Chapter 5
Theo
“You’re thirty-one years old, Theo.” Grandma sets a plate of cookies in front of me like she’s serving an indictment. “When am I getting great-grandchildren?”
I grab a cookie before she can launch into the whole speech. The one I’ve heard at least twice a month since I turned thirty. “I’m working on it, Grandma.”
“Working on what? You don’t even have a girlfriend.” She settles into her armchair with a grunt, eyeing me like I’ve personally failed her life’s mission. “All your friends are settling down. When is it your turn?”
“My friends aren’t settling down. Cole is married to his job, Marco barely speaks to humans, and Jake’s—”
“Jake Morgan has that beautiful sister back in town. Single mother, very nice girl.” She waves a hand. “You should meet someone like that. Responsible. Family-oriented.”
My throat goes dry. “Grandma—”
“I’m just saying. You’re not getting any younger. I’m not getting any younger.” She leans forward with that look that means she’s about to get emotional. “I want to see you happy before I die.”
“You’re not dying.”
“I’m eighty-three. Every day is borrowed time.” She pushes the plate closer. “Take another cookie. You’re too skinny. Firefighting burns too many calories.”
I take two cookies because arguing with Korean grandmothers is a losing battle. “I should check your smoke detectors before I go.”
“They’re fine. You checked them last week.”
“Then I’ll recheck them. It’s what I do.”
She lets me escape to inspect smoke detectors that definitely don’t need inspecting, but I can feel her watching me the whole time. Probably already planning my entire future in her head.
The problem is, there is someone. Someone I’ve been noticing more than I should. Someone who makes my grandmother’s words hit differently than they usually do.
But she’s Jake’s sister.
And that makes her completely off-limits.
Station 47 smells like coffee and cleaning solution when I walk in for my shift. The trucks gleam in their bays, freshly washed by the morning crew. Everything in its place, ready for the next call.
Lieutenant Cole is in his office doing paperwork. I can see him through the glass, scowling at his computer screen like it personally offended him.
“Rough morning?” I lean against the doorframe.
“Insurance companies are Satan’s gift to humanity.” He doesn’t look up from the screen. “They’re demanding seventeen different forms before they’ll pay out for the café fire.”
“That’s their specialty.”
He grunts in agreement, still typing. “How’s your grandma?”
“Same as always. Demanding great-grandchildren and questioning all my life choices.”
“Sounds about right.” Cole finally looks up. “You good for the overnight shift next week? Henderson called in sick again.”
“Yeah, I can cover.” I grab a chair and drop into it. “Have you talked to Jake recently?”
“Yesterday. Why?”
“Just wondering how his sister’s doing. That was a close call the other day.”
Cole’s expression doesn’t change, but his fingers pause on the keyboard for just a second. “She’s fine. Shaken up, but physically okay.”
“Good. That’s good.” I should drop it. Should change the subject to anything else. “The kid, too?”
“Tommy is resilient. Already back to normal, according to Jake.” Cole returns to his screen. “Why the sudden interest?”
“No reason. Just the usual post-rescue follow-up concern.”
He makes a noncommittal sound that could mean anything.
I leave before I say something stupid. Before I admit that I’ve been replaying that rescue in my head for two days. Not just the professional parts—the technique, the timing, the successful extraction. But the other parts. The personal parts.
The way Rachel looked at me when I handed Tommy to the paramedics. The relief and gratitude and something else I couldn’t quite name. The way Tommy’s small arms wrapped around my neck, trusting me completely.
The way I caught myself thinking about what it would be like if they were mine to protect, not just for one emergency, but all the time.
I head to the equipment bay and start my shift checks. Hoses, nozzles, and breathing apparatus. Everything methodical and familiar. The kind of work that usually clears my head.
It doesn’t work today.
The rescue keeps replaying.
I’m restocking the ambulance when it hits me again—Tommy’s weight in my arms, his small body shaking with coughs, his terrified eyes looking up at me through the oxygen mask. The absolute trust that I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
“You’re thinking about the Morgan kid.” Garcia appears beside me with fresh supplies. “You’ve been staring at that same box of gauze for five minutes.”
“Just making sure we have enough.”
