For the next six days, I didn’t speak to Dahlia once.

  Not that she made it easy - she’d left so many messages, I simply stopped answering my phone at all, which left me more isoted. Talking to her would be like a mb walking willingly to the sughterhouse; whatever she had to say, I couldn’t bear to face the truth.

  Every time I got the temptation to break my silence, I remembered her eyes, drained of warmth and filled with fear. I didn’t know when I’d be brave enough to say something, or if I ever would be.

  Then, as if something lurking in my subconscious was punishing me, my nightmares underwent a rewrite. No longer did I relive an exact py-by-py of Feliz’ final moments, his freckled cheeks white and his hands cold. Instead, his blood was a now sickly pale yellow, and out of his wounds spilled hundreds of wasps, the fluttering of their wings in pce of the deafening gunfire.

  As I tried in vain to stop the bleeding, Feliz turned to me, eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open, and he spoke in my mother’s voice:

  You’ve turned out

  just

  like

  him.

  Like clockwork, I’d wake up drenched in sweat, arms itching to the point of agony. I wanted nothing more than to tear out every little insect that made its home in my body, but there was no use: they were part of me now, down to my bones, their blood in my veins. Maybe at my autopsy, they’d find nothing inside but a hive where my heart used to be.

  I tried my best to distract myself with work, but it was ironic: the more fires I put out, the more I thought of Dahlia and the investigation. Many of the fires were in such random, unreted pces that you couldn’t possibly see a connection, but it only made me more certain that Garrett was behind them. He was clearly trying to disrupt the patterns I’d been following, but one of these days, he’d falter. I counted them one by one.

  On our drive back from a fire that’d eaten up half of a carniceria, I watched Garrett closely from my seat across from him. No matter how intense the calls got, he’d gotten his puppy-like energy back, always ready for more even when the rest of us were exhausted. Everyone else bmed it on youthful vitality, but I knew better.

  Right when we were pulling into the apparatus bay, our eyes met. At first, Garrett blinked in surprise, his eyes bright and clear; then, slowly, he smiled, sickly sweet like a poisoned apple. God, I couldn’t wait to bring him to his knees.

  The second everyone was out of their gear, they dispersed. Ever since I’d found the nest in my sleeve, I lingered behind to check every little pocket and pouch on my gear, just in case a wasp had slipped its way inside to make another one. No one questioned it, but then again, nobody really questioned me on anything these days. They just left me alone, which was exactly what I wanted. I still wasn’t happy, but I’d given up on trying to be.

  Half an hour passed until all throughout the station, the smell of Liam’s signature stroganoff carried in the air. My stomach groaned; I hadn’t realized it, but I was so hungry, it was a miracle my legs hadn’t given out. Food was just about the only thing I had to look forward to these days, but despite my appetite, I hadn’t gained a pound, which had me wondering uneasily just how many mouths I was feeding every time I took a bite.

  I was the st to arrive to dinner, though no one had bothered to let me know it was ready. Everyone was already distracted, too embroiled in a heated debate over the dinner table to acknowledge me, so I didn’t wait for permission to start fixing myself a pte.

  By the time I’d picked up the dle that rested beside the stovetop, I saw the pot was already empty. Even more strangely, only a few inches away was a bowl covered in foil with Chief Cormorant’s name on it, despite the fact that he never joined us for dinner. I blinked in confusion.

  “Ay, what’s this?” I asked, turning to face the rest of them. “Are y’all so hungry you already had seconds without me? Damn— I know the st call wasn’t that hard, don’t py with me.”

  The conversation stopped, and all eyes were on me now. No one ughed, or even cracked a smile.

  As he leaned back in his chair, Liam shrugged apathetically. “Well, you’re so picky about what you’ll actually eat these days, I didn’t bother making more than I had to. Why waste my time if you won’t eat it?”

  I smiled, though it was insincere. “Well, I could always eat leftovers— I ain’t fussy.”

  Instead of defusing the tension, this only seemed to add to it. Scooting back from the table, Liam got up, joining me by the stove while the rest of the crew stayed silent.

  “You’re a grown man, Herrera. If you want something, you can fix it yourself.” The edge in his voice was practically fixed to my neck like a knife. “Unless you think you can’t be trusted with anything sharp.”

