Fighting the Fire (Warrior Fight Club 3)

“Let me take a closer look.” For the next ten minutes, the doctor conducted his examination.

The first time Doc shined a light directly into Sean’s eye, he cringed. “Aah, stings.”

“Photosensitivity is not surprising and should not be a lasting problem once you’re no longer wearing the eye covering.”

That was some good news, at least. Since, you know, fires were fuckin’ bright. He breathed a sigh of relief. “So, what’s it looking like, Doc?”

“Just one moment.” The man pushed the equipment away, typed at the keyboard for what seemed like forfuckin’ever, and then turned back to Sean. “The affected eye is at 20/70 right now, whereas your other eye is 20/20. It’s only been six days since the injury, and there’s some corneal inflammation that’s likely contributing to the differential—and probably accounts for your photosensitivity, too. The cornea helps focus the light that comes into the eye and is responsible for a large part of the eye’s focusing power. So my best guess is that we’ll continue to see improvement in the vision as the inflammation heals, and I recommend that we continue to shield the eye to avoid strain and let that cornea rest and heal.”

Sean swallowed hard. After Dani left last night, he’d made his way upstairs to his bed for the first time all week, but then he’d laid there awake for a long time. His head full of churn and burn over a million and one things. First, what being with Dani again meant, if anything. Second, what he wanted it to mean. And, hell, he didn’t know since he’d never expected to happen it again in the first place. Plus there were some mentions of a next time floating around out there that he was totally game for, but that led him back to topic number one all over again. Third, he replayed that moment afterward when she’d called him on his BS, along with the unusual admission he’d made to her—one that surprised even himself. His shitty childhood wasn’t something he often discussed, and yet he’d referenced it twice with Dani.

And, of course, his brain hadn’t been able to stop worrying about this appointment. Which was why, at about two o’clock in the morning, he found himself for probably the dozenth fucking time re-reading the NFPA’s standards for firefighters’ professional qualifications, which DCFD followed.

There were several things that concerned him. Any residuals of contusions or lacerations which impaired the visual function required for satisfactory performance of fire duty were disqualifying. And freaking corneal inflammation likely fell under that. And the standards for visual acuity were fucking confusing, but seemed to require uncorrected vision better than 20/40 in one eye and 20/100 in the other. Unless he’d read it wrong. Which, who the fuck knew.

He blinked at the man sitting in front of him. That guy would know. “Doc, maybe you can explain something to me.” He pulled out his cell and went to his photos. Because he’d screenshot the shit out of the quals. “I’m a firefighter. And I need to be able to meet certain visual standards. What does this mean?” He held out his phone.

The doctor adjusted his glasses as he looked at the screen. “It means you meet the standards for visual acuity, Mr. Riddick.” Sean could’ve fallen off the chair in relief. He glanced at Dani, who was smiling at him like he’d won the lottery. Dr. Herschel continued, “Your vision without correction is stronger than these minimum requirements. And if the injured eye doesn’t improve to 20/20, we can always consider soft contact lenses for the one eye, depending on your comfort. Either way, this is not a concern.”

“So am I out of the woods, then? After this finishes healing?”

“As long as there’s no lasting damage to the cornea that impairs your function, the prognosis is hopeful.”

Fuck. Why did that feel less hopeful than he’d, well, hoped for. “Uh, okay.”

“Dr. Herschel,” Dani said, “Is there any reason to be concerned about infection? Would there be any value in a preventative course of antibacterial drops?”

“I’m not seeing any signs of infection, and the most acute time for such a concern would’ve been in the immediate aftermath of the accident. As you know, noninfectious keratitis usually heals on its own, and nothing I’m seeing leads me to believe Mr. Riddick suffers from it.”

Dani nodded. “It’s good news, Sean.”

He gave her a hard look. “Really?

She smiled, and there was nothing but sincerity on her face. “You’re getting better.”

He nodded but couldn’t quite wipe the frown off his face, because what if better wasn’t good enough? What would he even be without firefighting?

Outside on the street, the day was breezy and hot, the sun bright in the late June sky. From a block away, the dome of the Capitol building towered over this part of the city, gleaming white in the sunshine.