Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2) (5 page)

“Thanks for having us, Mom. Anything you need me to get done for you before we go?”

She pushes back from him but pats his cheek. “No, dear. I’m all set. Em and Vince are staying over tonight and Vince is going to help with a few things in the morning. You’re off the hook this weekend.”

Owen tips an imaginary hat at Vince, who does the same. “Well, then my work here is done,” he says, straightening and acting like a strong man, flexing his muscles.

We all give a laugh.

Then we say goodbyes to his mother, sister, and brother-in-law with promises of getting together again before the summer is over and confirm that Mimi’s coming to stay with us the night before we leave for Seattle for Travis and Lucy’s wedding.

When we get to the car, Owen opens the door to the SUV for me and I hop in. He jogs around the front of the car and climbs in on his side. Mimi, Emily, and Vince are standing on the front porch, watching us leave and waving as we pull out of the drive to make our way back to Brooklyn.

“They adore you,” he says simply as he reaches over the console and takes ahold of my hand. He pulls it to his lips and kisses my knuckles but doesn’t let go of my hand as we drive out of his old childhood neighborhood. “What did you think of my family? My mom didn’t bore you too much with all of her garden talk, did she?”

I mesh my fingers with his, watching our fingers intertwine. “No, no. Not at all. She is so sweet. I actually found what she was saying interesting. And she’s going to bring me some veggies when she comes over before we all head to Seattle.” I look over at him, wanting to ask what was up with Emily but almost afraid to. Oh well, that hasn’t stopped me before. “So, what were you and Emily talking about after lunch? It looked pretty intense.”

He drops my hand and places his on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. I know this breath. It’s the ‘humor Olivia but don’t say anything at the same time’ breath.

“We were just talking about the house and stuff that needs to get done. Nothing big.”

I don’t believe him. Not at all. But what I know is that he obviously doesn’t want to tell me what they were discussing and we’ve had such a nice day that I don’t want to push it.

“Oh, okay.”

We sit in the car in silence for the next many miles. Before I know it, I’m drifting off as I watch the Connecticut countryside fly by my window.

OLIVIA PUTS HER HAND on mine and stands from the table to carry our plates to the kitchen. I move to help, but she stops me. “No, you stay and catch up with your sister. I’m going to help your mom with the dishes. I don’t mind. Really.”

I nod, smile weakly, and take a seat. While Olivia leaves to help my mom with the dishes, I’m left at the table with Vince and a somewhat put-off Emily.

“Sooo, she hasn’t put two and two together about your nightmares, huh, Owen? No offense, but what kind of psychologist is she that she hasn’t noticed?” Emily says flippantly.

“Watch your mouth.” I growl. “You don’t know anything about her, and for you to insinuate that she’s not brilliant at her job pisses me off.” I ball my hands into fists in frustration, my jaw set tight. “Listen,” I sigh heavily, “she’s witnessed her fair share of my episodes. Olivia has asked me about them repeatedly. My first response was to slam the bathroom door in her face and close her off. Granted, it wasn’t the classiest of moves, but when the dust settled, she just offered to listen when I was ready.
When I was ready
, Emily,” I stress. “It’s just not something we talk about.”

Emily grabs my forearm that is resting on the table. “Think this one through, Owen. She’s a psychologist…specializing in PTSD…in servicemen. You’ve been given a gift, O. Olivia can help you if you just give—”

“No, Em,” I bite out. “I don’t want to burden Olivia with my shit. I need to be strong…be a man. I just need to get over this fucking thing. My nightmares make me weak and I don’t want her to see me like that.”

“If there’s any one person you should be talking to about this, it’s Olivia,” Vince chimes in. “I’m going to get all sappy on you here for a minute, but for a multitude of reasons, she should be the person you confide in about this stuff. You keep pushing her away and not letting her in, she’s going to walk. She’s too smart to put up with your shit.”

Leave it to Vince to tell it like it is.

“You need to let her in, Owen. You need to talk to her about this,” Emily reiterates.

I tilt my head toward the ceiling and close my eyes in frustration. Then I look back at Emily. “It’s my problem to deal with. I’m handling it.”

“Of course you are!” Emily sits back abruptly in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because that’s been going so well for you over the past three years, hasn’t it?”

“Keep your voice down, Em,” I say, looking toward the kitchen and finding that Olivia is deep in conversation with my mom.

I know that I need to tell her about my nightmares. Just talking about them brings me right back to that day –the reason for my nightmares.

Three years earlier

“Okay! Everybody listen up! We’ve got a report of two children trapped on the third floor of the building!” Walt Chapman, the commanding officer on the scene, shouts. “Maxwell! Wilson! You’re in the front looking for those kids!” he barks, looking at Tanner and me, and juts his thumb over his shoulder. “Jackson and Watts, you’re on the roof. Simpson and Lewis, you go around to the rear. Let’s get these kids out safe!” he yells.

“What about the parents?” I ask, strapping on my helmet. “We just looking for the two?”

“Neighbors saw the mom leave the building about an hour ago. Presumably, she left after putting the kids to bed for the night. The rest of the building’s tenants are accounted for,” the commanding officer answers. “Find those kids.”

