Page 4 of Up In Flames

Oren

B y virtue of scheduling difficulties, Liam had been unable to come out that night to celebrate with me.

He’d felt bad at the time, and even after I could see the shadow that haunted his gaze when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Eventually, I’d gotten him to open up, and he’d confessed that he felt like the night might have ended differently had he gone.

And I agreed. He might have also died, and then I really would have been all alone.

His friendship was a comfort to me, but there were things that I couldn’t discuss with Liam. Or anyone for that matter. Like the way I couldn’t stop thinking about Will. Running into him at the pub had seemed like a sign. Ever since then, old memories mixed with new ones in my head.

Will pulling me from the car had lived on a loop since that night.

It was inescapable. But now it had been replaced with Will at the pub, smiling and laughing.

His gaze sliding over to me, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

The man had to help countless people each year, and it had been months since the accident, but he remembered me.

That shred of knowledge was the first thing that felt good since that night. When I returned to the table, I’d had to explain my absence to Simon, who’d taken an interest in my sudden departure from the table.

Admitting who Will was had taken almost no effort.

But when other eyes flicked over to me as I mentioned the accident, my stomach clenched.

The last thing I wanted was to talk about the wreck.

It was finally getting easier, but as the layers of grief and trauma peeled away, they just revealed new ones underneath.

Hal swooped in and steered the conversation back to another story of Simon’s brilliance, and the questions anyone might have had for me were easily forgotten.

Talking about the accident was hard enough, but then people sometimes asked questions I didn’t have the answers for.

Because of the booze I’d consumed and the accident itself, I was missing blocks of memory from that night.

I didn’t remember the crash itself. The only fragments that remained were the smell of gas.

Flashing lights. And Will like a fucking angel.

His eyes. The sound of his voice. Hell, I even remembered the ease with which he yanked me from that car.

But after that? Nothing. Snatches of me in the ambulance, but I hadn’t felt like myself.

Everything seemed fuzzy, like I was watching things happen through someone else’s eyes.

If there was one thing Will could help me with, it was putting the pieces together. Knowing what the wreck had been like wouldn’t bring anyone back. It wouldn’t ease the agony of losing Byron and Rita. And on that note, it seemed pointless to even ask. But knowing might make the nightmares stop.

It was hard to call them nightmares, though, because I wasn’t scared. There was no fear, just exhaustion and sadness dragging me down day after day. Clawing at me, trying to cut me off at the knees. Some days still felt like I was walking through wet cement.

Even before Will told me what station he worked at, I’d known. It hadn’t been too hard to track down, but I hadn’t thought of a suitable reason to go there, and I hadn’t known who to ask for. Until now. Will Dorsey.

Will Dorsey with the Mediterranean eyes who lived in my head like a fucking dream.

Maybe if he walked me through what the accident had looked like, what happened when he’d pulled up, maybe then I could get him off my mind.

My subconscious might leave me alone then.

It probably wanted to know what he knew, and then I’d be able to stop fixating on him.

After spending half my Saturday cycling through half my closet to find the perfect outfit, I finally settled on jeans and a graphic tee.

I stuffed my feet into a pair of Chucks and mustered up a shred of gratitude that the accident had left my body mostly unchanged.

It was the rest of me that felt like it was wrecked and ruined.

The station was a bus ride away, but after chickening out and missing the stop, I’d gotten off the bus a few blocks away and had to backtrack.

I didn’t even know if Will was at work that day.

Calling ahead might have been a good idea, but I figured I’d take my chances.

If he wasn’t here, then I’d take it as a sign from the universe that I wasn’t meant to know the things my brain refused to remember, and I’d never come back.

The fire station had three large bays for trucks, and one was open.

Laughter and noise drifted out as I approached, my sweaty hands tucked into my pockets.

Seeing a fire truck up close for the first time made my mouth go dry.

It was an intimidating piece of machinery.

My feet stopped of their own accord in front of the station, and I stared at the truck wondering if it was the same one that had come to the scene of the accident.

Not for the first time, I wondered why Rita had gotten behind the wheel. According to the accident report, she hadn’t been grossly over the legal limit, but she’d still been over. Maybe she thought she’d be fine. There was no way for me to know what she’d been thinking.

