Chapter Nine Noah
“You were in the Marines, right?”
I’m halfway through a push-up when Lila flings the question at me out of nowhere. I pause, hovering a few inches above the tile, and do the quick work of reorienting my brain around the unexpected inquiry.
I’ve gotten good at it since my discharge two years ago.
It’s no longer repression and avoidance, but a careful process that, once my therapist guided me through it a few times, has become an automatic way for me to accept the bad things I’ve seen and understand they’re part of the past. Not the present.
As in, I’m looking at glossy linoleum, smooth and flat underneath my strong and healthy body.
Not concrete rubble cutting into my half-conscious form.
I’m breathing clean, September-chilled air floating in through the open door of the truck bay, not dust-clouded wind that clings to the lining of my lungs.
I hear my Station 47 family chatting and laughing all around, not the high-pitched ringing that comes in the aftermath of a deafening explosion. I smell gasoline and my laundry detergent and Lila’s floral perfume, not smoke and blood.
The entire routine takes me barely two seconds, but Lila is already rushing to speak before I can respond.
“Was that rude of me? God, I really just threw that at you out of nowhere. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
I push myself up fully and then shift to sit up on my knees. She’s perched on a stool, fiddling with her phone, currently attached to a small tripod and a portable ring light.
“Why would it be rude? It’s just a question.” I toss a grin at her when she glances up briefly. “Yeah, I was a Marine.”
“What was it like?”
The most difficult thing I’ve ever done. They tear you down and build you back up again. Sometimes in training I couldn’t tell the difference between the sweat and the tears on my face.
“It was challenging.”
Lila observes me. I feel a little itchy under her gaze, especially when she looks this serious. I prefer to be the reason people are smiling or laughing. And this woman, with all her golden charm and sparkly eyes, is usually quick to smile and laugh.
“More challenging than being a firefighter in New York City?” she presses. Her phone and the attached equipment lay useless in her lap as she fixes her full attention on me.
When she enlisted my help for content creation today, I didn’t think it would come with an interrogation. Not that I really mind. If a pretty girl is requesting my presence, I’ll happily tell her whatever she wants to know, even if it’s as mundane as my grocery list or my leg day routine.
“Yeah.” When she waits for me to elaborate, her lips pouting thoughtfully, I give in way too easily. “Um, they sent us to Eastern Europe during the Russian invasion of Ukraine, just in case.”
“Oh.”
“And some of us didn’t like sitting around and waiting to be useful, so we volunteered to fight with the Ukrainian forces.”
Lila blinks at me in surprise.
I shrug, as if it’s really no big deal.
“I wasn’t there for long, but it was pretty gruesome,” I admit.
“That’s very heroic of you.”
“Not really,” I respond automatically.
She tilts her head to the side quizzically. It’s an adorable gesture, but this is a serious conversation.
“I don’t really see it as an act of heroism that I volunteered.
It wasn’t my homeland that was getting attacked.
I had the privilege of choice, but the men I fought beside were watching their own people suffer.
They were truly fighting for something. I was just there because I felt I had a duty to do the right thing. ”
“That’s… wow.”
“I could have chosen not to fight or at least just gone home when we were granted leave, you know? But a lot of them didn’t even have homes to go back to anymore.”
Lila frowns. I try not to flinch. Don’t frown. I don’t like it when I make people frown.
“Anyway, I ended up busting my leg, so they sent me back to the States, gave me a fancy medal, and now I have a really sexy scar on my thigh.”
Still frowning. Red alert. “Busted your leg? How?”
Don’t worry about it. I’m okay now. Please smile. “Uh, some shrapnel hit me. It wasn’t even that big of an explosion. Not as dramatic as you’re probably thinking. It was actually kind of annoying that they discharged me, but then I found my way to the FDNY.”
“You really care about being useful.” It’s not a question.
I rise from the floor. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I think if everyone cared about helping others as much as you clearly do, the world would be a much better place.”
I smirk at her. “You should put that on a greeting card, gorgeous. That was sweet.”
Lila rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs on her lips. “Anyway, I’ll stop being nosy. Let’s get started, okay, gorgeous?”
I wink at her. “You’re the boss. Just tell me what to do.”
Her smile sharpens into something vaguely wicked at that and I have to bite my tongue from teasing her. Does she enjoy ordering people around? I prefer to be the dominant one in bed, but I like the idea of seeing if she could gain the upper hand.
