Chapter 4 #2
“And I talked it over with Lynsey,” he continues.
“I don’t go on many calls with you men as it is, so it’s not like I’m leaving the field to take a step up.
As battalion chief, I would have greater influence over the way we handle fires across the county, and more say in personnel, policies …
Also, there’s the pension. It’s … well, it’s commensurate with a promotion. We wouldn’t have to move …”
“You’re considering the position?” My brain finally catches up.
“I am. Seriously. And that’s why I pulled you in here.
I’ll need someone to take my place as captain.
Any of you would do the job well, but I think you have the balance of leadership skills and people skills.
Greyson’s too … Well, he’s Greyson. Focused, excellent, thoughtful.
But he’s not as connected in the way you are.
And Patrick’s a strong candidate, but he’s already juggling the podcast and his role here.
Not that you don’t juggle two worlds, but you do it in a way that doesn’t seem burdened or overwhelmed.
And Dustin’s still our rookie. He’s great.
Down the road I think he’ll find himself rising to greater responsibility, but he’s still new. ”
“So you want me …” My voice trails off.
“I want you to consider applying for the captain position. I won’t be the one doing the hiring of my own replacement, but I’ll have a strong say in the selection.”
I nod. “I’ll give it some serious thought.”
“I’m going to mention it to the other guys, to be fair about this. But I want you to know I’ve given this a lot of consideration and I think you’d be the ideal candidate. You’ve been riding in the officer seat for years now. That position makes you naturally the next in line.”
“We don’t always function that way,” I say, honestly.
“The guys respect you, Cody. And they relate to you. That’s a winning combination. All of you are strong in your own ways, but the balance between heart and decisiveness makes you a solid choice.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Well, think it over.”
“I will.”
“And keep this conversation between the two of us.”
I nod again, pushing my chair out and standing. Something heavy settles under my ribs—the kind of weight that comes with choosing a future I haven’t fully sorted out and didn’t expect to have to so abruptly.
When I walk back into the bay, the guys are working through SCBA checks. I keep my expression neutral when a few heads lift before putting on a smile and joining Greyson. I pop open the compartment next to the one he’s inspecting and busy myself checking the saws and axes inside.
The rest of our shift, my mind circles around the conversation with Captain.
I’ve barely allowed myself to consider a promotion.
This opportunity won’t come around again for years—if even in my lifetime.
Captain. That’s a future a man could hang his hat on.
Something steady—the kind of life worth sharing if the right woman came along.
I keep my word to Captain, not mentioning anything to the three men who are as good as brothers to me.
It’s odd keeping a secret from them, though I live with my unspoken feelings for Carli.
That’s a secret I’ve grown comfortable around, like vines on an old wall.
This feels fresh—almost like a betrayal, even though my consideration is focused on them.
I drive down the familiar roads toward our ranch after shift change. Early morning light bathes the fields in long, crisp shadows.
When I pull into the driveway, her familiar red truck pulls in behind me. I grip the steering wheel, glancing into the rearview, breath stalling for a beat.
I hop out, waving. “Mornin’, Carli.”
“Hey,” she says, leaning into the back seat to grab something.
Her blonde curls are down, unbraided in a rare display. She pops the truck door shut with her hips, holding the pan with both hands.
“What ya got there?” I ask, sauntering over to her like a man approaching a fire.
She moves across our property as if she lives here. Her eyes crinkle at the edges with a smile. The sun’s early rays cast a glow across Carli as if my sister set up the lighting for one of her photo shoots.
“Biscuits. Warm from the oven.”
My hand flies up to my chest. “You’re trying to kill me, right? You know I love your biscuits.”
She smiles, almost shyly. We’re alone for the first time in months, unless you count that morning in the bakery, which was sheer chaos and nowhere near as intimate as this moment feels.
We both know we can’t linger here. I take the porch steps and hold the front door open for Carli.
She passes by. I inhale warm butter and flour, layered with the cold morning air she’s bringing in with her, and just the faintest whisper of straw and earth from her boots. Home.
She pauses just before crossing the threshold. “Are you trying to inhale my biscuits, Cody?”
“I’ll take ’em how I can get them,” I say with a wink.
She laughs, then steps past me into the house, aiming straight for the kitchen. I trail behind her like a lovesick puppy.
