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“I was being polite.” He purses his lips and stares deep into my eyes. “You back?”
“Yeah.” Like a weight lifting from my shoulders, my breath comes out on a heady exhale that makes my boss grin. “I’d like to be back, Lew. I’m sticking. I’ll work really hard not to break any more bones.AndI have a suggestion on the lieutenant/chief situation.”
After thirty minutes of tense discussion, a signed contract, and a pat on my back, Nix and I push up to stand, and conclude our meeting with a shake of our hands.
Then the fire alarms sound, and our heads snap up.
“Truck three,”dispatch announces.“Ambulance three. Vehicular fire on Picton and Third. Fully engaged blaze.”
“You’re on shift.” Nixon swings around his desk and runs toward his office door.
So I shove up too, chase him all the way to the garage, and step into my turnouts.
It’s as easy as 1-2-3. As familiar to me as tying my laces every morning.
My crew does the same, and Sloane throws himself into the driver’s seat, starting the truck and preparing to propel us toward the small mushroom of smoke billowing across town.
“Patrick’s on pump,” Nix speaks into his radio as I climb in beside him. “Dawson’s on hoses. Axel, I want you front and center. Check the vehicle for passengers. If someone’s inside, I want you to run rescue. If it’s empty, you’re on search until we’re certain we don’t have a victim wandering off alone. Sloane, you’re connecting water mains.
“I want this clean, crew. No mistakes. And I swear to hell and back,” he meets my eyes and snarls, “break a bone or make me stress, and I’m kicking your ass all the way back to probie. You’ll be on the mops while the rest of us do a man’s job.”
“Ahem.” Ivy Patrick sits forward, cutting her boss with a look. “Whose job?”
Rosa flattens his lips. “A grownup’s job. Don’t fuck up.”
The truck screams from the garage and onto the street outside. The rising sun flirts with the tree line, so it sits right in our eyes and impedes vision. But Sloane is good at what he does, and the rest of us don’t need to see just yet.
“How’s it feel to be back?” Rizz fixes his gloves on his hands and grins. “Like old times?”
“Like I never should have left.”
When my phone vibrates in my pants pocket, my heart yearns to take it out and answer what I know is Hannah’s text. I fuckingknowit’s her. But I’m all about fulfilling commitments now. To her. To my sister. To Nix.
So while I’m on shift, I’m working. And while I’m working, I owe it to all the people I love to have my head in the game so I don’t fuck up.
If I’m gonna keep my careerandmy girl, then it’s time to focus.
“There it is.” Dawson glances through the windshield, eyes narrowed to battle the sun’s glare, and frowns. “Shit, that truck is toast.”
“Priority on finding the owner,” Nix orders. “Make sure they’re safe. Then we deal with the rest.”
The second we pull up on scene and Sloane hits the brakes, I fly out my side door and swing my helmet and mask on, then I run to grab a handheld fire extinguisher. While my team collects their equipment and set up, I sprint toward the blazing hunk of steel and know, if someone’s inside, they’re long dead.
“This is the fire department!” I hit the truck door with foam and shout, “Anyone in there?”
The windshield explodes, sending glass spraying across the road and trickling off my turnouts.
“Call out!”
“Hey!” a man’s voice strains and coughs from fifty feet along the street. He wears sweatpants and a shirt wet with sweat, like he’s been out for a run. His hair is messy, and his face is black with smoke. “It’s my truck, man!” He jogs closer, but the heat emanating from the fire forces him to remain at a distance. “I came back and found it this way.”
“Jase?” I back away from the truck and tear the mask from my face so he can see who I am; though, when he does, his cheeks pale. “You’re that dude from the party last night?” I clarify.
“Yeah.” He sets his hands on his hips, gulping for fresh air, and nods. “Yeah, I’m… and you’re Hannah’s boyfriend.”
Not quite.
“Is there anyone else in the truck? Anyone who could be trapped inside?”
