Chapter 3
THREE
LARKIN
I couldn’t sleep, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. I stared at the ceiling for three hours while my dragon vibrated and the sensation reminded me of an idling engine.
At two a.m. I gave up and got myself some water. At three I reorganized the spice rack. I did push-ups on the living room floor until my arms shook at four thirty.
Station 12 was quiet when I arrived at five thirty, half an hour early because sitting at home with nothing to do was worse than being at the station.
The engine and ladder truck gleamed under the bay lights.
I did a walkaround out of habit, even though everything had been checked the night before.
Routine kept my brain from wandering to places it shouldn't go.
Colin and Dustin rolled in at six, followed by Ken, our engineer, and Janice, our paramedic. The shift change was the usual bedlam of gear swaps, equipment checks, and the outgoing crew giving a rundown of the previous twenty-four hours.
“It was a quiet night,” the off-going lieutenant told me, and he ran over the details.
It was a Monday, and Mondays at the station followed a rhythm I could set my watch by. There were equipment checks and inspections, followed by station chores. Colin mopped the bay floor while Ken ran the engine to check fluid levels and Dustin restocked the medical bags.
All of it was run-of-the-mill, except I kept reaching for my phone.
Colin leaned on his mop. “Are you expecting a call?” I tucked the phone in my pocket. “Because you've checked your phone four times since we started.”
“Stay focused." I pointed to a spot he'd missed near the bay door, and he went back to mopping.
I pulled an SCBA pack off the rack, but my hands fumbled the regulator test, something I'd done hundreds of times. The face piece slipped, though I caught it before it hit the floor.
“Butterfingers,” Janice called from the medical cabinet.
“The seal was slippery.” I held it up, and she turned back to her inventory.
At ten, we ran a drill where we advanced a hose line into the training room and put water on a simulated fire. I demonstrated the technique first, crouching low with the nozzle. The hose was stiff with water, and I had a hundred and fifty feet of it snaking out the door behind me.
“Do short bursts," I told my crew. "You're not trying to drown the room. Cool the gases overhead then hit the fire."
Colin took the nozzle next, and he did great, but my attention kept drifting.
I'd be watching the drill and evaluating his technique.
But my mind would wander back to the drinks table with my hand on a water bottle and an omega saying, “See you out there, Lieutenant,” with a sharpness that made my chest ache.
After the drill, I retreated to my office which was just a desk crammed in the corner of the watch room. I pulled up Station 9's page on the county fire department website. The staffing information was public, and I scrolled through the roster until I found him.
Percy Madden. He hadn’t been on their competition roster last year.
There was no photo on the official page, but I opened my personal phone and searched his name. I found him on social media, and I was a little embarrassed that I’d gone looking for him. And why didn’t he have his account set to private? Any weirdo could check him out.
His posts were mostly food pictures, selfies at the gym, and photos with his crew. In one he was sitting on the bumper of Station 9's engine and he was grinning at whoever was behind the camera. I sniffed, thinking I might have been able to pick up his scent through the screen, which was silly.
I put the phone face down on the desk. But a reminder of Percy’s fingers gliding over mine and a hint of his scent that I’d backed up in my memory closed the gap between us.
I looked at the pic of him on the bumper again.
Then put the phone down. Seconds later I picked it up again.
Gods, I was like a kid, permanently attached to my device.
My dragon disagreed but didn't argue, which was his version of letting me stew in my own stubbornness.
We got a medical call in the afternoon, and I did my assessment on scene while Janice took vitals.
The patient was a middle-aged man with a history of cardiac issues.
We put him on oxygen, got a line started, and the ambulance crew transported him to the hospital.
I wrote up the report back at the station and didn't think about Percy once during the call because I was a professional and I had a job to do.
But as soon as the paperwork was done and my pen hit the desk, the vibrating started again. Percy’s scent crept back into my head as if it was stalking me.
By four o'clock, I'd talked myself into and out of going to The Sidedoor six times.
Harold, the owner, was a wolf shifter who'd been running the bar between Danvers and Trenton for a decade.
He knew everyone. He also had a talent for not asking questions, which made him the perfect person to approach for a phone number without it turning into gossip.
At five, my shift ended, and I was in my truck heading toward The Sidedoor before I convinced myself to go straight home. The bar was quiet, as it was too early for the evening crowd. Harrold was behind the counter wiping glasses.
“Larkin.” He nodded. “I’ve not seen you here in a while. Beer?”
I asked for water and fidgeted with a coaster, flipping it between my fingers and tearing sheds off it. “I need a favor.” He gave me the water. “I need a phone number. It’s for someone from Station 9.”
I tensed, waiting for questions, though Harold was pretty good at minding his own business. His brows shot up, though.
“That's new. Usually your guys come in here to complain about Station 9, not call them.”
“It's not station business.” That was true, but I wasn’t about to tell him why I wanted it. Harold didn't push. I gave him the name. He scrolled through his phone and scribbled a number on a napkin.
“Here it is. Percy Madden.”
Did my expression give too much away because Harold smirked as he slid the napkin toward me.
“He's good people. Don't be an ass.”
“Never.”
He gave me a look but didn’t respond. He’s probably witnessed more odd encounters than a firefighter asking for another firefighter’s phone number.
I drove home with the napkin in my pocket pressing against my thigh. It sat on my kitchen counter while I cooked pasta, one of the things I could make without burning. It stared at me while I ate and washed up and wiped down the counter.
My dragon waited and didn’t push. He was patient in a way I envied.
At eight, I picked up my phone and typed the number in. My thumb hovered over the text box. What was I supposed to say? Hey, I know we've never had a real conversation, but the universe says you're mine and I can't stop smelling you even though you're miles away?
I bounced the phone on my palm and wrote something more direct. We should talk about what happened at the barbecue.
I hit send before I could delete it and backed away from the phone. I couldn’t bear to read his message or wait and never receive one.
Nothing happened for ten minutes, then twenty, and an hour.
I told myself he was on shift, in the shower, or was in an area with lousy service.
Convincing myself it didn't matter if he responded tonight or tomorrow, I sat in front of the TV, flicking through channels and settling on nothing.
My dragon was pacing inside me as I checked the phone multiple times.
At nine fifteen, the phone buzzed.
I don't know what you're talking about.
What the heck? I stared at the message. My dragon wished he could text his dragon counterpart and asked me to teach him how to do it.
If I spoke to your dragon, I’m sure he would disagree.
I didn’t have to wait long for a response this time. But there was a pause and those ridiculous three dots that I cursed.
Fine. Where?
I exhaled, and my dragon stopped complaining and pacing, and now instead of a vibration, there was a knot of anticipation in my belly.
I sent Percy the location of a trailhead between our two towns.
It was far enough from both stations that no one would see us and suggested a time tomorrow afternoon.
Okay.
My heart was hammering as if I'd just run a ladder climb in full gear, and I counted the hours between now and our meeting, hoping I’d be able to sleep tonight. But that was unlikely.