McKenna walks into the kitchen from the main room, a drowsy smile on her face, still wearing her pajamas. “What do I smell?” She lifts the tinfoil off a corner of the casserole dish. “Biscuits? Oh my goodness, I missed Tennessee.”
I rush at her, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around.
“Cody!” she squeals, slapping at my back and then collapsing into a hug.
She quickly retaliates for my sneak attack by tipping her face into my neck and blowing raspberries as if we’re kids again. I drop her to her feet and hold her at arms’ length, taking her in.
Carli walks to the island, setting down the dish of biscuits and greeting Mom, leaning in for a hug.
“Want coffee?” I ask Mac.
“Does a rooster scream at four a.m.?” She rubs her temples.
“Screaming roosters?” I chuckle, grabbing for a mug and lifting the fresh pot. “You’re losing touch with your roots.”
“Coffee?” I ask Carli.
She shakes her head and returns her attention to my mom. They’re leaned in toward one another, backs against the counter across the kitchen. It’s very conspiratorial and cozy.
It’s good to have Carli here. She doesn’t come around like this when Mac’s away, and I miss her easy presence more than I should.
“You look different,” I say quietly to my sister, handing her the hot mug I just poured.
“I don’t,” she insists, taking a sip of her coffee and pursing her lips. “Creamer! This needs creamer. Are you a heathen?” I huff out a laugh and stride to the refrigerator, returning with the creamer.
“I’m still me,” McKenna says, dousing her coffee until it’s practically white. She sips the cup again and sighs contentedly. Her glare at me is playful. “Don’t pull that you’ve turned into a Californian stuff on me.”
“What’s this, then?” I lift a lock of her hair, the natural brown streaked with blonde highlights.
She shakes her head, freeing her hair from my hand. “Highlighting my hair doesn’t mean I’m converted.”
A flicker of something crosses her face—her eyes say something more is going on.
“Are you and West okay?” I instantly jump into the familiar role of my sister’s protector.
She’s got four of us, plus Mom and Dad. No wonder she’s always had this I can do it myself attitude. Still, if her boyfriend’s doing anything to make her unhappy, I won’t be the only one booking a flight to whatever place he’s filming this time. Iceland? Greenland? Someplace cold and remote.
“We’re great …” McKenna’s smile is wistful, not quite reaching her eyes. “... considering he’s off to the alpine tundra for half a year.”
“Sorry,” I say. And I mean it. It has to stink falling in love with someone you can’t be with consistently.
My jaw flexes. That feeling’s one I’m more than familiar with. And it definitely stinks.
“We’re good, though,” her voice fills with warmth. “Better than good.”
She holds her hand up. It takes a moment for me to register what I’m looking at. Engaged.
“You’re engaged,” I say, allowing the truth to seep one layer deeper.
“You’re finally getting the memo,” McKenna says with a soft laugh.
“Yeah. And I like him for you,” I remind both of us.
“Me too,” she says with a silly lovesick grin. “A lot.”
We settle around the table, the gravy Mom had on hand slathered over the fresh biscuits. My phone pings with a text. I pull it out.
Garrett: North fence is down—got eight cows out with some calves. We need all hands. Hoss is not happy. He’s pushing at an old post.
I type out a quick response, the scrape of my chair marking the shift in my morning. I shove the last bite of biscuits into my mouth mid-stride. My heart rate kicks up. Dropping my plate into the sink, I head toward the door.
Hoss is one of our breeding bulls. If his herd broke through the fence, he’s itching to get to them. This time of year, the bulls get restless. We’re calving. All that action tempts the bulls to reunite with their cows.
“Sorry,” I say to the three women still gathered around the table. “Fence down. We’ve got some escapees.”
“Need help?” Carli’s already standing, carrying her plate to the sink.
“I’ve got a Zoom call, or I’d go with you,” McKenna says.
“Yeah, you’re definitely not being converted to the life of celebrity ease and leisure, Hollywood,” I tease her.
“I had Zoom calls when I lived here full time,” she defends.
“I know. I’m just giving you trouble. We’ve got this. Don’t worry. They’d be handling it without me if I were on shift.”
I grab my coat from the hook. Carli steps up next to me and grabs hers.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
She pops a hand on her hip and says, “I can wrangle.”
“Never been a question, Chuck. Let’s go, then.”