“Need a hand, friend?” My attention snapped to reality, and I stared at the man who approached. He was in the standard firefighter shirt with the station logo over the left pectoral, just like the guys back at the pub the other week had worn.

“I’m here to… uh… is Will working today?” Seeing the blank look on the man’s face, I remembered to use his last name. “Dorsey?”

Recognition flared in the man’s expression. “He’s not working today, but yeah, he’s here. Hang tight, I’ll run up and get him.”

“If he’s busy, it’s okay, I can come back.” Or not.

“He’s not busy. He just thinks the rest of us assholes can’t fend for ourselves. He’s not exactly wrong. Give me like two minutes, and I’ll send him down.” The guy turned and took two steps, then turned back. “What’s your name?”

“Oren.”

“Right. Two minutes.”

Other firefighters milled around the firetruck taking care of various tasks, but they still managed to cast curious glances my way.

Tucking my hands back in my pockets, I wandered out of their view and off to the side of the station where I could watch for Will without feeling like I was being stared at.

Two minutes later, just as promised, Will appeared. He hurried out of the station and looked around, his posture stiffening when he didn’t spot me at first, prompting me to pull one hand out of my pocket and wave at him when his gaze drifted around, searching.

He smiled when he spotted me, and the tight knot in my stomach loosened.

I’d worried that I’d be disturbing him at work.

He could’ve been on a call, or training, or doing any number of things.

Stopping in here had been a risk and until he started toward me, I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed it to pay off.

“Oren, it’s good to see you.” Will’s greeting was warm and friendly. It was probably his standard demeanor.

“You’re not working today?” I said in lieu of something normal, like hello.

“I just swung by because there was this recipe I saw that I wanted to try, but cooking for one isn’t something I’m used to. I was just dropping off leftovers for the boys.”

“I can come back if you’re busy.”

“Oren, it’s fine. Did you want a tour?” Will motioned back to the station, and I shook my head. Anxiety took hold of my body, wrapping cold hands around my chest and squeezing.

Will nodded. “Let’s walk then.”

I followed him to the sidewalk, and we strolled away, passing a stationary store, an accountant, and a tattoo shop before I finally found my voice.

“I want to know about that night. I don’t—there’s gaps.”

“That’s common after traumatic events and head injuries. How are you, by the way?”

Will’s concern seemed genuine, and I wanted to kick myself for even being surprised by that. Of course, he’d be concerned. He was a firefighter because he cared about people. It was obvious to me, and I hardly knew him.

“I’m okay. I had a pretty bad concussion, but it’s mostly better. Sometimes, if I push too hard, I still get headaches, but nothing like before.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you.”

Will shook his head. “I was hardly the only person there.”

“Okay, then thanks to you and everyone else. I don’t remember anyone else being there. Just you… and then the ambulance.”

Will stopped in front of a cafe, the kind with a chalkboard sign on the sidewalk offering up a list of the day’s specials. A few customers sat near the front windows, but we must have arrived during a lull because they were the only ones inside.

“Did you want to sit and have a coffee while we talk?”

I didn’t particularly want coffee, but I didn't think I could ask anything if I were strolling down the street like I didn’t have a care in the world. I needed to sit so I could focus.

“Yeah, uh, okay.”

I followed him inside and realized he was definitely a regular here when the guy behind the counter asked if he wanted the usual.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Will said to him. “What do you want? It’s on me.”

I scanned the menu that was on the back wall. “Raspberry lemonade?”

“Raspberry lemonade for Oren.” Will turned to me. “Grab a table near the back, and I’ll be right over.”

I didn’t question why that table, or why Will wanted to pay for my drink.

It was like my brain was stuck in neutral, and I was just coasting along, doing what I was told.

Will came to the table and sat down across from me.

The raspberry lemonade looked delicious, but my throat was too tight to think about swallowing yet.

“Do you want me to just tell you what happened when I rolled up on the scene, or do you have specific questions you wanted to ask?”

Understanding flicked through my brain, waking it up. “You’ve done this kind of thing before.”

He nodded. “Sometimes people don’t remember things, and they go looking for answers. It’s natural to want to fill in those blanks.”

He looked like he was hesitant to say what was really on his mind.

“Are there gaps in my memory that I shouldn’t want filled? Because I don’t remember crashing. I remember…” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath hoping to undo the knot of dread in my stomach. “I remember you.”