taken a nap before work. Or judging from the jackhammers going in his head, he'd passed out. He was supposed to be at Nathan's in half an hour. How long had the damn clock been screaming at him?

With a sickening twist of his gut, he remembered why he'd gotten drunk in the middle of the morning. He'd broken up with Toby and Matt. He'd dismissed them as nothing more than a hot fuck. He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed and immediately knew if he stood up, he'd vomit. Phone. Where was his phone?

He saw his pants on the floor by the bed. Bending over didn't seem like a reasonable proposition, but he managed to lift them with his toes. Thank God his phone was in his pocket and hadn't fallen out. He squinted at it; why the fuck was the screen so bright? Finally he managed to find the number. Kyle answered. "Nathan's. What can we do for you?"

"It's Bryce."

"Are you okay? You sound like hell."

"Yeah. Feel like it too. Not going to make it in today." He forced each word out as he fought the urge to be sick.

"Okay, I'll tell Elizabeth. Were you working till close?"

"No. Midnight."

"All right. I can stay for your shift. I need the money anyway."

"Thanks." Bryce ended the call and lay back, taking slow breaths and wishing the room would stop spinning. Was he still drunk?

The next time he woke, it was to pounding. At first he dismissed it as something happening to his head, but eventually he had to accept that it was truly coming from somewhere else.

"Bryce, you in there? You okay?"

Was that Mason? At his door?

He really didn't want to get up, but Mason sounded ready to break the door down. After he'd taken his first shuffling steps toward the door, the pounding stopped and his phone sang a line from a Beyoncé song, the obnoxious ring Mason had set for himself.

Bryce ignored the phone and kept moving toward the door, since turning around seemed too complicated. When he looked through the peephole, he saw Mason standing on the stoop, phone to his ear.

Bryce fumbled with the lock, finally managing to get the door open.

"What the fuck?" Mason said, gaping at him.

"Get in here," he growled.

"What happened to you?" Mason reiterated his question once Bryce had shut the door.

"I'm sick."

"You're hungover."

Bryce merely grunted.

"Bryce, what is going on?"

"Nothing."

"You don't get wasted in the middle of the day and call into work because of nothing," Mason insisted.

"I'm sick. Everybody gets sick."

"You are not sick."

"Fine. You're going to find out anyway. If I tell you, will you shut up and leave me to die in peace?"

"You aren't dying either. Sit down." He gestured toward the kitchen table.

Bryce sat and dropped his aching head into his hands. At least his stomach was steadier than it had been when he'd woken earlier.

"I'm going to make some coffee and toast, and you're going to tell me why a man who is the model of responsibility called into work with a half hour notice."

Bryce laid his head on the table. "I fucked everything up."

"Oh shit. It's Toby and Matt, isn't it?"

"I told them… God, I can't talk about it."

"What did you do?"

Bryce groaned. "Almost got us caught. Could have fucked all of us over."

"But you didn't?" Mason asked.

Bryce explained about the text he sent WT and then about telling Matt and Toby it was over.

"They didn't take it well?"

That was too much of an understatement to contemplate. "No."

"Bryce, there's something you're not telling me."

Overly perceptive bastard. Bryce shook his head, then regretted it. How much had he drunk anyway? "I'm done talking. Now go away."

Mason ignored him. He set coffee and toast in front of Bryce and then joined him at the table, holding his own mug of coffee. For several seemingly interminable moments, they sat in silence. Bryce broke first. "Fine. I had to make sure they would take me seriously, so I told them that we'd spent enough time fucking and I was over them."

Mason stared at him. "What the fuck?"

Bryce shrugged.

"Bryce, you've got to fix this."

"No fixing it. They hate me now."

Mason took a sip of coffee as he studied Bryce. "You know working with them isn't going to be any easier now."

"That's not the point."

"Call them."

Bryce was done. He stood up and leaned on the table. Mason scooted back, his expression showing concern and maybe a little fear. Bryce probably looked like a monster with hurt and anger filling him up until he couldn't imagine being happy again. "I am not talking about this anymore. I will call Elizabeth and apologize in the morning. I'll even take some extra shifts. It's not like I'm going to have a social life or anything."

"Bryce—"

"Not another fucking word," he snarled.