  The smile dropped right from my face. From the corner of my eye, I gnced back at the crew, who had become our unwilling audience.

  In all of their faces, the discomfort was apparent: Heather fttened her mouth, cheeks rounded from the thin line her lips formed; DeShawn cringed like he was ashamed, but on whose behalf, I couldn’t tell; Rob didn’t dare look up from his phone like he was hoping this would all blow over if he ignored it. At the end of the table, even Garrett looked like he hadn’t expected Liam to be so bold, staring at the two of us in genuine surprise.

  Yet no one dared to speak up, a show of alliance that cut deeper than I thought it would.

  When I met Liam’s gaze again, my stomach lurched. He was completely unfazed, standing before me with squared shoulders like if he was forceful enough through presence alone, I’d take the hint and leave.

  Knowing that I wasn’t welcome, I returned my empty pte to the cupboard without embarrassing myself by fighting back. Now that he was satisfied, Liam rejoined the others back at the table, sitting back down as if nothing had happened. Everyone else was so still, it was like walking past a row of mannequins.

  Just as I was about to leave, Garrett rose from his seat, his hand nding on my arm. “Manny, wait—”

  Infuriated by his touch, I whipped my head around and smacked his hand away. “What the fuck do you want?!”

  Again, everyone’s eyes snapped on to me. The tension in the room was agonizing as I gred at Garrett, whose mouth formed a pitiful pout.

  “Um— all I was going to say was that if you’re hungry, I haven’t touched my pte yet, so…” He motioned downward, having split his stroganoff down the center evenly with his spoon. “We could share, if you wanted to? So you wouldn’t have to go hungry?”

  This little fucking worm. Every second around Garrett with the rest of the crew present was like acting out a scene where everyone had a copy of the script except for me - and to diverge from it meant punishment. I swallowed bitterly.

  “Actually,” I said, lowering my voice, “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  Before any of them could even try to interject, I stalked out of the kitchen, wounded more than I cared to admit. As soon as I was far enough down the hallway, the conversation resumed, energetic with comradery; clearly now that I was gone, they could go back to enjoying themselves.

  As I holed up in my dorm and shut the door behind me, all I could think was that at least my stomach had been kind enough not to groan until now, yet it was a cold comfort.

  It was fine, though. I was fine. I didn’t need any of them, because I didn’t need anyone.

  And if I told myself that enough times, it almost seemed like the truth.

  ? ? ?

  After dinner, I drifted through the firehouse like a phantom, never stopping in one pce for long. In the years since I’d joined this station, I’d never felt so out of pce in it before. I knew it like the back of my hand: which floorboards creaked the loudest, which windows were hardest to open, which doors needed extra WD-40 - but now, the familiarity hurt. Maybe after this was all over, I’d transfer stations, but the idea of starting over somehow depressed me even more.

  Lost in the depths of my own mind, I was broken free of my thoughts from the sound of commotion coming from the rec room. When I turned the corner, I found Heather pulling apart the couch cushion by cushion, but she didn’t seem to be cleaning it. She looked a little too worried for that.

  Childishly, I was still bitter that she didn’t stop Liam from giving me shit, but Heather had always been the biggest peacemaker in the station - she was never one to pick fights. In an effort to be more forgiving, I entered the rec room in spite of myself to see what she was doing.

  “Ay, what’re you doing to this poor couch? You shaking it down for some money?” I asked. “Are you that hard up now?”

  “Hm? Oh, hey, Manny!” Heather stood up to see me, which was when I noticed only one little pearl on her left ear. “Actually, I’m looking for my earring… I lost it yesterday, and I swear, I’ve turned the whole station upside down to find it, but it’s like it disappeared!”

  “Shit, that sucks— here, let me help.” I stepped towards one of the untouched recliners and plunged a hand inside to start digging around. “Where was the st pce you saw it?”

  Tossing her ponytail off of her shoulder, Heather paused in thought. “Well, it was in my dorm room on my nightstand. I always take them off before I shower and before bed. Then we got that call— you know, that one for the dumpster fire at those apartments?— and when we got back, one of them was gone! I checked my dorm room top to bottom and didn’t find it, so now I’m expanding my search.”