Except this is my workplace. This is a professional dynamic. I’m merely a temporary cast member of her Save A Hero campaign, and she’s only being so nice to me because she’s a nice person.
So, I should keep it in my pants.
Plus, on top of all that, I’ve seen the way the captain looks at her.
Lila snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Focus, Blondie.”
I pretend to bite at her hand, causing her to let out a burst of laughter that makes my spine feel all tingly. “Who are you calling Blondie, Blondie?”
She shakes her head. “Should I call you Dimples instead?”
I grin at her. She likes my dimples.
“You can call me whatever you want, Lila Hart.”
“Good. Now go stand over there.” She points to the back of one of the parked trucks. It’s midmorning and the city is having a slow day, so most of the staff on duty are cleaning or training.
The engine I pose in front of is freshly polished to a gleam. Thanks to me. Or rather, thanks to Hargrove, who has taken it upon himself to give me a disproportionate number of chores. Not because he’s still trying to punish me for the kitten debacle, but because he knows I like to keep busy.
Like Lila said, I guess I really do like to be useful.
“Okay,” she says, aiming her phone camera setup at me from a few feet away. “We’re doing the grand tour, alright? No fluff, no cheeky remarks. And keep your shirt on, if you don’t mind.”
I jut out my lower lip in a dramatic pout. “But how will they recognize me without my incredible physique on display?”
“The entire point of this is that they recognize you with your clothes on. Acting professional.”
I roll my eyes. Obviously, I feel fucking horrible that my stunt has triggered a chain reaction that’s led to the possible defunding of our station, but I still can’t let go of the opinion that what I did wasn’t a huge deal. It was just a bit of fun. Also, the kitten really was stuck.
“You know, for the record,” I begin, “the only reason I took my shirt off in the first place that day was because there was a stain on it from lunch. I didn’t want people to think Station 47 harbored a bunch of slobs.”
Lila snorts. “Seriously?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Well, unfortunately, the truth doesn’t always matter that much.”
“Is that the first rule of PR?”
“No.” She winks at me. “The first rule of PR is that you do exactly what I say because I’m the expert and I have a very elaborate strategy that needs to be adhered to flawlessly.”
“What if—”
“No ifs.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
I give up and offer her a mocking salute. “You’d make a good drill sergeant.”
“Stop flirting with me.”
A chuckle slips out. Lila narrows her eyes at me in playful warning. I make a big show of snapping to attention, causing several of the guys who are halfway absorbed in their own duties nearby to laugh.
Lila has no idea, but she’s got everyone here wrapped around her finger.
Including the women and the small handful of gay guys on the crew.
It’s not just because she’s beautiful. She’s charm incarnate.
She radiates warmth. It’s the same natural sweetheart soul that Reyes has, but Lila is way more extroverted.
“And… action!” She points to me with a girlish flourish.
I spread my arms wide and smile. “Welcome to Station 47, TikTok! We’re right here in the bay… where all the magic happens. Our engines are ready to roll twenty-four-seven, with all of our equipment checked daily, because every individual second counts when we get a call.”
Lila nods behind her phone, gesturing for me to continue toward the doors to the massive gear closet at the back of the space.
I walk backwards as gracefully as I can manage, but end up reaching out to smack one of the guys in the back of the head when he attempts to trip me. Lila can edit that out afterwards.
“This is where we keep the gear, always stored out in the open like this so we can get dressed as quickly as possible,” I continue, leading Lila into the room. “In fact, if the alarm went off right now, I’d be suited up and ready to go in less than a minute.”
She nods again, making a gesture as she wants me to say more.
“If you’re lucky, I might even give you a demonstration. Comment down below if you’d like to see something like that.”
Lila beams.
The tour continues. I do my best to keep it professional, but it’s hard when the fact of the matter is that people nowadays have extremely short attention spans.
So, when we hit the kitchen, I decide to inject a little humor into it.
“This is our five-star dining facility.” I open up the fridge to showcase mismatched containers and about six different kinds of electrolyte drinks.
“On tonight’s menu we have Tony’s leftover pizza, mystery casserole that Sandra cooked up last night, and an entire shelf dedicated to various brands of hot sauce. My personal favorite is Valentina.”
“Nobody cares,” Lila deadpans.
“Ouch. I’m sure someone cares.”