Page 2 of Burned By Fire

“No, Sol. We can discuss your drinking if you’d like?”

A burst of rage fills my veins. I wish I was ready to deal with my emotions, but I’m not. With a thrust of my wrist, I pour my water into the plant pot and discard my glass on a small table. I don’t want to think about either of these problems, never mind verbalize my pain.

“It was nice meeting you, but I think we’re done here.” The room is beginning to close in on me, and I need to escape. I fling the door open, letting it hit the wall, and make a hasty exit.

Jackie doesn’t try to stop me and I’m not slowing down. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I take the stairs two at a time. I push past the young woman standing between me and the exit, not caring if she thinks I’m rude. The urge to have a drink is overwhelming, and I head to the nearest bar.

“Bourbon,” I say to the bartender, and he gets my order right away.

I swirl the ice around the glass, staring at the cold brown liquid. This is what my life has become. It’s not even noon and I’m sitting in a bar, wondering if I should have this drink.

Armstrong, Georgia, used to be my sanctuary, but now it’s my anchor. I don’t belong here, but for some reason, I can’t leave. I’m stuck in my own personal hell and I don’t know how to get out.

I raise the glass to my lips and inhale deeply. It’s been two days since my last sip of the devil’s liquor, but I’m too weak to resist now. I down the alcohol and order another with a click of my fingers.

Things were different eight months ago. I didn’t have bursts of anger, and I was happy. After breaking my arm and getting third-degree burns on the left side of my body, I lost my purpose. While out on a morning run, I saved two children from a terrible fire, but because I didn’t have my safety equipment or team with me, it changed my life. I didn’t have time to wait for my on-duty firefighter colleagues. The building was already unstable and I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I located the children and was almost outside when a burning support beam fell on me. I managed to get to the door and out of the building, but the damage was already done.

I’ve re-lived that day a thousand times over, but I could never have left those children.

I chug back the liquor, welcoming the burn.

“Slow down, hero,” a familiar voice says, and I turn to see Ember Burton. I was her mentor when she first became a firefighter candidate. Her beautiful brown eyes display an empathy I don’t want to see.

“I’m not a hero,” I say, lowering my head so I don’t have to meet her gaze. Pain fills my gut. I don’t want her to see me wallowing in self-pity like this.

“I beg to differ. I’ve told you more than once you’re an inspiration to me. You’ve saved countless lives and you deserve more than drinking alone in a bar.”

“I couldn’t save my own skin.” I roll up my sleeve to reveal a small part of my contracture scar. The deformed skin and muscle are ugly, so I usually keep it covered up, but I want her to see it. I want her to take a hard look at the flesh and understand why I’ve been distant. I’m no longer the same guy she used to know, and it doesn’t matter how many attempts she makes to be my friend, everything’s different now. I’m expecting her to see the truth then leave me alone.

The bartender gestures to my glass, and I give a swift nod.

“I think you should slow down, big guy,” Ember says. I can feel her gaze on me, but I try to ignore it. She’s not backing away like I expected her to. I thought she’d be repulsed by my scars.

“Since when did you start giving me advice?” I ask. A strangled laugh escapes me. It’s ironic that the pupil has become the master. She’s also reminding me I’m no longer her superior, even if it’s unintentional.

“If you need it, I’ll dish it out.” She climbs up onto the stool next to me and her breast grazes my good arm.

The touch of a woman is something I haven’t had in a long time.I shake the ridiculous thought.

“Two glasses of water, please,” Ember says, and the guy behind the bar does as she asks. He puts them both in front of her before going to the other end of the room to collect some empty beer glasses. She sips one of the drinks, then pushes the other one towards me.

“I don’t want your help,” I say bitterly.

“What about my Auntie Jackie? Do you want her help? You almost knocked me over while you were storming out of her practice.”

I frown. Jackie is her aunt? Makes sense, I guess, since they have the same surname.

Ember was the woman blocking my path when I left the therapist’s office, and my mind was so clouded that I didn’t see her. She’s a petite little thing but usually stands out. She’s ambitious, bubbly, and outgoing. She passed the firefighter’s exam at the top of her class and is going to go far in her career.

“Going to her office was a mistake,” I say.

“And what about the drink?”

The alcohol I consume is none of her business. Opening my wallet, I throw down some money on the bar. I stand abruptly, ready to leave, but she jumps down from her stool, squaring up to me. At five foot four, she barely comes up to my jawline, and I tower over her.

“I’m leaving.” I try to sidestep her, but she’s quick on her feet.

“Okay. I’ll drive you.”

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