  As I listened to Heather, I swept a hand through the crevices of the recliner only to be met with sticky, crunchy crumbs. “Ugh— and where’ve you already looked?”

  “Everywhere else, basically,” she sighed. “The gym, the kitchen, the bathrooms— I’ve even checked the bay, for crying out loud! You’d think it vanished into thin air!”

  When I’d finished my part of the search, I wiped my filthy hands on my pants. “Have you asked the guys about it?”

  “Please! They’ve been no help.” Heather wrinkled her nose. “Rob told me that’s what I get for trying to be ‘girly’ around the station! Love these guys, but they can be such shitheads sometimes.”

  “Well, in any case, I’ll keep an eye out for it.” I grabbed a cushion off of the floor to help her start putting the couch back together. “Couldn’t have gone far, right?”

  “Yeah, I hope so.” As she took a cushion into her own hands, Heather shot me a grateful smile, her cheeks dimpling. “I appreciate the help, Manny. I really do.”

  Though her sincerity was clear, it only made me feel more bitter. Still, I pushed down the feelings of betrayal and smiled back at her in return. “Any time. Those were the earrings Beau got you, right?”

  “Yep, for the big ten years!” Now that the couch had been reconstructed, Heather took a seat, her shoulders slumping. “He’d promised to buy me real pearls when we could afford it, and now look at me— losing them just three weeks ter! He should’ve just gotten me something pstic instead.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” I took a seat on the couch with her, but instinctively, I gave her plenty of space. “Beau’s a good guy, he’ll understand.”

  “I know, but…” She pouted, bancing her hand on her chin. “Ugh. I’m such an idiot.”

  I had nothing more sensitive to say, so all I had to offer was a compassionate look. It seemed to be enough for her.

  In the silence that followed, the loud, booming voices of the guys echoed as they wandered down the hallways. From the chunks of conversation that I caught, it sounded like they were off to py something all together - and in my absence, Garrett had now taken my pce. It was hard not to feel sorely divided from them, like a finger severed from the rest of the hand. Wistfully, I sighed.

  Sitting up straighter, Heather shot me a look like she was trying to study my features. Then, she, too, sighed.

  “You know, Manny, it’s funny, but it feels like it’s been ages since the st time we just… I don’t know, sat down and talked.” She spoke softly, like she was trying to be nonthreatening. “Seems like you’ve always got something going on these days, you know?”

  I wasn’t in the mood for halfhearted sympathy, so I shrugged. “Hard to feel like talking much when you’re all icing me out like a bunch of fucking high schoolers.”

  “What? No one’s icing you out, Manny. If anything, you’re icing us out.” Her tone stiffened defensively. “For your information, we’re actually all worried about you— but you don’t exactly make it easy to figure out what’s going on.”

  It was such bullshit, I could hardly keep myself from ughing. Though I smiled back at her, it held no warmth, id out across my face like an ugly stain. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that shit with Liam earlier was just his way of showing me ‘tough love’? Get real.”

  Heather made a face like she didn’t have a counter argument, at least for that. “Look, obviously I can’t speak for Liam, but… the rest of us care, even if you tell yourself we don’t. Me, DeShawn, Rob, Garrett—”

  “Fuck Garrett!” I shouted, unable to stop myself. “You think I give a shit what that little psycho thinks? He can fucking choke!”

  The white hot anger rose up inside of me, painful to swallow down like battery acid. My skin ached, knuckles white despite each steady breath I captured and released. Before I could say anything else, miraculously, I stopped myself - a rare moment of self-control.

  Garrett had already pnted the seeds of distrust throughout the soil of the station, and in Heather’s eyes, those seeds were now beginning to bloom. She stared at me like I was possessed, as if my head spun in circles on my shoulders and my voice was not my own. It was a look I’d gotten used to, but it still hurt all the same. In defense, she raised her hands.

  “Calm down, okay? I don’t know what on Earth’s been going on between you two, but whatever it is, you need to grow up and work past it already,” Heather said, her tone measured to the point of being patronizing. “No one’s said anything about it ‘cause we’ve been waiting for you guys to just—well, deal with it on your own, but this weird little beef you have with Garrett has gone on long enough. You have to do something about it! It’s a major elephant in the room. Even Chief’s compining about it, and he’s never around to even see it!”

