Page 43 of Fire & Ice

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Leander replies, so low and so quiet that Trippalmostmisses it, and then abruptly, as he’s stepping out of the car, wishes he had.

It’s late November, and the weather isn’t above reminding them of that. The warm spell that followed the city’s transformation from summer to fall all the way through October has officially worn all the way off, and in Tripp’s opinion, “cold as fuck,” doesn’t even begin to cover it. Not that he’s some delicate flower who withers and ceases to be able to function when the temperature drops below sixty degrees, but the bite in the air and the way his nose begs to be tucked into the collar of his jacket—or Lee’s—has even Tripp wishing for spring.

A respectful ten or so feet away from his car, the remainder of Beau's gaggle of groomsmen lurks, and Tripp hates this whole thing already. As he waves politely, doing his best to ignore the stinging cold whipping across his cheeks and causing his eyes to water (cue the flashbacks to this morning’s shower, andnope—the warning pinch in his groin is enough to bring that train to a screeching, grinding halt), he takes inventory of the faces.

There’s Bri's brother, a nice enough kid named—of all things—fuckingSandalphon,though Bri and everyone else call the poor sucker Sandy, for obvious reasons. As the kid waves back, Tripp makes a mental note to send Leander over to commiserate with him over faux-religious parents who hate their children enough to name them after obscure angel-lore. True, Lee is only burdened with ‘Grigori’as a weird surname, but it’s still relatable childhood trauma. Tripp can’t help but look atthatand feel like his own parent loss and early promotion to adulthood both pale in comparison.

Beside Sandy—and standing close enough together that Tripp wonders if he’s not the only one who got the deviant gene in the family—are his douchey cousin Christian and Beau's equally douchey college and med school buddy, Brett. Tripp can’t think of another person in the entire known universe that he enjoys being around less than them, except formaybethe current City EMS Chief, Zavier. That dude is a Class-A prick, and he’s always fucking with Lee. Tripp lowkey considers setting fire to his car at least once a week.

Play nice,he reminds himself.

Holding out a hand to each of them in turn, Brett shakes it reluctantly before wiping his fingers on his coat, and Christian slaps his palm so hard it turns red.Asshole,he thinks, as Christian smirks, clearly hoping that Tripp will give him an opening to question his manhood or something equally ridiculous. Excuse him, but Tripp isn’t the one with his hand in the coat pocket of his “platonic work buddy”.

Well,he thinks, stealing a glance over at Lee.Not currently, anyway.

”What’s up,” he says flatly. Internally, he’s cursing Beau for liking these guys enough to eveninvitethem to the wedding, never mind crowning them people Tripp will have to be in close quarters with for extended periods of time until this whole thing is over. Brett is one thing—Tripp gets it, Brett and Beau lived together all through pre-med and college is a weird time,whatever. The guy’s a jerk, but it’s mostly because he’s pretentious and thinks he’s better than lowly, non-doctorate-holding losers like Tripp.

Christian, on the other hand, Tripp doesn’t get at all. Not as a person, and definitely not what Beau sees in him. Despite technically being cousins on his mother’s side, Tripp adamantly denies any family resemblance. Christian, in his opinion, is an irredeemable asshole.

Growing up, Tripp and Beau were too busy being dragged around the country by their grief-stricken and usually intoxicated father in the years before his death to have many typical childhood experiences. After their mother was killed by a drunk driver in a hit and run, Teddy Truett became a man obsessed. Convinced that he was on a holy mission of righteous vengeance, following breadcrumb trails in a supposed attempt to track down whoever murdered her.

Every move was, “one step closer to the truth,” a proclaimed fresh lead that would buoy them to a new town, full of bars that old Teddy wasn’t banned from entering and pool tables full of unsuspecting assholes he could hustle for his next drink. The motels were always the same. Stale, musty, too hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Tripp never had his own room.

It took Tripp years to figure out that his dad wasn’t looking for anyone at all, not unless that person was hiding at the bottom of a fifth of whiskey. Half the time, Teddy seemed to forget that he and Beau even existed. Tripp was left to figure it out on his own, stealing boxed mac and cheese and dry cereal to feed his little brother, because their dad was justgone,but fuck his twelve-year-old self, right?

All that said, when it came to attending extended family functions, making a cross-country trip for Cousin #4’s birthday just wasn’t on the “how to survive to next Tuesday” to-do list.