The flashlights on our helmets do little to penetrate the wall of smoke as my partner, Tanner Wilson, and I enter the main door of the building. There is smoke to the floor as we climb the first flight of stairs together. We feel our way up the wall to the first floor. Tanner and I decide to split up to cover more ground in less time. We’ll get shit from our C.O. about this, but we’re running out of time. Our tanks only hold 4500 PSI of air. That’s roughly less than an hour of time we’re able to breathe and that’s not taking into consideration any extraneous things that may happen that would cause us to breathe harder and use up more valuable air. Being that we’ve nearly taken fifteen minutes to clear the first landing, I tell Tanner that I’ll head up to the third floor while he searches the second floor.

“Engine 119, this is Maxwell. I’ve reached the third floor. Commencing search,” I call on my radio. With a little help from my halligan bar and my shoulder, I bust open the third-floor apartment door. “Holy shit,” I exhale.

Greeting me are boxes stacked four high filled with clothes, books, toys, DVDs, and various junk lining the walls and hallways. Bags stuffed with garbage are scattered throughout the apartment. Food scraps, pizza delivery boxes, and cartons litter the kitchen countertop, and dirty dishes are piled high in the sink. Finding anything in this apartment would be a challenge all on its own. This woman is a hoarder.

“Fire department!” I yell out into the smoke-filled room. “Anybody here?” I search around the stacked boxes as I make my way down the tight hallway.

The first door to my right is a bedroom and it’s cluttered with clothes all over the floor. I call out into the dark room again, hoping for a response, but I hear nothing. I check the closet, under the bed, and behind the door and hanging curtains. The smoke is so dense that I need to feel my way around the room
—
and it’s taking forever.

Tanner radios to me that his floor is clear. It was a vacant apartment and he quickly did a sweep of the unit to confirm no one was in it. I tell him what I’m dealing with on the third floor and he radios back that he’s on his way to assist.

When I’m finished with the bedroom and make my way to the hallway, Tanner is there. “Someone actually lives here?” he questions.

I shrug my shoulders and tell him that I’ll take the next door while he checks out the one across the hall. He nods in return before we continue our search. When I open the door, I see that it’s the kids’ room. My heart surges with adrenaline.

“Anyone here? It’s the fire department! We’re here to help!” I yell. If the kids are going to be in the apartment, there’s a good chance they’re in this room.

Twin beds line each wall, and I pat the sheets from the headboard to the footboard, hoping to feel something. I sink to my knees, flashing my light under the bed, but I’m met with toys. I sweep the floor beneath with my pole for good measure to ensure no one is hiding under the bed. I turn on my knees and search the opposite bed the same way. Nothing. I crawl to the closet, but only empty hangers and a few hanging clothes are there. The room is empty.

I get to my feet and walk toward the door. Tanner’s muted helmet light illuminates the smoke. I take a few steps closer to him.

“I can’t… I can’t see anything! I can’t find them!” My yells are muffled by my breathing apparatus. The dark of the night combined with the thick, putrid black smoke permeating around us makes it difficult to see. “Your rooms?” I ask.

Tanner shakes his head and gives me a thumbs-down. He has come up empty too.

The Engine Company has been dousing the building with water, but the oven-blasting heat and steam are intense. I’m so fucking hot, but I refuse to give up looking for the kids.

BOOM!

A deafening blast rocks the brick building, causing Tanner and me to lose our balance.

“What the fuck was that!?” Tanner yells.

“I’m guessing it’s a gas line!” I scream back. “Come on. We need to find those kids!”

“They’re not here, Owen!” he shouts, exasperated. “We’ve looked in every room! We’ve searched the entire building. We need to get the fuck out of here!”

Our radios begin to squawk. “Wilson! Maxwell! Get out. Now! The structure is compromised! Get out! Do you copy?” our commanding officer, hollers through the line.

“One more room!” I cough out as the pass alarm on my bunker jacket starts to go off at the same time that my bell alarm starts to ping. “Fuck!” I yell.

My air gauges tell me I only have 2000 PSI left of breathable air. When I look over at Tanner, he’s looking at his gauges. His air supply is getting low too. We don’t have much air left and need to vacate the building. Soon.

“Do. You. Copy. Wilson?!” my radio screams.

Ignoring my commanding officer, I turn to recheck another room in the apartment.

Tanner grabs me by my bunker jacket, halting me from moving farther. He swings his head toward the exit in a nonverbal command. I pause and eventually nod my head.

“Copy that. We’re evacuating now,” I confirm. I shake my hand toward the exit, and Tanner turns to follow the instruction.

As we clear the apartment door, my gut stops me in my tracks, telling me to look one more time in the kids’ room. Uncertainty chokes my throat with panic.

“Wilson!” I yell to get his attention. “I’m checking the kids’ room one more time.” I point toward the apartment door, indicating that I’m going back for another look.

“Don’t do it, man! Our air is low and the building’s
—
”

Before Tanner can get the rest of the sentence out, a portion of the stairwell above us collapses, raining burning wood, lath, and plaster on us.

Jumping back, I fall with a thud inside the third-story apartment and land awkwardly on my air tank. I can feel my back crack from the weight of my body pressing on the tank which is lodged along my spine. All the air leaves my lungs and the pain is excruciating. I rapidly blink my eyes as I quickly assess my condition and try to catch my breath. I’m fine, but this is really going to hurt in the morning. I roll to my side and slowly get back onto my feet. I look around for Tanner, who jumped in the opposite direction from me when the stairwell caved in.