  I clenched my jaw shut; if I said the first thing that came to mind, it would be nothing but guttural, incoherent roaring. Instead, I took a deep, useless breath. At this, Heather rolled her eyes.

  “Seriously, you two really seemed so close there for a while. What happened? What could he possibly have done to piss you off this bad?” She asked. “I know that you’ve got— well, all your issues—”

  “Issues?” I echoed harshly. Then, suddenly, I froze. “Wait, did Garrett put you up to this?”

  Stunned, Heather blinked. “What?”

  “Did he pull you aside to give you another little bullshit sob story about how mean I am to him? About how no matter how hard he tries, I just won’t ‘let him in’?” I let out a cold little half-ugh. “Is that why you’re suddenly pretending you give a fuck? Like I don’t see the way you look at me— the way you all look at me, all the time?”

  Whatever pity Heather might’ve had for me was gone in an instant. Now all that remained was righteous indignation as she stood from the couch, like she had the audacity to be offended that I’d seen right through her.

  “What has gotten into you tely?” Her brows were ft across her forehead as she put her hands on her hips. “Ever since that accident, you’ve been such a freak! First it was all that crap about the fires, now this— did the Chief even bother to make you get an eval before you were cleared to work again? ‘Cause you obviously didn’t come back right!”

  “This has nothing to do with the accident!” I snapped, bolting up to my feet. Then, the fury in my voice buckled, giving way to something more pathetic, more desperate. “Please— you’ve got to listen to me, okay? Listen to me, ‘cause I’m only saying this once.”

  At the shift in my tone, Heather’s stare was unwavering in its intensity. Though I hadn’t meant to say anything, it was too te to back out now. Nervously, I ran a hand through my hair, palms sweaty.

  “Garrett’s got you convinced right now that he’s all nice and good and couldn’t hurt a fly, but I’m telling you: it’s a fucking act. That shit he pulled at dinner, the— the way he pretends like he’s got a heart of gold— it’s all a lie.” I pleaded not just with my words, but my eyes, too. “He’s fucked up, Heather. He’s maniputive, he’s shady, and he’s dangerous. And if he’s convinced you that you have to talk to me on his behalf, he’s just using you. Don’t let him.”

  Despite the desperation in my voice, the longer I spoke, the more Heather’s face scrunched up in revulsion. She shook her head like she was so, so disappointed in me.

  “Do you know how awful you sound right now, Manny? You’ve gone completely nuts!” Her tone was scalding. “He’s been nothing but sweet to you— God, he practically thinks the sun shines out of your ass— and now you’re making it out to be some giant con he’s running? I mean, why would you even say that? Do you have any proof? Or is this just you being all weird and suspicious for no good reason, like usual?”

  My throat tightened. All the evidence I had was tucked away at home, since I’d been too paranoid to keep it around the station anymore in case Garrett tried to tamper with it; even if I wanted to show her, I was empty-handed. It was my word against his, and by the look in her eyes, it was clear that my word meant nothing.

  “I don’t know how you can even stand to say all this about him, especially when he’s the only reason you made it out of that accident alive. You aren’t even a little grateful to him for that?” She asked sternly. “I feel bad for Garrett, I really do. If he knew the way you talked about him… honestly, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

  As the words left her mouth, suddenly, it all felt so pointless that I could hardly speak. Years of loyalty and camaraderie had vanished in seconds, id to waste by a boy who’d be more than happy to stab her in the back when she, too, became inconvenient to him. Hopefully her back was made of something tougher than mine.

  “Believe whatever the fuck you want, Heather. I don’t care anymore,” I said, my voice low. “But when he goes after you next, don’t come crying to me about it.”

  I kept space between us as I stomped my way to the exit of the rec room. When I paused to look back at her, my heart sank.

  There was no fondness left in Heather’s eyes; just a deep disgust, her features souring like she’d seen my face on a wanted poster with a long list of crimes. But whatever she was thinking, I was done giving a shit - about her, about Liam - about any of those sorry fucks.

  And if I told myself that enough times, it had to become the truth.

  It just had to.