Aden

Going through EMT training is the closest I ever want to be to the medical field. If I had my way, I’d just pull people from fires and hand them off to the paramedics. But rising flames aren’t the only thing fire-fighters respond to, and I’m keenly aware that it’s a necessity for my line of work.

Still, even if I didn’t hate that almost every medical facility was run by my family, it was so damn boring. Probably one of the more challenging classes, too. Felt like I was imprisoned with every protracted movement of the clock’s second hand.

I rub at my eyes, pen streaks creating half-hearted notes while the professor drones on. Today is mainly a pain in the ass because Logan’s discharge is approaching, and the last place I want to be when he gets to the apartment is in this suffocating lecture hall. Nerves are too on fire to sit still. Excitement magma that bubbles under an unamused composure.

If that isn’t enough collaborating against me, Captain Kohler entered the hall near the end. I assumed it was to talk to my professor—not entirely uncommon—but his stormy, suspicious eyes hadn’t left me since he settled into the comfortable recliner nestled beside her desk. I squirm uncomfortably under the gaze despite my innocence.

Maybe I was a little drowsy from the edible from last night? Or did he misplace my boredom for a hangover?

Didn’t matter. I’m not going to waste time explaining myself. The second class dismisses, I make a B-line for the door.

Captain Kohler calls for me, but my feet carry me swiftly through the exiting crowd before I break into an all-out sprint down the academy halls. Crisp autumn air welcomes me out in the student lot, caressing exposed, burning skin and filling my lungs with its refreshing touch. I almost don’t want to leave it for my car’s interior, but time is of the essence. If I don’t leave right now, I’ll be stuck in the inevitable jam of evening classes.

The bulky white Sentra sits between one of the ugly boxy trucks released two years ago and the slender build of a 2043 Toyota. Both of them are parked way too fucking close to me, so it takes me longer than usual to get in and start the engine. The familiar, gentle purr hums in the quiet of the lot before I shift into gear and drive towards my apartment.

Barely a minute has passed since I hit the freeway when my phone begins buzzing in the center console. Blue light opens above the object with Irish Cream in bold letters.

“Henry!” I greet with unbarred enthusiasm. “How’s he doing? Are you still at the hospital, or are you already at the apartment? I’m about six minutes—”

“Ha ain’t here, mate!”

My heart comes to an uncomfortable, grinding halt. Anxiety is a sludge that falls over my head and slips down my body, rising unease as it goes. Seeping into my flesh. Congregating in the pit of my stomach.

I’d been so worried about Mary being the force that stole him away again that I didn’t even consider Logan might do it himself. Lie through his teeth to throw a blanket of faux security over my eyes. Escape in the quiet of dawn when no one was around to stop him.

My hand tightens against the cool leather lying over the wheel. “What do you mean he’s not there?” I ask. I’m reaching, grabbing at any straw that will lift this crushing weight from my chest. Trying to steady my faltering voice. “Room 603, right?”

Silence. Then, a soft sigh. “I thought ya worked things out. That he’d agreed to stay put.”

My breath hitches. “Fuck,” I murmur, angling my voice away so Henry can’t hear the broken syllable.

“Maybe he’s waiting for ya at the apartment? You said he’s been there before if I’m not mistaken.”

“Doubt it,” I reply, trying to keep my head above the suffocating waters threatening to fill my lungs.

Henry grunts in response. “Easy, Aden,” he says, a gentle note amongst a cacophonous roar. “Let’s try to keep our optimism, shall we?”

My heart stutters. Unsure of whether to indulge the agony presenting itself or give in to the hope already mending what’s been broken. I nod my head, fully acknowledging that Henry isn’t aware I’ve done so, before ending the call and focusing on returning home as quickly as I can.

I don’t live far from the academy. Driving home took only a few brief minutes that now stretched into an entire lifetime. Buildings pass far slower than usual. Glass monoliths soaring into clear blue skies and the few white smudges of scattered clouds. Soft whines escape from the motor of my window as the glass sluggishly falls. Fresh air breaths against my skin.

If panic wasn’t currently trying to haul me back into despair, it would have been one of the more enjoyable rides home. For that, my mood sours even more as I park my car.

Hesitance shouts with every delayed step and rigid muscle slowing my stride towards my unit. Hope, a dim glow after the conversation with Henry, dies into nothing more than gray ash as I round the corner, my eyes darting to a vacant landing outside my door.

I pull my phone from my pocket. “He’s not here,” I rasp after the call connects. I trudge up the stairs, pressure over my chest suffocating me. This feeling is one of my most hated. And it’s been hitting me nonstop for the last few days.