“We always have enough. You’re the most organized person on this crew.” She dumps her armload into the ambulance. “The kid’s fine, by the way. I checked with the hospital yesterday. No smoke inhalation damage, no injuries.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“His mom, too. Rachel. She’s okay.” Garcia studies me. “You know them personally. Through Jake?”
“Yeah. I’ve known Jake since we were kids. Rachel, too, I guess. Though she moved away for a while.” I stack the remaining supplies with more force than necessary. “Just glad they both made it out.”
Garcia nods and moves on to other tasks, leaving me alone with thoughts I shouldn’t be having.
The thing is, I haven’t just known Rachel since she was a kid. I’ve known her since she came back to town three months ago, a completely different person than the awkward teenager I remembered. A woman with her own life, her own struggles, her own kid to raise.
And I’ve been noticing.
Not in any way I’d admit out loud. Not in any way that crosses lines. Just… noticing. The way she’s patient with Tommy, even when he’s testing every boundary. The way she showed up at that café every day and worked twice as hard as she needed to because that’s who she is.
I noticed. And then I carried her son out of a burning building, and that noticing turned into something bigger. Something I have no right to feel.
Because she’s Jake’s sister. Because she just escaped a bad relationship. Because I’m supposed to be his friend, not the guy thinking about his sister like this.
The alarm sounds before I can spiral further, a medical call, a possible cardiac event, two blocks from the station.
We move.
The call turns out to be a panic attack, not a heart attack. The elderly man grew scared when his chest tightened. We calm him down, check his vitals, and transport him to the hospital for observation.
By the time we get back, it’s nearly evening. My shift ends in an hour.
Jake’s truck pulls into the parking lot as I’m logging the call. He climbs out looking tired, hair sticking up like he’s been running his hands through it.
“Hey.” He nods at me. “You got a minute?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Harvest Moon Festival tomorrow night. You coming?”
I blink at the subject change. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Well, plan on it now.” Jake crosses his arms. “Rachel needs to get out of the house. She’s been staring at job listings and spiraling since the fire. I’m bringing her and Tommy, and I need backup.”
“Backup for what?”
“For making sure she has a decent evening instead of just pretending to. You know how she is. She’ll smile and say she’s fine and then go home and stress about everything.” He looks at me directly. “I’m asking as a friend. Come to the festival. Help me keep her distracted.”
The smart answer is no. The smart answer is to create distance, to stop noticing, to let Jake handle his sister without my complicated feelings getting in the way.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks. Seven o’clock. Main entrance.” He heads back to his truck, then pauses. “And Theo? Just… be normal around her, okay? She’s dealing with enough without people treating her like she’s fragile.”
“I’m always normal.”
He snorts. “You’re never normal. But try anyway.”
After he leaves, I stand in the parking lot trying to figure out what just happened. Jake asked me to come to the festival. To help keep Rachel distracted. To be around her.
It is either the best or the worst possible scenario.
I think about the restaurant while I’m showering after my shift. Can’t help it. Money stress always brings it back.
Three of us opened that place together. Daniel, Christian, and I were college friends who wanted to build something. We pooled everything we had, took out loans, and found the perfect location in Portland.
Theo’s Table. My name is on the sign. My recipes are on the menu. My trust in people who didn’t deserve it.
They started skimming six months in. Small amounts at first. Stuff I didn’t notice because I was too busy running the restaurant, perfecting dishes, and managing staff. By the time I caught on, they’d drained the accounts and disappeared with over a hundred thousand dollars.
My hundred thousand dollars.
The loans were in my name. The lease was in my name. Everything fell on me when they vanished.
I spent two years drowning in that debt and working three jobs, selling everything I owned, barely sleeping. The restaurant closed within a year. My credit tanked. My belief in people died somewhere around month eighteen.
That’s when I saw the firefighter recruitment poster, standing outside a bank that just denied my loan extension request, staring at this image of people who saved lives instead of ruining them.
It felt like a sign.
Or maybe I was just desperate for something that mattered. Something where success meant keeping people alive instead of keeping spreadsheets balanced.
Either way, I joined. Moved back to Millbrook Falls, where the rent was cheaper, and my grandmother could feed me when money got tight. Spent three years training and working and slowly, painfully, paying off every cent I owed.
Last payment cleared six months ago. I’m finally free. Finally starting over with nothing hanging over me.
And now I’m developing feelings for my best friend’s sister, like I haven’t learned anything about making wise choices.