2. Nick

Nick

The other sideof the bed was cold.

Nick sighed, closed his eyes, and rolled onto his back. Geoff's side of the bed would never be warm again. His gentle, teasing kisses and caressing hands would never again awaken Nick. And Geoff's heart-melting smile would never again be the first thing Nick saw every morning.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut at the prickling threat of tears.

It had been a little over two years, but it still felt like yesterday that Geoff had kissed him goodbye before being tragically taken away from him. Geoff had gone for his regular morning bike ride before work, and a careless driver had struck him, killing him instantly. For that, at least, Nick had been grateful Geoff hadn't suffered.

A wet nose nudged at his hand, reminding him he was still alive and needed. That Geoff would want him to live, not just exist. But existing was all he'd been able to do since that fateful day.

"Okay, Roo," he mumbled. "I'm getting up."

Roo was a massive German shepherd, golden retriever, Doberman mix that he and Geoff had rescued as a puppy four years ago. She'd been part of a horrible neglect and hoarding case, and they'd hoped she'd been young enough to not remember much of the horrors of her first weeks on earth. Nick and Geoff had showed her how much she was loved from the moment they brought her home.

Family and friends had been there for him after Geoff died, making sure he was doing okay and that his freezer was never short of ready-to-eat dinners, but Roo had been the one to comfort him through his darkest hours with her soulful amber eyes and steady, quiet presence. She gave him a reason to keep getting up in the mornings. To keep facing each new day in a world that had lost its shine without his husband at his side.

He kicked off the covers and staggered into the bathroom to take care of his morning ablutions before throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He stopped in the kitchen for a glass of water before heading to the mudroom. Roo followed him the entire way, watching with hopeful eyes while her tongue lolled, and her tail did a slow wag.

"Ready for a run, girl?"

Roo barked and did a little spin in answer, always excited for their regular pre-dawn three miles. Smiling, he put on his shoes and a light jacket before attaching the leash to her collar. The chill of the late April morning woke him up faster than a cup of black coffee. Nothing helped get him into a functioning frame of mind for the day better than running off the suffocating blanket of grief that he woke up with each morning.

The route they ran every day was the same, taking them a few blocks across town, where they picked up the Boulder Creek Path and continued up into Boulder Canyon. The gurgling of the creek that hugged the trail, the trees full of birds singing their cheery, new-day welcome, and the rhythmic pounding of his feet had a way of easing his mind enough to face another day without his other half.

Back home, he took a quick shower, dressed in his station wear for training, fed Roo, and sat down to a cup of coffee and a peanut butter-smothered bagel while he mentally prepared for the day ahead. The routine was the same, whether he was going to work at the station, or to the center to teach, and it helped keep him sane.

Today, a new crew of firefighting recruits would arrive at Boulder's fire training center, where he was one of four instructors. He'd joined the fire service right out of high school, and thirteen years later he still couldn't imagine doing anything else. The job was both physically and mentally demanding, and too often heartbreaking, but every person he'd helped save made it all worth it. He'd felt like he'd made a difference and that was what he'd loved most about the job.

When the new training center opened near the Boulder Reservoir, he'd signed on as one of their training officers. Being a part of bringing up the next generation of firefighters was a way of giving back and ensuring the new recruits were as prepared as they could be when they entered the service full time. Now, though, the hours spent working and training kept him occupied and exhausted enough that he didn't dwell on the missing part of his heart. Not too much, anyway.

"Okay, Roo." Nick stood and put his plate and cup in the dishwasher. "Time for me to go to work."

Roo was on her feet and waiting at the back door, tail wagging, when he turned around. Nick grinned, giving her a little pet behind the ears before opening the dog door.

"Behave yourself today!" he called out as the tip of her tail disappeared behind the door flap.

Gathering his gear, he locked up and was halfway down the street before he remembered he was training today. The fire station he worked out of was less than a mile's walk from home, but he needed to drive to the training center at the Boulder Reservoir. He sighed and turned around, berating himself for letting his mind dwell so deep on his loss again.

He opened the garage, throwing his bag onto the passenger seat of the truck as he climbed in. He started the engine but sat there for a minute while the vehicle warmed up, wondering if those moments where grief hit him so hard he forgot what he was doing would ever lessen.

Maybe he should call his therapist. Even if orders hadn't come from his fire chief to see someone for help with his grief, he'd have gone, anyway. Too many people depended on him to be on top of his game, from those he worked with who should never have reason to doubt that he'd have their backs to those they rescued and helped on the worst days of their lives. But the thing was, at work, he was laser focused. It was outside of the job, in the quiet hours without distraction, where he struggled.

The sun crested the horizon and painted the Front Range Mountains and the Flatirons in a warm, peach-pink glow, when Nick arrived at the command center at half-past six.

"Mornin', Nick," James Poverly, fire captain and lead training instructor at the center, greeted with a quick glance.

He sat at one of three desks facing the wall left of the door, tapping away on a computer keyboard. A large dry-erase board with schedules and last-minute info for the day ahead hung on the wall above the desks.

