There was probably a point in time where being a father was something I’d assumed I’d eventually become, but if there was, I couldn’t remember it. After my mom died when I was seven, all of my memories took on a darker tinge, the edges frayed by violence, destruction, and neglect. If Ihadever wanted to be a father, that want had since been pounded and burned out of me long ago.
“Mack!” The chief’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I was thankful for the distraction—whatever it was. “Can I have a minute?” He motioned over his shoulder toward his office, the door cracked open like he had been waiting for me to walk by.
“Of course,” I said as I walked past him, letting him close the door behind me.
The chief was in his sixties and had been in the role for almost ten years now. When he was first promoted, the gray in his hair was blonder, and a whole hell of a lot thicker. Now, his mustache probably had more hair than his head did. His gut was also smaller back then, but time and an obsession with Hostess Cupcakes would do that to a person. Plus, he spent a good deal of time behind his desk now, in meetings, and doing community events. He was very rarely in the field with us anymore, but that was fine, because he was a damn good chief.
I hadn’t been with the company during the previous chief’s time, but from what I’d heard from Ralph and some of the other guys, he wasn’t great. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that we were Gettysburg’s sole firehouse, it likely would’ve been shut down under his management. He managed to keep the town from burning down, but procedures weren’t as effective as they could’ve been, and safety protocols for the guys weren’t being followed. It was a disaster—or so I’d been told.
In short, I respected the hell out of Chief Abrams. His job was a difficult one, with a lot of pressure, but he handled it all with ease.
So sitting in the chair across from him always had a certain amount of nerves flooding my system. I didn’t think I was in trouble—I hadn’t done anything to warrant a reaming—but I still sat at attention, my spine rigid with apprehension.
“You’re a hard man to track down considering how often you’re here.” He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling on his stomach.
People always called me quiet, and yeah, that was partially true, but I also thought people said stupid things. What was I supposed to say to that?
“Sorry, sir.”
He grunted. “Shut up, Mack. You don’t need to apologize. It was merely an observation.” Nodding his head toward me, headded, “And relax, will you? You’re not in trouble, and you’re stressing me out with your back that straight.”
I let myself lean back in the chair, and crossed my ankle over my knee. Hopefully my outside would exude all the relaxation my insides didn’t feel.
Chief grunted. “All right, well, let me get straight to the point.”
I caught myself, the desire to sit up straight at his words almost prompting me to move, but I forced myself to stay reclined.
“I want you as a lieutenant.”
Relaxing be damned. I sat forward, my pulse thundering excitedly. This was everything I’d wanted, everything I’d been working toward since I’d taken the exam and passed with flying colors.
“Thank you, sir. You have no idea—”
His held-up hand cut me off mid sentence. “I said I want you as a lieutenant, not that I was promoting you.”
My heart fell to my feet, and I wanted to punt it across the room for getting its hopes up. Of course he was passing me up. There were other guys who had passed the exam too, and maybe they didn’t do as well as I had, but they’d been with the station longer.
“Your dedication to the job is unparalleled, and your passion for fighting fire borders pyromania, but you put this job, and those men out there, above anything and everything else. That’s exactly the kind of person I want in the role.”
To say I was confused was an understatement. All of that sounded like positives, so why wouldn’t he promote me? “Thank you, but I don’t understand.”
The chief leaned back in his chair again, and leveled me with a speculative expression. “Are you working right now, Mack?”
“Yes.”
It was technically true—today was my first day back on since my last shift.
His eyes narrowed on me. “And were you working the last three days you’ve been here?”
Shit. Maybe me being herewasagainst some sort of rule. “No, sir.”
He leaned forward, jabbing a finger my way, as if I should be having an “ah ha” moment right along with him. “That. That right there is the problem.”
“I thought you said that you wanted me to be dedicated.” I shook my head. I’d always thought the chief to be extremely logical, but what he was saying to me wasn’t making any sense.
“There’s a difference between dedication and devotion, however small it may be, and you are almost too invested. You can’t live and breathe fire, because fire doesn’t give life—she takes it. If you give her your heart and soul, eventually she’ll suffocate you and you’ll be nothing but ash. You need to have something outside of this station, outside of fighting fires, that gives you life. Do you understand?”
Not at all, because I couldn’t disagree more with him. Fire didn’t feel like it’d burn me alive or smother me. It felt like it’d be my rebirth. But I knew what Chief was getting at.
