Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Mac
“ W ell, shit.”
I propped a boot on the engine’s metal bumper and plucked the toothpick from my lips, clicking open the email from Cathy.
Mandatory captains meeting .
I appreciated that she never minced words and was straight to the point. Her email had no other information in the body of the text other than the date, time, and location.
“What’s wrong, Captain?” LT Nate Williams flicked his empty Sprite bottle into the recycle bin at the corner of the bay and joined the rest of the guys relaxing in front of the commercial fans, enjoying the shade from the late-afternoon August sun.
Station Four was the newest firehouse in the city. We had the newest engine, a beautiful Sutphen, equipped to my specs since they’d put me at lead on the build-out team. She was gorgeous. Black top, gleaming red carriage, could hold my crew of four, and was one of my favorite things about being at the new station.
I’d done my time for the department and earned my place as supervisor of Station Four. Over the course of the past twenty-five years, I’d taken nearly every assignment given to me, been on the planning committee for every special event, organized and coordinated funerals, and driven the vintage open-cab truck in so many parades I’d lost track. I think everyone had just assumed I’d always do it.
But my work ethic and ability to make things happen had paid off when they’d asked if I wanted to help lead in getting the new station completed. I’d fought tooth and nail for it, but we had a gorgeous, tricked-out new engine, even if I’d given up on fighting for other updates.
I had five years to retirement, and I was going to enjoy the hell out of them at my station and let some other grunt take command over the brass’s special pet projects. It was time to pass the torch.
Four pairs of eyes waited for me to answer Nate’s question.
“Mandatory meeting tomorrow morning. So much for getting down to the lake house. I barely have time to make it to the meeting after pass down. Who knows how long they’ll keep us. Last time it was half the day.”
“What’s the meeting about? Can you skip it?” Burgess, the newest addition to our shift and a giant pain in my ass, was doing push-ups in the corner. The guy never stopped. Always working out or doing stupid shit. We were all fucked because he’d had a late-afternoon cup of coffee, and his ADHD had kicked into high gear. He’d be pestering the shit out of us to go do something soon enough.
Mo Jackson, my lead firefighter, looked at Burgess and clenched one of his big fists as if he wanted to use it. “Shut up, man. Captain doesn’t flake out. Maybe you should learn to be more like him.”
Burgess puffed up like he was offended but thought better when he caught the look on Mo’s face. Nate flopped into a rolling chair and kicked his feet up on the folding table we’d set up in the middle of the bay.
Thoren Watkins, the other firefighter on shift, picked up a deck of cards and started shuffling.
Nate clapped a hand down on the cards Thoren dealt as his phone dinged with a notification. No doubt his girlfriend. Again. The guy couldn’t go a single shift without constant check-in, a leftover effect of a time when he’d scared the shit out of her after a particularly bad call.
“Damien just sent a text,” Nate announced. “New fire chief is in the house. Went straight to the office and never came out.”
Mo picked up his drink and shuffled his ice, watching his own cards fall. “That doesn’t mean much. Probably got a bunch of administrative work to do before he can meet with the crew. I can respect that.” He glared at Thoren. “Don’t fucking deal from the bottom of the deck, you cheater.”
I grunted at Mo. He was probably right. This meeting was most likely introducing the new chief.
“I still think they should’ve given it to you, Captain,” Burgess called from the corner.
“Quit sucking up, Rookie.” Nate pitched a wadded-up ball toward him. Then immediately jumped from his chair and tossed the trash into the large bin between the bay doors.
I grunted my appreciation for his following my number one rule: Keep My Station Clean.
It was times like these that I enjoyed the most. All of the crew just hanging out at the station in between calls, when we were all kicked back, the hard work was done, and we were able to relax a bit. Time when we could forge the bonds that made it so we trusted each other when our lives depended on it.
Twenty-four hours spent in each other’s space meant we had to make things work and get along. We didn’t have to be friends for the forty-eight we were off, but most of this crew was tight even outside of the department.
Hopefully, if the call-gods were kind to us, it would be a quiet night, and we’d get some dinner and rest.
I ran my station in a way that allowed the guys to relax when we could. We worked hard early so we didn’t have to work hard all day. We never knew when shit would hit the fan and we’d be up all night.
Luckily, our call volume had declined after a record number of structure fires in the last year. We were due a break. Except for the fact that the son of a bitch who’d started them all had gotten past his security detail while he’d been laid up in the hospital and had fled.
It was just a matter of time before the bastard showed up again. I felt it in my bones, as sure as I could tell that it’d be raining within the next twenty-four hours.
“Hey, Captain? You ever hear any more about that TikTok?” Thoren asked mid-shuffle. He was nonchalant, but I wasn’t buying it.
“I don’t do social media. You know this.”
To his credit, Thoren flushed the tiniest bit. “Yeah, but Kylie is on me to try to find out if you’ve made contact. You gotta give me something.”
The guys under my command were exceptional men with exceptional women in their lives. Over the summer, they’d taken to having cookouts and bonfires and inviting me to join them. At one of those cookouts, Thoren’s girlfriend, Kylie, had stumbled on a TikTok post that had sent me into a tailspin of warring emotions.
Floating around on social media was a fifteen-year-old photo from a perfect week in paradise.
I’d gone to the island on my should’ve-been-honeymoon, intent on nursing my broken heart. Instead, I’d met the most beautiful, most complex, most responsive woman. The funniest, kindest woman I’d ever known. Our chemistry sparked the moment we laid eyes on each other, and by the end of that first night, we’d fucked twice. By the end of that week, we’d explored every fantasy either of us had ever had. I knew her body better than my own.
