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Then I push the door open, a little too quickly for my own good, and step into the unknown.

The door swings open, and I’m ambushed by an untamed herd of third graders let loose in Ms. Higgins' classroom. Laughter, glue sticks, and paper scraps collide midair, a melee of kid energy with the teacher at its calm center.

I swallow, or try to, but my throat is dry as fuck. Kids are all over the place, swarming with the intensity of a fire ant pile that’s been kicked. Every art project known to man scatters across the room, creating barely controlled chaos that feels ten times more unpredictable than any emergency call I've been on.

Standing right in the middle of the chaos is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her long, curly blonde hair is up in a way that I can only describe as stylishly tangled, and she has intense blue eyes that remind me of clear summer skies. She's bending over a group of kids, totally at ease, you’d never know she’s surrounded by the madness that’s closing in around me.

I freeze, all firefighter instincts failing me. She hasn’t even noticed me yet, but I'm standing here like a deer caught in headlights and my usual confidence is nowhere to be found. Her voice floats above the din, steady and warm, giving directions for the project they're doing. It’s meant to be about careers, I guess, but right now, it looks like the only thing most of them will be qualified for is demolition.

A kid zooms past with a pair of safety scissors, and it jolts me back to life. My entrance hasn't drawn any attention yet, so I hover awkwardly in the doorway, half of me tempted to retreat and regroup.

But then the stunning woman looks up, and our eyes meet, and suddenly there's no chance in hell I'm going anywhere. Her smile is bright and unguarded, hitting me with all the force of a first impression I should have been prepared for. Every goddamn nerve in my body goes on high alert while my cock wakes up. Oh, fuck no. This really isn’t the time to deal with this shit.

"Hi," she calls out, her voice cutting through the bustling noise of the crowded room. Her eyes are fixed on me with a knowing smile. "You must be Ian Hot.”

Her words drag me out of my stupor. As I hear them, memories of how I ended up here flood back, a reminder of the limited choices I had. Despite the whirlwind of thoughts in my head, all I manage to say is, "Uh, yeah. That’s me. Ian. I’m here." My voice is almost lost amid the surrounding chatter, but I nod to confirm my presence, feeling even more awkward.

She stands, a little bit flustered herself now that I really look, but a lot more together than I am. My brain and my tongue don’t seem to be on speaking terms, and I'm stuck just staring as she brushes her hands on her skirt and steps toward me.

“We’re just finishing up an art project. You caught us at our messiest,” she says, a hint of apology in her voice, but also pride. Like this chaos is exactly what she was aiming for.

“Yeah, looks… wow,” I manage, sounding like I just ran a goddamn marathon. “It’s, uh, busy.” Sage laughs, and I realize she’s not fazed at all. Meanwhile, I’m scrambling to find my footing in this turn of events.

The kids haven’t really noticed me yet, all too absorbed in their masterpiece of disaster. I can see bits of their projects through the storm, fire trucks made from milk cartons and a cardboard axe. Somehow, Sage has orchestrated this pandemonium without breaking a sweat, while I stand here, paralyzed and useless, my authority gone the moment I set foot in this classroom.

Before I can gather myself enough to form a coherent sentence, a group of students finally spots me. I’m mobbed in seconds. They're full of questions, and one of them tugs insistently on my sleeve. “Are you really a firefighter?”

“That’s what they tell me.” I grin, trying to fake the confidence that usually comes so easily. But my voice wavers, embarrassingly unsure.

“Cool!” another kid chimes in, her eyes wide as she clutches a glue-smeared paper fire hydrant. “Can you drive the truck?”

“I bet you’re not afraid of anything!” a boy shouts from somewhere in the mix, his enthusiasm as infectious as the flu.

They circle around me, and Sage gives me an encouraging nod like she's sure I’ve got this under control. But every time I glance her way, my mind blanks. “Afraid? Nah, except…” I fumble for words, knowing I should be in my element here, but I’m completely thrown. “Except maybe of my mother. She’s not one to mess with.” It’s a weak line, and I know it, but the kids don’t care. They laugh and push closer, firing off more questions before I can think too hard about what I'm doing.

Sage steps back to her desk, but I can tell she's watching, a half-smile playing on her lips. I try to give her one of my own, hoping it looks more natural than I feel. My fists clench at my sides, not around firehoses or safety gear but just to stop them from shaking.

“Did you ever save anyone?” A small girl with huge glasses peeks out from behind the others, her voice soft but urgent.

“Lots of times,” I say, and the confidence in my voice surprises even me. I tell them a quick story, something tame enough for third graders, but enough to make them gasp and giggle. I'm on safer ground now, but still wildly aware of Sage and the way she’s got one eye on me and one on her students. It’s like she’s multitasking on a level I can't even fathom.

Another boy pipes up, waving a hand. “Did you ever fight a shark?”

“A shark?” I pretend to think hard, warming up to the attention and maybe even playing it up for Sage a little. “Not yet, but there’s still time.” This gets a chorus of laughs and more questions, and my shoulders start to loosen, just a bit. Sage joins us, her presence both calming and completely unnerving at the same time.

“You’re a hit,” she says, folding her arms in a way that makes it impossible not to notice her. I want to be witty, to say something that’ll knock her as off balance as she’s knocked me, but instead, I just stand there, staring again like an idiot.

“You think?” I finally manage, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m, uh, glad I didn’t scare them off.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughs, and it sounds like a promise. “You’ve made their day.”

It’s only then that I realize I’ve completely lost track of time, wrapped up in Sage’s magnetic pull and the whirlwind of her classroom. The attention's still on me, every little head turned my way, but I’m back to feeling like I'm the new kid here, in over my head but maybe not entirely minding it.

I catch Sage’s eye again, and it hits me how totally exposed I am. But there’s something in her expression that makes it almost okay. More than okay, even. This is not what I expected when I walked in. Not even close.

A few of the kids start cleaning up their papers and art supplies, the frenzied energy shifting into something more contained. I feel the panic start to subside, replaced by a strange, hopeful uncertainty.

She moves closer, and I swallow hard. “I’ve, uh, never done this before. You know, talked to a class.” Or fallen in love at first sight. I guess it’s my day for firsts.

“You’re a natural,” she says, and I believe her, even if I shouldn’t.

We’re standing there, the sounds of packing up all around us, and I’m already planning how I can end up back here, whether or not Beckett forces me. The kids shout their goodbyes as Sage walks me to the door. My usual composed self is nowhere in sight, but that seems like a problem for another day.

“See you, Ian!” Sage says, with a look that leaves the door wide open, but I know I need to step back and plan so I don’t fuck this up. Something this important needs all my focus and attention.

I grin, finally. “Yeah,” I say, surer of that than anything else. “See you.” Then I'm out the door, heart racing, my footing as unsteady as it was when I came in, but in a way that feels damn near perfect. Ms. Sage Higgins is going to be seeing a lot of me from now on.