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When she'd arrived at work and received the news that Jake had switched shifts, she thought she might cry.
"Where's Jake?" she'd asked.
"On a new shift," Hank said, inspecting the engine as he liked to do before his shift. Hank had OCD and thus she always felt prepared for any call that rolled their way. The man was fanatical about everything being perfect on the truck and inside the station.
"What? When did this happen?"
Hank shrugged. "Chief called me yesterday."
"Who's taking his place?"
"Coop."
"Did Jake say why?"
"Nope," Hank said, turning from her. "But last shift you and him were weird and then I heard something from Marilyn Boutte about Jake and Clint fighting over you. That's gonna be a problem, Eva. You know."
"It's not a problem. Jake and I aren't anything." At least not at that moment. But maybe they had a shot and, if so, they'd have to figure things out with the department. Eva wasn't sure they had a fraternization policy. Still, she and Jake were the same rank, so there could be no issue... until Wendell retired and one of them moved up.
Hank eyeballed her. "Jake's Jake. Probably got pissed at Clint for liking you. You know those two have a jealousy thing between them. And you definitely have an admirer." He pointed toward the door leading inside the station.
Eva made a face and then went inside to find a huge bouquet of white roses and a card. They were from Clint and the card simply readI'm sorry.
She wanted to smash the vase. How dare he send her flowers? He owed her a face-to-face apology. And he damn sure didn't have the authority to send her flowers... as if he was still vying for her affections.
"Oooh, I don't think any one of us has ever received flowers before," Dutch trilled, clasping his hands and batting his eyes.
"Stuff it, Dutch," Eva growled, ripping up the card and tossing it into the trash can. "I don't want them. Take them to your wife. Maybe your old ass will get laid."
Then she stomped back to her room, shutting the door on Cooper's annoying laughter.
And that had been her introduction to the new and not improved C shift. Needless to say, she went to bed early that night. As she lay there in the lumpy bed in her paneled room at the firehouse, she longed to talk to Jake. But his message had been clear. He was staying away from her.
What kind of move was left to her? Did she confront him? Wait on him to come to his senses? Yeah, that one wasn't a good one.
Or maybe she should just-
The alarm sounded.
''Ah, shit," Eva breathed, struggling out of her T-shirt and reaching for her bra. Tugging on the blue uniform pants she'd abandoned in the corner, she gathered her hair into a knot, stretching the elastic rubber band around it. She really wasn't in the mood for this tonight. She was still catching up on her rest from nursing Charlie through his illness, and she'd slept badly since Jake dumped her. Going out to what was likely a false alarm would prevent her from getting the rest she so badly needed.
She pushed out and joined the guys in the bay. "What's up?"
"Alarm went off at Burlison's Tires. 911 dispatch said visual confirmation of smoke by someone driving by."
"Probably Jimbo drunk again and smoking near the alarm. He got out of line when God handed out brains. We've had two false alarms this year from that moron." Dutch huffed and puffed getting into his coat.
"Let's go," Hank called, ignoring Dutch's comments.
Eva slid into her overalls and bunker coat, pulling the Nomex hood in place. Already she could feel the cloying heat of the oppressive uniform. Then she grabbed her SCBA tank and tucked her helmet under her arm. She slid into her jump seat and then remembered for the first time ever that Jake wouldn't be there beside her.
“Can you give me a hand?" Cooper said, indicating the flap of the Nomex hood that hung out.
"Sure." Eva helped Cooper and then looked over at Dutch, whose bunker coat still had Velcro issues. "You really should fix that."
"I tried. I need to send it off but we don't have an extra one that I can fit into. Moon took it."
Hank hit the lights and sirens and everyone prepared for a possible blaze… even though they'd probably find a drunk Jimbo passed out in the middle of an alarm. Securing their SCBA masks and strapping the air tanks onto their backs, they counted off the seconds. If there was an active fire in the tire store, it could get out of control fast. Tires burned hot and issued a buttload of smoke and chemicals.
