Page 27 of Fire & Ice

“Of course, Tripp,” Leander replies, already back to tugging on his fingers as he holds himself back, looking a littlebit lonely, a little bit lost. Tripp just can’t deal with that right now—he can’t. He lets the door slam closed behind him and walks away, the key weighing heavy inside his pocket.

On the ride down in the elevator, Tripp swipes open his phone and shoots off a message to Beau. Thankfully, his brother is on a similar rotation as him and Lee, and heshouldbe off work tonight. So long as he’s not already tied up with Briana—and doesn’tthatinvasive thought make Tripp cringe with unwanted mental imagery, considering what he’s been up to himself—he’ll probably be into hanging out.

A guy can hope.

Even though they still live together—hey, city living is expensive—both Truetts have their own lives, plus Beau and Bri are planning a wedding. That doesn’t always leave an assload of extra time to just hang out and be brothers. In fact, Tripp’s pretty sure that it’s been over a week since he and Beau shared more than a cup of coffee in lieu of a meal, or exchanged any words beyond bleary good mornings.

Maybethat’swhy he’s all off-kilter and weird. Yeah, that must be it. He just needs some family time to help relax and unwind. Needs to bounce a few things off of Beau's big brain and make fun of his too-long hair over a couple of beers.

By the time he’s stepping out the front door of Leander’s apartment complex, Tripp’s already feeling moderately better. The wind is cold and sharp as it whips and stings at his face, but the fresh air helps, too. He sucks it in, driving home with the windows down, despite the cold.

As he’s pulling into the parking lot adjacent to his and Beau's building, Tripp’s phone buzzes twice in a row. Throwing his car into park, he fishes in his pocket and swipes the text message open without pause. He’s inordinately relieved to seeBeau's reply, even more so when he reads that Beau is at Bri's but wants to hang out. His brother suggests that they meet up at their usual haunt, the Hot Plate.

The Hot Plate is a shitty dive bar just down the street from their place, but it’s close to Tripp’s heart. The place is owned by Station Eleven’s Captain, Reina, and it’s a regular hub for off-duty fire, police, and EMS personnel, for obvious reasons.

In fact, a lot of the EMTs and firefighters that work for the City also take shifts waiting tables and working the bar there: it’s Reina’s way of giving back to the community that can’t afford to pay them the living wage that they deserve. No firefighter or EMT should have to work two, even three jobs just to make rent and put food on the table, but such is the world they live in. Tripp himself has been known to do the Hippy Hippy Shake behind the bar a time or two, but only when he’s desperate enough to be scrounging between couch cushions for spare change.

Honestly, he’s got better things to do on his nights off, like drink or binge soapy medical dramas. Or hang out with Lee. And that wasbeforethey were fucking.

Speaking of Lee—how the guy affords such a kickass apartment on a medic’s salary, Tripp will never understand. He has a working suspicion that Lee comes from money, that he has a trust fund or stocks, maybe some other kind of inheritance or passive income Tripp wouldn’t know anything about. Whatever it is, Lee doesn’t talk about it. Doesn’t share about his family at all, actually, ever. Tripp’s known the guy for the better part of a decade, and he always spends his holidays alone or with Tripp and Beau, and previously, with Autumn and her crew.

Within that oddball group, they’re all very different people, but the one thing the five of them have in common is their distinct lack of blood-related parents. Whether byunfortunate circumstance like Tripp and Beau, or choice (definitely Autumn and presumably Lee), the outcome is the same. It’s part of why Tripp never disliked Autumn as much as he maybe should have—she was alright to Lee, and from what Tripp knows, life didn’t hand her the greatest shake, either.

Still, Tripp’s pretty fuckin’ glad she’s out of the picture. Not that she ever had a chance with Lee in the long run (or Tripp wouldn’t be in this mess), but his complex emotions about Leander are screwed up enough without addingthatinto the mix.

Those thoughts about Lee start to make him itchy again, so Tripp shoves them away and refocuses on his excitement at getting to see Beau. With a renewed spring in his step, Tripp jogs up the stairs to their shared apartment on the second floor and quickly swaps clothes, runs a brush over his teeth, and throws some gel in his hair.