"Morning, Cap." Nick nodded as he passed by, crossing the space and dropping his bag in the small change room at the back of the command office.

The rectangular-shaped office was large enough to hold a dozen people, with a conference table at one end that was flanked on each side by far-too-comfortable couches—which Nick knew for a fact because he had napped on those couches more than once, as did most every training officer—and overlooked the training yard through floor-to-ceiling windows.

Nick poured himself a cup of coffee at the kitchenette at the back of the space, perpendicular to the row of desks, and then walked over to look out the window. The yard was quiet as the shadows of night slowly receded, but soon it would be a flurry of noise and action.

"No lunch again?" Cap glanced over his shoulder; his brows furrowed.

How was it that Poverly always noticed when Nick didn't bring a lunch? It was as if the man had eyes in the back of his head.

Nick shrugged. "I'll grab something from the food truck later."

"You really need to eat better than that."

Nick frowned. The food truck that came by daily at noon on the nose boasted a menu with delicious and healthy food. All much better than anything he could make for himself. But he was saved from having to respond when the other half of the four-person instructor team arrived.

Lieutenant Sabrina Verlice from Boulder Station 7, who was also one of his best friends, entered first, followed by Firefighter óscar Capmany from Boulder Station 4, who'd joined the service the same time as Nick had.

"Hey, guys," Sabrina greeted, her voice still groggy because she'd probably rolled out of bed ten minutes before she had to leave.

Nick grinned. She was a kick-ass firefighter, but she loved her sleep like a bee loved nectar.

Sabrina unloaded two large food containers into the fridge before disappearing into the change room. She plopped down on the couch when she returned and patted the cushion for Nick to join her. She leaned close when he sat and whispered, "Jenny made way too much for dinner last night, so I brought leftovers for you."

Nick bit back a sigh.

"Rina. You know you two don't need to keep feeding me."

He appreciated how Sabrina and her wife looked out for him. But the feeling that he couldn't take care of himself without Geoff was starting to rankle. So, maybe he wasn't doing a great job at it. He'd loved cooking for Geoff and always trying new recipes, but without him Nick didn't see much reason to put in the effort anymore. These days his culinary skills went as far as what he could pop into the microwave, but he didn't need to be watched over so much. So maybe he sometimes forgot what he was doing while doing it, and maybe he was still grieving, but he wasn't going to break down. He'd already done that in private. And though he could admit he wasn't eating a lot, or overly healthy, he was eating.

But he wasn't fool enough to turn down a real home-cooked meal. "What did she make?"

"Knew it." She laughed. "Teriyaki chicken stir-fry."

"You'd better have brought enough for all of us," Capmany said as he put his lunch in the fridge before pulling out a chair at the end of the conference table.

"Please." Sabrina snorted. "You should share with us. Raquel could be a Michelin-rated chef with her skills. I don't think she knows how to make a crap meal."

Nick agreed. Invites for dinner at óscar and Raquel's house were much coveted amongst the crew.

"Okay, team," Poverly pushed back from the desk and stood to address them. "We have a few things to go over before heading down to the training yard. We have twenty new trainees who are all on the blended online-onsite program. They're coming in with book smarts, so we need to make sure they translate those smarts into action. We'll do the crawl-walk-run model with them."

"You want us to split them up into fives and take them through the courses, or do an open house style?" Sabrina asked.

"Let's split them up for the crawl basics," Poverly said. "We'll reassess when they hit the walking stage. We have a professional minor league hockey player in the mix this time, too, with the hockey career program. Rayne Hamilton from the Boulder Blitz."

"Oh, I know who he is," Capmany said with excitement in his voice as he leaned forward in his chair. "He's a big guy. Used to be a real bruiser. Not so much anymore, but he still lands some pretty heavy hits on the ice. You should have seen the hit he put on the Corsairs' defenseman Kostas in their last game. That one's going to be a highlight reel special for a long time."

"As long as he keeps that to the ice," Nick said.

He didn't know Rayne Hamilton. The only hockey he watched was the Denver Mustangs, Colorado's major league team. What he knew, though, was that hockey players often made great firefighters. They understood the value of teamwork and were easier to teach because they'd had years under the guidance of their coaches. Occasionally they'd get a pro athlete who didn't check their ego at the door, but those ones didn't make it to the service. Firefighting demanded a level-headed personality because ego and fire rarely mixed well. Fire would always win that battle.

After Poverly wrapped up their morning status meeting, they all donned matching "BCFTC Instructor" hoodies and ball caps, headed downstairs, and walked across the yard to the training area. They had multiple full-scale props and buildings for training scenarios, including a car, pressure vessel, two burn trailers, a burn building, and a four-story training tower.

The trainees had arrived, fully decked out in their turnout gear as they clustered in small groups talking animatedly amongst themselves, their excitement at starting the next phase of their schooling palpable.

Poverly called them to attention, ordering them to line up in four rows of five, military style.