Mason banged his mug down on the table and stood. "If you want to be miserable, that's your choice, but do you have to make Toby and Matt miserable too?"

"I'd make them even more miserable if I stayed with them," Bryce growled.

"Where the hell did you get an idea like that?"

"They're too young to be trapped in a relationship that is so much work."

Mason raised his brows. "Did you ask them how they felt about it?"

"Yes. No." Bryce walked away from the table. "This is over. Let yourself out."

He stomped to the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the shower.

Bryce dragged himself through the next few days. He worked a lunch shift at Nathan's, the end of which overlapped with Mason's hours. He only talked to Mason when he had to, and he did his best to ignore Mason's reproachful looks. But not having a friend to talk to made work hell. He had to act like everything was fine because he didn't want anyone asking questions. It was a slow day, so he didn't have much to distract him. His next shift at the firehouse was even worse. Things were slow there too. Bryce thought he managed to look normal, but Matt and Toby certainly didn't. They were snappy with each other and everyone else, and they both looked like they'd been ill for days: dark circles under their eyes, pale skin, hair sticking up. Had they even showered that morning?

"What's up with those two?" WT asked that evening, tilting his head to where Matt and Toby were slumped on the couch watching a baseball game. "They're acting like little shits."

Bryce shrugged. "I don't know. Hopefully, they'll get over it." If someone else was as pissy as they were, they'd be facing disciplinary action, but Bryce knew he was responsible for their attitude, so he tried to cut them some slack, yet another way relationships fucked up the job.

"They better get over it before they cause us all to make a mistake."

Bryce nodded. He'd been worrying about the same thing.

That particular shift ended uneventfully, and Bryce survived an entire week of dirty looks and short answers from Toby and Matt. At least they didn't appear to be slacking on anything at work and they remained professional, if distant, when they were out on calls. Mason kept trying to get him to talk, and one evening Bryce spent a hellish half hour chatting with Jack and Gray during which he avoided mentioning Matt and Toby, though he was certain Mason had told them all about his idiocy.

The following Saturday, the station was crazy busy. Shortly after they arrived, Bryce's unit was called to the scene of a tractor-trailer accident. As soon as they got back to the station, they were sent out again. Around nine PM, a call came in for a warehouse fire in a run-down part of downtown.

Bryce's unit arrived at the scene at the same time as the battalion chief. One other unit had arrived ahead of them and their men were inside, attacking the flames. The chief sent Bryce and Matt to assist them.

Matt entered the building with Bryce on his heels. Bryce knew he should be in the lead, but he didn't force Matt to move behind him. The last thing he needed was an argument while they headed into a raging fire. He was close enough to grab Matt if he needed to. Slowly, they began to make their way toward the spot where the first team was working. A few feet in, they dropped to the floor and began to crawl.

"Pumper Eight. Falling back to maintain an exit. Heat is too intense."

"Confirmed, Pumper Eight," the battalion chief responded. "Keep water on the exit as long as you can. Ladder Six, make your way out of the building."

Bryce heard a creak and knew they were in trouble. The beams above them weren't going to hold much longer. He pressed the button on his radio, intending to tell Matt to turn around, but he was too late. A beam crashed down, hitting Bryce on the shoulder. He fell back, bruised but okay. "Matt!" he called. "Matt!"

No response. "Firefighter Ladder Six down. Beams fell. Searching for him now."

"Officer Ladder Six, what's your position?" the chief asked.

"Twenty feet from the southwest entrance."

"Are you injured?"

Was he? His shoulder ached but he'd be fine. "No, sir."

"How much air do you have?"

Bryce glanced down at the display. "Twenty-one hundred PSI." That would give him roughly twenty minutes. But the hotter the air and the more effort he put out, the more air he'd use, so he could easily have much less time. He reached out in front of him, searching for Matt. All he could feel was debris.

"Where is he?" Toby's panicked voice came over the radio.

"I'm going to find him," Bryce said, willing the young man to calm down.

"Firefighter Ladder Six, do not go into the building." The chief spoke in a stern, clear voice.

"Listen to the chief and stay where you are. I've got this." Bryce knew he didn't have long. He'd been keeping up with radio communication. The attack team was now simply trying to keep the exit open and the teams outside were switching to defensive mode, meaning they were now focused on keeping adjacent structures from catching rather than trying to save the warehouse.

