Read Online Nothing Left to Burn by Patty Blount - Free Book Online

are we doing after school?”
    “Working out.”
    Bear groaned, and I just blinked at Gage. “Sorry, what?”
    “Logan, firefighting is physical, and no offense, but you look like a good gust of wind might knock you down, so we’re gonna help you get ripped.”
    “Guys, I can handle it.”
    Amanda snorted. “We’ll see.”
    The bell rang, and there was no time to argue.
    The afternoon’s classes went by way too fast, and by 2:45, I was behind the school, at the football field, where the lacrosse team was already practicing. A shrill whistle cut the air, and I found Max standing at the top of the bleachers. Gage and Kevin were there too.
    But not Amanda.
    I dropped my bag on one of the benches and jogged up the aisle to meet the guys at the top. Max and Gage exchanged a look.
    “Not bad, Peanut,” Max said, scanning me up and down.
    I froze in place. “Don’t call me that.”
    “Cool it, Max.” Gage stepped in front of Max and put his hands on his hips. Max was incredibly well-built. It was steroids, I was sure of it. But then again, Gage was kind of broad too. “How much do you think bunker gear weighs?” he asked.
    I went through the list—boots, pants, coat, helmet, tank. “About fifty pounds.”
    “You’re right. Now, add in the weight of tools like a hose or a Halligan bar and an ax, and we’re talking about seventy-five pounds, give or take. You need to be able to carry that much weight without panting, or you’ll suck down an oxygen tank before you make it to the fire.”
    Made sense. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
    “Meet us out here every day. We’re gonna run the bleachers, and every day, you’re gonna add more weight until you can do it with seventy-five pounds.”
    Jesus H. Kristofferson, they were going to kill me.
    Max stood at the top of the aisle. “Ready?”
    Not even a little bit. I followed behind him at an easy jog, down the steps and back up. On the second lap, I noticed Gage wasn’t running. And where was the rest of the squad? Shouldn’t they all be conditioning?
    “Hold up.” Gage put up a hand to stop us on the third circuit. “How do your lungs feel, Reece?”
    “Okay…I guess.”
    “Tell me your address.”
    “One twen…twenty-two…Heatherwood Lane.” I was gasping for air, pressure building around my lungs.
    “You’re breathing too deeply. You need to control that,” Amanda said. I whipped around and found her on the bleachers behind me. “Breathe in. Hold it for three…two…one. Let go.”
    I followed her instructions and felt the pressure in my chest fade.
    “Again,” she ordered.
    I jogged down the steps, concentrating on controlling my breathing as I did. I did two more circuits, and my thighs were on fire.
    “How many?” she asked Gage.
    “Six.”
    “Okay, that’s good for today. Tomorrow, add five pounds. Rope next.”
    Oh God. I thought good for today meant done for the day. When she passed me on the steps and waved a hand, indicating I should follow her, I lost all hope. Amanda led me around the bleachers to a grassy section underneath them and picked up the end of a thick coil of rope tied to a cinder block.
    “Take this. Run relay-style from here to there.” She pointed to the gate that led to the field. “Turn around, repeat, but reverse arms.”
    I took the rope and took a step.
    “No. Stop.” She adjusted the rope so that the length of it—and its weight—was over my shoulder. “Lean down. Grip it tight. Now go.”
    I ran, tugging the weighted rope behind me. When I reached the gate, I turned, switched shoulders, and ran back.
    “Control your breathing.”
    Oh Christ. I did it again, holding my breath for a few seconds before letting it out. It definitely helped. But it was a lot to think about.
    “Okay, stop.”
    With pleasure. I dropped the rope, leaned over my knees, and wished desperately for a bottle of water to materialize in my hand, but the only things there were rope burns. “What next?” I managed to croak