“Well,” Henry starts, his voice gentle. Kind. “I’ll look around the hospital. Ask around and see if I can find the bugger.”

Trickling anger works its way through my veins. “I don’t see the fucking point,” I mutter, my blood fevered as I unintentionally slam the door behind me.

It makes a cracking sound that spins me on my heel to ensure it hasn’t broken. Splintered cracks run from the bottom corner up towards the doorknob, stopping just short of it. I don’t think it’ll need immediate fixing, but Mary’s gonna have my head when she finds out. Her predicted words of venom add fuel to my growing fury.

Walking away from the fractured door, I return my gaze to the living room. Despite the lack of airflow, the curtains dance, gentle whispers brushing up against my carpet. A need to rip them from the ceiling grows, and I nearly act on it before a familiar face peers out from behind them.

“The hell was that for?”

His glare is sharp, but his skin’s pale tone gives away the fear residing behind it.

“Found him. Gotta go, bye.” The line disconnects before Henry has a chance to answer. I know I’ll have to deal with him later, but more important matters are at hand.

Logan stands there, his head cocked to the side while his eyes skitter over me. Wary irises peer out from narrow eyes. Tension sits heavily on rigid muscles. “You wanna answer my question?” he bites.

Venom weaves patterns in his voice, turning it harsh. It snaps me out of my relieved stupor, reminding me of my own irritations. Burning the back of my throat.

“What the fuck, man? I sent someone to pick you up,” I snap back.

It’s apparent Logan didn’t expect such open hostility. Honestly, neither did I. But, the words are igniting my tongue, dancing over my lips. Begging to be released.

“Why did you leave without telling me? Or letting anyone know for that matter?” Small canyons form at the corners of my lips in a scowl. “How did you even get in?”

Logan takes a step back. He’s fidgeting with his cuticles. A nervous habit. “I’m twenty-three, Aden. I don’t need a babysitter,” he answers, walls growing around him as defenses are built. He sighs, but the tension only grows. “I don’t know, okay? I-I knew my way-I knew how to get here. I don’t even understand why you would send anyone. And you left—” he lets out another sigh, this one trembling. “The door was unlocked, so I just kind of let myself in.”

His voice stops as he tries to play off an indifferent shrug. Faux calmness settled over him as his eyes dart from me to literally anything else. Muscles are still tensed. Gaze, scattered. Jumping terror lights those dark pools of coal.

I force myself to relax. Icing the fiery rage. I’m still mad he felt like he could just let himself in, but this is his house, too. And I’ll be damned if I shatter his trust more than it already is.

“Sorry. You know, I just… I was worried about your lungs.” My voice is cautiously soft. “You inhaled a lot of smoke. I didn’t think walking seven miles would be good for that.”

Bright splashes of pink spoke lingering anger, skin damaged by licking flames. Beneath rough fabric grew a prominent bulge where thick bandages poked out around his neckline. It was likely one of the worse burns. They’d need continued attention even after being discharged.

But Logan’s expression is what draws my attention. His eyes are wide with disbelief, his mouth held slightly open in silent awe. Confusion roots itself in pinched brows. Like he doesn’t know how to respond. Then, it’s gone. Vanishing so quickly I think I imagined it.

Now, his eyes are narrowed. Streams of frigid cold flow from their dark depths, brushing against my skin. Turning my blood to ice. It catches me off guard.

“I can take care of myself,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been doing it for a long time, now. I’m not the same pathetic kid you pulled from the river, okay? Try to remember that before you fall too far in this game of house.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply. Even if he did, I’m too shocked to give one. His words are far more ruthless than I’d imagined, and they’re striking at every nerve. Raking claws drawing misery from anywhere they can.

Blackout curtains move as he reappears from his little section. I hadn’t even seen him leave.

“Can I work over there?” he asks, pointing to my breakfast bar.

His voice wrenches me from the turmoil brewing within. I’d usually be happy for the distraction stopping me from falling further than need be. Henry does it all the time. But, Logan’s voice remains hardened steel, cutting through freshly torn flesh over and over again.

Throat constricting, I barely registered myself speaking. “Sure. Yeah. Do whatever the fuck you want, I guess. Don’t mind me.”

I don’t wait for an answer as I turn and strike out for the comfort of my room. I’m tired, grouchy from lack of sleep. Excitement built immediately crushed. Nothing more than a heap of fractured rubble at my feet. I want nothing more than to bulldoze it all away. Pretend it never existed in the first place.

I’m so worked up, so angry, so hurt that I don’t even ask about the little purple flower on the other side of the concealing curtains.