"Welcome to the Boulder County Fire Training Center," Poverly addressed the group when they'd settled into formation, his voice carrying easily across the yard. "Our job here is to make sure you have the foundation, skills, knowledge, and experience to become the best firefighters you can be. The lives you save could also be your own." He paused as he looked over the trainees, and Nick knew he was making eye contact with every one of them. "We have a three-stage teaching model: crawl, walk, run. You're going to be learning the basics with an assigned training officer for the first week. This is the crawl phase. When the instructors are confident with your skills, you can progress to a self-directed open-house style through the stations. This is the walking stage. By your third week, you'll be ready for the running stage with live fire drills."

Nick scanned the trainees while Poverly continued his introductory speech. They had a diverse crowd, their expressions eager and faces bright with anticipation, but he knew from experience that only a handful of these firefighter hopefuls would make it to the service. Half of them wouldn't even make it beyond the four weeks of hands-on training they were here for. Firefighting was a dangerous and demanding career that not everyone was cut out for, and there were always a few who realized it wasn't for them during the course. Others would fail out, not having what it took to qualify no matter how hard they tried—or didn't try.

"Row one," Poverly was saying. "You'll be with Firefighter Capmany." He gestured toward óscar, and then to Sabrina. "Row two, you're with Lieutenant Verlice. Row three with Lieutenant Seavers, and row four with me. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," the trainees replied in unison.

"Let's get to it." Poverly nodded. "Fall out."

Nick stepped forward to greet his crew for the week. There were four men and one woman who was taller than all but two of the men. One of the larger men stood his ground like he owned the yard. He wasn't the biggest guy on Nick's team, but he was a solid mountain of muscle a couple inches taller than Nick's six feet, and easily a couple hundred pounds. His blond hair was set in a spiky style that made him seem edgy. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue that reminded Nick of the sky on a summer afternoon, and the excitement in them was tangible. He held his head high, chin up, shoulders back, and had an indefinable presence surrounding him that made people stop and take notice.

And Nick noticed.

Was he the hockey player? The man certainly looked athletic, and athletes—especially those with a quiet confidence—had always been his type.

And why did it feel like an effort to drag his gaze away from the man?

Nick cleared his throat as a dose of guilt chased the surprise spark of interest, the two twining into his stomach uncomfortably. He hadn't so much as glanced at another man since losing Geoff. Until now.

"Good morning," he greeted, clasping his hands behind his back and lacing his fingers so he had something to hang on to. "Like Captain Poverly said, we're here to make sure you're as prepared as possible for your future as a firefighter. This job is extremely demanding and dangerous. Every time you go out on a call, there is a potential risk to your life." Nick made eye contact with each trainee to make the point, just as Poverly had. "Knowing what to do in those situations will help keep you and your fellow firefighters safe and get everyone home to their families at the end of the day. If you have questions, no matter how inconsequential you might think they are, ask. There are always instructors at every skills station ready to help. We also have a safety officer on site in case of any injuries."

The largest of his trainees raised an eyebrow at that.

"Yes," Nick answered the unasked question in his eyes. "Even during training, there are serious risks to life and limb. We make the stations and drills as safe as possible, but we are working with live fire here, and it is its own beast."

"Has anyone ever been seriously injured during training?" the big guy asked as he shifted on his feet. "Or worse?"

"Unfortunately." Nick nodded but didn't go into details. If the trainee wanted to know, he could look up old news articles. "Improved safety measures are constantly being put in place, but as I said, fire is its own beast."

The big guy paled, and Nick mentally placed odds against him making it through the first week of training.

"Before we get started." Nick unlocked his hands and pointed at the big guy. "Call out your names."

"Chip Morin," he answered with a slight inflection, as though his name was a skill-testing question that he wasn't sure of the answer.

Nick stifled a sigh. He'd need to keep a close eye on Morin, so he didn't hurt himself or his fellow trainees. He shifted his gaze to the next trainee, the one who'd drawn his attention.

"Rayne Hamilton." He smiled, wide and genuine. His voice was deep and gruff, as though he'd smoked a pack of cigarettes on his way to the training center.

Nick's brain short-circuited for a second. He swallowed.

So that's the hockey player.

Once again, Nick had to consciously drag his gaze away, his focus divided as the rest of his trainees introduced themselves. Kelly Wash was the female trainee. Zeke Thatcher and Rex Brownlow rounded out the fivesome.

"Okay." Nick motioned toward a collection of skills testing stations. "Today we'll go through pulling and folding hose lines, throwing ladders, and forcing doors. Follow me."

The lines and ladders stations were already full, so Nick led them to the forcible entry station, where two free-standing metal doors set in metal frames stood. He picked up a set of tools that were leaning against a doorframe and held one up in each hand.

"You all know what these are?"

"An axe and a Halligan bar," Hamilton answered confidently.

The timbre of his voice set off a queasy feeling in Nick's stomach. Something that felt an awful lot like fluttering butterfly wings.

What the hell. . .

"Correct." His voice was tight, the word sounding forced and clipped. Frowning, he cleared his throat and turned to face the door. "I'll demonstrate a few ways to use the bar, and then you'll all take turns practicing solo and with a partner."