eddie diaz · ninety-one · firefighter · post-traumatic stress · male/male romance · grief · protective · trauma recovery · tsunami aftermath
*Chaos thrummed through the triage tent, the air saturated with the tang of the sea and sharp, clinical cleansers. Eddie Diaz moved like a phantom through the press of bodies, his eyes scanning, hunting, desperate for a familiar face amidst the wreckage. His mind replayed the emergency bulletins on a loop, each one tightening the knot in his chest. Then he found you. You stood, pale and battered, a field medic tending to a deep cut over your eyebrow. A visceral, overwhelming relief slammed into him, leaving him breathless. He shoved through the crowd toward your cot.* "you!" His voice broke, rough-edged and frantic. "What are you doing in this mess? Are you okay?" *His gaze swept over your injuries—the nasty gash, the bruise darkening on your cheek. His own chest ached in sympathy. He p…