10. Leo （Now）
Leo (Now)
Leo was inventorying trauma bags when Lynne’s message appeared. He had to admit, reading it made him want to cut early and head over to her place as soon as he saw it. But that wasn’t possible. The station tones dropped just as he finished the last bag.
His eyes met Tracey’s—one of his crew—across the bay. “So much for an easy shift,” she said, already jogging toward the rig.
Twenty minutes later, they stood in a stranger’s front yard with their gear half-zipped, watching a thin ribbon of smoke curl from an attic vent. No flames.
Leo crawled through itchy insulation with his flashlight, tracking the sharp, plasticky smell like a hound dog until he found the scorched outlet.
His heart still did that stuttering things it always did when he heard the first hiss of heat, because they were all trained to remember how fast “nothing” could turn into “too late.”
And lately, whenever he brushed up against that edge of danger, it was Lynne’s face that flashed through his mind.
Chief Bob’s voice floated up from the ladder. “You got it?”
“Yeah,” Leo called back down. “Kill the breaker to this room, and I’ll put it out. Then we can tag the panel for inspections.”
Turns out it was an overloaded extension cord and one very embarrassed teenager, who’d DIYed a gaming nook by plugging half of his setup into a single power strip then threading extension cords end-to-end through a closet ceiling into the attic space.
The family huddled on the sidewalk, barefoot and shaken but safe.
The mom kept thanking them like they’d dragged her kids out of a fire instead of a bad decision.
Sometimes you just couldn’t make this stuff up.
Leo climbed back into the engine, helmet thunking against the seat. By the time they rolled hose and cleared the scene, the morning sun had started bleeding pink across the horizon.
So he headed straight for the showers and his apartment at close of shift.
Mike had been texting him off and on yesterday, too, asking where things were and telling him he’d be at Minka’s for breakfast if Leo wanted to join.
So he was surprised to find Mike still sitting wide awake in his living room when he arrived.
He didn’t have time to question why, though.
“Looks like you’re going to get the place to yourself for a bit,” he said as he threw some sweats into his duffle. “Lynne needs a major assist with the litter. I’m going to be there a few nights.”
Mike raised an eyebrow, and Leo could tell there was some cocky comment about to spill out of his mouth. Are you sure you’re not together? Did I interrupt something between you two? But Mike caught himself.
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Leo replied. “She said she’ll show me when I get there.”
“Okay.” Mike squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable. “Want me to grab something for you at Minka’s? I can drop it off when I’m done. Least I can do for you letting me stay a while.”
Leo’s stomach grumbled in reply. “Biscuits and gravy. Don’t judge. It’s the best thing on the menu, and I will die on that hill.”
Mike lifted his hands. “No judgment here, man.”
“I just figured, with the military and all, you were going to give me a lecture on how I ate.”
Mike snickered. “Yeah, I noticed what you left for me in the cabinets. Why do you think I’m heading out to breakfast this morning?”
“What? Oh, man.” Leo had to laugh at himself. “I’d just assumed.”
“No worries. But we were blessed with the March metabolism for a reason—to exploit it. I just wish there’d been more cold pizza in your fridge.” He stood and grabbed the spare key. “Better get going.”
“Oh, hey.” Leo cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. “Could you grab a to-go of Lynne’s usual, too? Minka knows it. I can pay you back.”
Mike shot him a glance that nearly confirmed he thought this kitten emergency might be a ruse. “Sure, man. Whatever. You two, uh, want coffees, too?”
“Yeah, I take mine black. She takes hers cream only.” Leo regretted it the minute the words left his mouth. “Don’t look at me like that, Mike. There’s nothing going on between me and Lynne.” But he knew exactly what it sounded like. And he hated that Mike probably did, too.
Mike glanced down, his lip pulling at one corner, amused that it took so little to ruffle Leo’s feathers. “This is me. Saying nothing.”
With that, he turned and left for breakfast.
When Leo arrived at Lynne’s place, the door was already unlocked, and she was frantically moving around the kitchen with bottles.
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed. “Come here. You’re about to get a crash course in bottle-feeding kittens.”
As she showed him what she was doing with the warm water bath, how to take weights, and walked him through the steps, she explained what happened the previous night—Mama’s weird behavior, Nina’s visit, how she’d been doing this every two hours by herself since yesterday.
But Leo noticed Lynne’s usual even tone and quick wit were gone, replaced by short, efficient sentences, as if she was saving the energy for bigger tasks.
She didn’t fully close a cabinet door and nearly slammed her head into it.
She set down food for Fred after they were done with the kittens, only to turn and explain to him how she needed to get Fred some food next.
Then she apologized, realizing she had, in fact, already fed Fred and Mama.
“Lynne,” he finally said, “you need a break. We’ve got two or three hours until the next weigh-in. Why don’t you go grab a nap?”