For some reason or another, Christian seems to have branded thatTripp’sfault. Sure,maybeTripp could’ve mademore of an effort after his father finally kicked it (liver cirrhosis, anticlimactic as hell), but he was still akid. Sixteen years old and dumped on Mickey’s doorstep, a guy who, at that point, he and Beau had only seen once a yearmaxfor the past decade. He was a brand-new orphan and living with virtual strangers! It wasn’t likeChristianwas Tripp’s top fuckin’ priority.

The worst thing is, Christian knows what they’ve been through and still sneers about their childhood. Condescends to Tripp, as if that mess is something he hadanycontrol over whatsoever. He exalts Beau for “rising above it,” and regularly reminds Tripp that—in his mother’s family’s opinion—he’s still gutter trash, just like his dad.

The mere reminder has Tripp clenching his hand down by his side, willing it tonotfind its own way into the sharply-sloped cartilage of Christian’s nose.

Fucking Beau justhadto go and match for his residency at the same hospital where their estranged cousin was an attending. And of course, Beau beingBeau(and a much better man than Tripp),he then had to go and mend fences with the guy. Not solely to maintain a working relationship, either, but to try and patchwork-together the larger family the two of them never got to have.

For that reason alone, Tripp can’t even be openly resentful about it. In his opinion,Mickey’sthe guy who stepped up to the plate when the situation called for it. Mickey’s the person who took them in, who taught him what a parentshouldbe, who put a roof over their heads and helped Beau apply to college. He was the first man to tell Tripp that his father’s shit wasn’thisto drag around, the reason he got his GED and enrolled at the fire academy in the first place. Mickey and his family are all the kith and kin Tripp cares to need,thanks.

But if Beau wants to form relationships with his blood, Tripp would be the ultimate dick to ice him out for doing so. Especially when itismaybe a little bit his fault that they don’t know each other in the first place. Just alittle.Look, no one can accuse Tripp of not doing his best where Beau’s concerned. It’s just that distancing himself from Theodore Truett’s stain and gaining redemptive approval from his mother’s side of the family wasn’t ever something he cared to do.

“Hey there, Tripp,” Christian says, his eyes sweeping over Tripp’s cheap jacket, his old jeans, and his scuffed boots with a raised brow. “I see you came with your little guardian angel. Surprise, surprise. You winged-creatures like to stick together, don’t you?”

Oh good, a fairy joke.Tripp was really hoping this event would kick off with some old-fashioned homophobia and a fistfight. He grits his teeth and catches sight of Leander squinting and sizing Christian up with a thoughtful tilt of his head. Well, best-laid plans—Tripp gives Christian thirty more seconds ‘til Lee lays him out on principle. Never,everunderestimate the hot, nerdy dude in a flasher coat, that’s what Tripp always says.

Luckily for Christian’s face, Beau pops up in-between them, timely and slinging an arm around each of Christian and Tripp’s necks before sweeping them towards the front doors of the building. “Alright, alright, you guys are here for me, not each other, try and remember that. It’s my day and I want youbothup there by my side, got it? We’re family. So no fighting,” he emphasizes with a chuckle that makes Tripp want to reach down into his throat and rip out.

Ugh.He hates how his brother acts around these two, but he’s right about one thing—it’s Beau’s day. With that in mind, Tripp rolls his eyes and settles for quietly wishing that hisbrother would go back to being his normal, dorky self, not this wanna-be mess he’s putting on to impress.

“Fine, Bozo,” he mutters, using the childish version of Beau's name on purpose, knowing he hates it.

“Burnout,” Beau replies, giving Tripp the finger.

“Clown.”

Leander opens the door for the group and everyone walks through, though he grabs Tripp’s arm and holds him back for a moment until the rest of them pass. Beau glances their way but ultimately doesn’t say anything as he disappears into the relative darkness of the shop, and Tripp’s grateful. The reassuring squeeze Leander applies to his hip goes a long way towards cooling his fiery edges, and he sighs, yanking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I hate those two,” he tells Lee.

“I know,” Leander replies, standing close enough for their toes to touch. “You’re doing just fine.” The wind ruffles his dark, gel-spiked hair, and the concerned, caring look he pegs Tripp with as he looks up into his eyes has Tripp workingreallyhard to keep from kissing him. “Whatever you do, don’t hit him.” Tripp scowls, but doesn’t promise anything. “If it’s needed, I’ll do it. Beau will be more inclined to forgive me.”

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