Beep! Beep! Beep!The piercing sound had come from Matt's respirator, which was designed to send out an alarm if he stayed still for too long. All Bryce could tell was that Matt was somewhere in front of him, and he wasn't moving. "Matt! Matt!" He yelled into the radio hoping to rouse him, but there was no response. Matt's respirator screeched more loudly. If he was conscious he'd shut it off. Fuck!

Bryce began to scale the debris. It slipped and slid, but he kept going.

"Officer Ladder Six, the RIT is moving toward your location."

Bryce registered that help was on the way, but he wanted to find Matt himself. This was his fault, and he had to fix it. He should be the one who was trapped. He should never have let Matt take the lead.

Bryce slid down the far side of the pile of debris. Keeping a foot hooked over one of the heavy beams, he stretched out and felt around. He'd almost given up, thinking he'd have to move farther away from the downed beams, when he brushed something soft. Matt's glove. He inched forward and got hold of Matt's arm. "Matt! Matt!"

Matt didn't respond. Bryce ran his hands over Matt's body, checking for serious injuries. A beam lay across his ankle. He couldn't wait for the Rapid Intervention Team. More of the ceiling would come down any second. He shifted Matt into a position so he could drag him to where he hoped they would have a clear path to the exit. "Firefighter Ladder Six has been located. Bringing him out now. A beam had trapped his leg, and he's unconscious."

Getting over the debris wasn't easy, but Bryce managed it. His air wasn't going to last much longer at this temperature with him working so hard. He prayed the path to the door was still open. "Chief, can we get out the way we came?"

"Yes, the RIT is almost to you. Follow them out."

More beams crashed down behind him, but Bryce kept moving steadily, crawling with Matt balanced over his back. Finally, he was where he could stand and he put Matt over his shoulder. The Rapid Intervention Team, Ryan and Gina, two firefighters he'd worked with a few times, found them a few seconds later.

Once they were far enough from the building to be safe, Bryce sank to his knees and laid Matt on the ground. Ryan and Gina took over, checking Matt's vitals and his injured foot. Gina turned to him, ready to examine him as well, but he waved her off. "I'm fine." Now that the immediate crisis was over, his shoulder ached like hell, but he ignored it. Toby ran toward them and sank to the ground beside Matt. "Is he okay? What happened?"

"He's going to be fine," Bryce assured him, hoping to God he was right.

Ryan patted Toby's shoulder. "Don't worry. His ankle is injured, probably fractured, and he's likely got a concussion, but he'll recover."

Matt moaned and opened his eyes. "What happened?" he asked, his words slurred.

"The ceiling came down on us," Bryce answered.

Matt tried to sit up, but the paramedics pushed him back down and fitted an oxygen mask over his face.

Toby leaned closer to Matt, but Bryce laid a hand on Toby's arm, afraid Toby had forgotten where he was. This wasn't the time for them to out themselves. "It's okay. We were lucky."

"You saved him." The emotion in Toby's eyes made Bryce's chest ache.

"I just did my job. You would've done the same thing if you'd been there."

"I panicked. I couldn't think straight knowing he was in there."

Bryce wrapped an arm around Toby. Nobody would think anything of it after a scare like they'd had. "That's natural, but you kept yourself together, and if you'd been inside, you would have focused and gotten him out, just like I did."

"Did everyone else get out uninjured?" Bryce asked.

Toby nodded, and both men looked at the building. Flames rose toward the sky now, shooting through holes in the ceiling. Bryce shuddered, realizing how close they'd come to being trapped.

Matt pulled the oxygen away from his face. "I'm fine. I want?—"

Bryce put a hand on his chest to keep him from trying to sit up again. "You need to go to the hospital."

Matt shook his head. "No, I'm?—"

Gina interrupted. "Yes, you do. Even if you want to argue that you're fine otherwise, you need an x-ray for your ankle."

"I'll come with you," Toby volunteered, then looked at Bryce. "If I can, that is."

"Chief, this is Officer Ladder Six, I'd like to send one of my men to the hospital with the injured firefighter."

"Permission granted, Ladder Six."

Bryce laid a hand on Toby's shoulder. "Go with him. Make sure he's okay."

Toby nodded, his eyes glistening.