She shook her head and tried to list out everything else she needed to do between now and then. But all Leo heard were things that could wait or loose ends that didn’t need tying up at this exact moment. “And you just got off a shift,” she added. “You were up all night, too.”
“So let’s both take a nap. I’ll grab the couch here with Fred.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Okay. But no heroics if you wake up before I do.”
Leo huffed. “Don’t ask me to promise something you wouldn’t promise yourself.”
Then a message came through from Mike. Downstairs. Back door.
“Well, one more heroic thing,” Leo said. He ran downstairs to thank Mike and returned to the apartment with warm food and two coffees.
A faint smile crossed Lynne’s lips, and honestly, it was the best thing he’d seen all day. Sure, she was stressed and barely able to stand. But he’d pay Mike to deliver ten more breakfasts if it made her smile that way again.
He placed the containers on the coffee table, and they both shoved food in their mouths, Lynne seated on the carpet and him on the couch. They chatted a little about his shift, how the false fire alarms were going off randomly in the downtown buildings again.
“Yeah, that happens here sometimes, too,” Lynne said, still chewing.
“Really? That’s strange. I don’t remember coming out to O’Donnell’s for a false alarm before.”
She shrugged. “It never seems to last long enough to alert you guys.” She stood and grabbed her still-hot coffee. “This’ll have to wait until later, or I’m going to be up another six hours.”
She offered to put his in the fridge, too, but he insisted he’d sleep whether he had the coffee or not. So she stumbled, nearly comatose, toward her bedroom and paused just before she shut the door.
“Bathroom’s there,” she said, pointing at the closed door just beside the bedroom. “Towels in the cabinet beside the shower. Oh, and you brought a toothbrush?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I didn’t have an extra. Not like I’ve had anyone stay over for a while.” She tucked a strand of her glossy red hair behind her ear, either mulling over a thought or her mind grinding to a halt from exhaustion. It was hard to tell. “I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours.” She exhaled.
“See ya, Lynne.”
He thought it would be harder than this—being a guest at Lynne’s place, meeting in the kitchen every few hours to warm up milk replacer and ready the scale, watching bad reality TV when neither of them could sleep.
She ran downstairs occasionally to handle things with the bar and kept taking photos of him feeding the kittens to send to Minka for the socials.
You look comfortable ;) Minka texted him privately.
He tried to ignore it. But after a full day of bottle feeding, naps, and small talk, Leo noticed Lynne was no longer clutching to that urn pendant for dear life.
Her shoulders relaxed. She seemed comfortable around him—and he did around her, too.
Why wouldn’t he? They both pre-rinsed utensils before loading the dishwasher.
They both wanted to crank down the temperature before they slept.
Neither of them cared if they sat in silence or ate cereal for dinner.
They both obsessed over the kittens’ heating pad.
And when they each thought the other was asleep in the other room, they’d peek around the wall just to check.
Eventually, they just spoke in partial sentences, like shorthand, intuiting what the other wanted.
The first night was rough. No doubt about it. Harder than hazmat drills. But as soon as the last bottle was cleaned and set on the rack, they stood in the kitchen, facing each other as they leaned against the cabinets, mismatched mugs and triumphant smiles on their faces.
“We made it,” he said, extending his mug toward her. “Cheers.”
They clinked, and both took a few long sips. Fred was nestled on the couch alone, making biscuits in one of Lynne’s blankets and telling them both how much he enjoyed it with the volume of his purrs. They glanced at each other and laughed.
She playfully tapped one of her socked feet against his feet, covered with the ARFD-branded slippers he’d packed. “The pride runs deep, huh?”
“More like loyalty. When I find something I really like, I tend to stick with it.” His voice softened. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
Their eyes met, then she turned toward the window. “This is the best night I’ve had in a long time,” she said. As if to herself. As if to no one.
Leo raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get out much anymore, huh?”
She snorted. “No, I’m serious.” She hid her nose and mouth behind her mug again.
It shouldn’t have meant so much to him. But her voice was low and exhausted and sweet. And as the morning sun stretched out to touch her disheveled hair, kiss her cheek, warm her lips, all he could think was how much he wished he was that goddamn sun.
He felt the heat rise in his chest, his grip slipping.
“Well, I guess I better get dressed and go downstairs to intercept that delivery,” she said. “You good here for a bit?”
“Sure. May I—?”
“Please,” she said, handing him her empty mug. “I’ll catch you in a little bit.”
She disappeared into her bedroom while Leo rinsed out the mugs, checked his phone, and returned to the couch to give Fred’s butt some scratches.
He’d run into burning buildings for a living. But this was worse. No alarm bells. No warning.
Just helping rescue a litter of cats.
Just a favor.
Just her.