I rub my head, but it does nothing to stop the pain from ricocheting around my skull like a rogue bullet.
Gear. I need my gear.
I steady myself against the wall and use it to keep me upright while I step into my boots and start down the stairs. I force the pain aside and squint until everything stops moving long enough to locate my gear.
Caleb and Jhett are the only ones at the station right now, and by the time I get to the truck, they are already halfway out of the garage.
“Did something happen to your head?” Caleb asks as I slide into the jumpseat beside him.
“Nope.” I tug my helmet on and wince when it presses against an unfamiliar bump on my forehead.
“That looked like it hurt.”
It did. But as far as he’s concerned, I’m in tip-top shape and ready to fight fires. I stare straight ahead. What’s a little bruise compared to the pain I caused Bobby’s family?
“I see you’re in a fantastic mood,” Caleb muses. “As always.”
I blink my eyes hard against the fading sun, fighting the fatigue threatening to claim me. “Just tired.”
Caleb cocks his head. “24-hour shifts are beasts.”
Beasts.Ha. Why is that word so funny? What if Belle had been the beast in that little fairytale? Would all the little girls dress up in hairy costumes for Halloween?
My nieces would make the cutest beasts.
I snort.
Caleb shoots me a worried look.
What’s wrong with me?
I shake my head, but the movement makes me dizzier. I grab the door to steady myself and pick a spot on the dash, then stare it down until it stops jumping around. “Have you heard anything from the academy yet?” I ask, needing a distraction.
“Nah,” Caleb says. “But I will. Go ahead and start looking for a new roomie.” Caleb punches the roof, his way of knocking on wood, and I flinch. “Jhett, you looking for a new place?”
“I’m always looking for a new place. What kind of WiFi you got?” Jhett asks me.
“I don’t have WiFi,” I grunt, but Jhett just laughs.
Caleb gives me the side-eye, but I hold my head high despite the pain each time Jhett hits a pothole. My brain jolts as he hits another one. Is he hitting them on purpose?
“I don’t want a new roommate. You were bad enough,” I say. I don’t need the extra cash, but more importantly, I don’t want the stress. I just want my space and some peace and quiet. And maybe a churro. Crispy cinnamon and sugar…mmm. I haven’t had one of those forever.
“Look alive.” Jhett brings the truck to a stop in front of an apartment building and I drag myself back to the job. “Apartment 320,” he says.
I take the number and run. There aren’t active plumes escaping the windows, but looks can be deceiving. Every situation has its own danger. I run through the door, but catch the edge with my shoulder and it slows me down. I use the railing to make up the difference and haul myself up the two flights of stairs. My pulse pounds along with my steps, preparing myself for the scene I’ll be welcomed into.
320.
I knock on the door, even though past experiences have me itching to break it down.
One Mississippi, two mississ—
The door swings open and my gaze drops to the little boy standing there with a smile and a week’s worth of chocolate smeared on his face. “Wow! You came fast!”
He’s mighty peppy for being in a burning building. Is he familiar? Or is my mind playing tricks on me?
I blink hard and grip the door frame. “Where’s the fire, buddy?” I do a quick sweep of the small apartment: no flames, no smell of smoke in the air. My heart rate decreases.