While looking in the mirror of their tiny bathroom, he can’t help but notice that there’s a trail of hickeys running down the side of his neck, towards his collar bone. Scowling at his reflection, Tripp buttons the front of his flannel a little higher and it (mostly) does the trick—bruises hidden. The twinge in his ass when he takes a seat isn’t so easily ignored, but at least no one canseethat.

Despite the cold, Tripp opts to walk the five or so blocks down the street to the bar. Parking’s a bitch outside the Hot Plate at this time of night, and Tripp’s not keen on leaving his vehicle on a busy street outside of a rowdy bar in the bad part of town, anyway. Or maybe all of those things are excuses to avoid admitting to himself that he’s planning on getting so smashed he can barely walk, because apparently, that’s the only wayLeeis going to stop popping into his goddamn head uninvited.

Letting out a frustrated growl, Tripp stomps a little heavier than necessary down the street, his breath puffing clouds of white into the frigid evening air. A few people eye him curiously or worriedly, giving him a wide berth as he passes on the sidewalk, and he wonders what kind of angry expression he must be wearing to merit that.

Sighing in defeat, Tripp rubs at his face and runs a hand through his hair, but that only makes him think about Lee doing the exact same thing in various but equally appealing ways. Traitor that it is, Tripp’s dick twitches in his pants, and he directs his scowl towards his crotch, albeit with lackluster results.

There’s a decent-sized crowd loitering outside the bar, which isn’t surprising for a Saturday, even so early in the night. Tripp catches sight of a few of his platoon members talking and laughing, and it drains him. Theo and Mac are hanging out next to the door sharing a smoke, so he basically has to engage, even though small talk with his co-workers is pretty low on the list of things he wants to be doing right now.

“Trippster, haven’t seen you around in a few days,” Mac comments, the slight glaze over his eyes and the tang in the air suggesting that the smoke he’s puffing on is not a cigarette. When Mac offers it up, Tripp hesitates, but ultimately decides,what the hell?He did come here to get fucked up.

No,he scolds himself.You came for Beau.

“Thanks,” he says anyway, taking a small puff and handing the joint off to Theo, who surprises Tripp somewhat by partaking. Then again, Theo’s always been kind of a ‘rules are for when they benefit me,’ sort of guy, so maybe it’s not surprising at all. Truthfully, Tripp doesn’t really care what anyone else is doing to cope.

“So what’s up?” Mac prods, jerking his head towards the door before accepting the joint back from Theo. “Saw your bro come in a few minutes ago. You guys up for a game later?”

“Pool?” Nowthat,Tripp can get behind. “Hell yes,” he replies enthusiastically. “For money, right?”

“Ain’t no other kinda game here,” Mac says, shooting him a grin and a knowing nod.

“Sure you can afford it, Truett?” Theo teases. “I’ve seen those boots you drag your sorry ass to work in, they’ve sure seen better days. Maybe you should keep your money and buy some new ones, before you walk right out of them soles. Or are you saving up to finally buy Leander that diamond engagement ring he’s always wanted? Let him make an honest woman out of you?”

Tripp just rolls his eyes, outwardly unfazed. The guys he works with teasing him relentlessly about his feelings for Lee—that’s nothing new. The resulting sharp pang that stabs him straight through the heart and wraps icy tendrils around it to squeeze, however—thatis. He’s not upset, though, not really. His co-workers are decent enough to only bust his balls when Lee isn’t around, and Tripp’s more grateful for that than he could ever say.

On the other hand, he sure wishes he could get ten goddamn minutes without his brain being sucker-punched and cornered and basically drop-kicked into thinking aboutLee, Lee, Leeall over again.

Fuck.

“Forget Lee, your mom rocked my world last night, maybe I’ll give that ring to her,” Tripp shoots back airily. He can play this game in his sleep. Flashing his widest, most unbotheredsmile, Tripp tips his head to the side and rocks some disastrous finger guns in Theo’s direction.

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