The caveat of our week-long fling had been not sharing any personal information, only first names. It was one wild, anonymous, nothing-but-fun fling.
By far the best week of my life.
I’d thought about Livvie over the years, wondering where she was— how she was. If she still remembered that week as fondly as I did. If she missed me like I sometimes missed her.
It didn’t pay to think too hard about what might’ve been if we’d shared anything other than first names. Hell, she might not have even given me her real name.
I’d been such a wreck before arriving on that island. My whole goal had been to forget. To drink my way through a blissful week, driving away the heartache and disappointment, along with that memory of standing solo at the wedding altar while my world fell apart.
But by the end of that week, I’d been half in love with Liv. I’d been in no shape for a relationship, determined to end the fling on a high note rather than allow it space and time to grow into something real before it crashed and burned.
My mistake.
Because over the years, Livvie had become the one who got away. Though I’d gotten over her, Liv had always been in the back of my mind. She was the standard I held other women to.
And the social media post confused the fuck out of me because it was made by a teenage girl looking for her father.
And that thought turned my insides to jelly, no matter how hard I tried to pretend otherwise.
I pushed aside the turmoil and focused on the facts. This was an old photo of me with Livvie. That’s all. The kid could belong to anyone else.
I pushed off the engine and straightened. “No.”
He squinted at me, unsure. “Is that ‘No, I didn’t make contact’ or ‘No, I don’t gotta give you anything’?”
I stuck my toothpick back in my mouth, chomping down, the mint flavor doing little to curb the nicotine I suddenly craved, and let my glare be my answer. Then, to escape further bullshit, I stalked out of the bay.
Thoren yelled after me, “Oh, come on, Capt. Kylie’s gonna keep hounding till she gets an answer. You know that.”
Nate and Thoren had found new love and settled down, and our crew had grown closer in the process. I didn’t envy their new relationships, though I appreciated the way we’d stuck together as a family with the addition of Jordan and Kylie. When the town had needed us to help with tornado recovery, when Nate had been in the hospital, and then when Thoren had, everyone had come together as a unit .
Hell, even that stupid shirtless calendar they kept roping us into… all of it strengthened the brotherhood bond.
But I’d never told anyone of my explosive fling, and they didn’t need to know anything about it now either. And I had to quit thinking of families and bullshit. That shit never did me any good anyway.
With a grunt of frustration, I shoved open the door to the living quarters and pushed my disturbing thoughts away. The past was best left in the past. Today was what mattered.
And right now, I was going to pack my bags to attend this fucking meeting first thing in the morning, instead of heading to work on my boat.
I walked into the conference room at headquarters with five minutes to spare. Nodding at the other captains, I grabbed the closest seat facing the door. This fucking meeting was infringing on my personal time, and I had a ton of shit to do.
My crew had taken one look at me this morning and hightailed it to safer parts of the station. I couldn’t seem to keep the scowl off my face, despite knowing I needed to play nice with the city administrator and mayor.
It was just an extra hour. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. But I was over the administration’s underhanded politics and HR’s fluffy, feel-good bullshit.
And, fuck, but I was exhausted.
I loved my crew and the good we did. But I was tired of the three a.m. bullshit headache calls, like last night’s run on a guy who’d been sick for three days, hadn’t taken any meds, and suddenly needed to be transported in the middle of the fucking night .
I’d find something else, a new job that didn’t require nightly adrenaline rushes, but I’d worked too damn hard for too damn long to give up on the one thing that’d kept me going—the promise of an early retirement.
From the hallway, I heard Bloom’s annoyingly jovial voice chatting it up, and the equally annoying voice of the mayor as he openly flirted with Cathy, the department’s administrative assistant.
Being at the new station meant I didn’t come to HQ as often, but Cathy was one of ours.
If that old man offended her and ran her off like he’d done his assistant… I bristled, halfway out of my seat when they entered the room. The mayor was first through the door, greeting the four of us with handshakes and back claps.
I took a sip of coffee to hide the sneer that threatened every time that asshole was around. Fucking politician.
Bloom followed in his wake, equally as fake with his too-big smile and jokes. The city manager was a nice enough guy outside the office, but when he was in city-manager mode, he had a kiss-ass way about him. The dichotomy between his two faces made me not trust him. And it was too fucking early to deal with politics and bullshit agendas today. I was supposed to be at the lake and would’ve been if they hadn’t fucked up my plans with this meeting that could’ve been an email.
I hid behind my coffee again, avoiding direct eye contact with either of them by shifting my attention to the door as the next person entered.
She was tall, decked out in the formal fire department uniform. Her stark white coat a striking contrast to the fitted black skirt. Her dark hair was coiled into a tight bun at the nape of her slender neck. She looked professional and smart, and the vaguely familiar expression on her face indicated she’d take no shit. I let my gaze roam down her body, no doubt like the rest of these assholes were doing. Across the table, Roberts was checking out her legs as she passed him. She filed in and stood next to Bloom, clasping her hands in front of her.
A glance down at her hands showed the only indication that she might be feeling something other than the calm coolness she projected. The pointer finger of one hand rubbed against the knuckle of her thumb. It had been her tell way back when we’d met at the cocktail bar. Then, the simple movement had been entrancing. Now, she twirled a shiny thumb ring, equally hypnotizing.
In an instant, I was transported back in time. The last time I’d seen her, that hair had been a glorious mass of long dark curls blowing in the wind as we’d kissed goodbye on the dock of the private resort. Before that, those curls had been splayed out over a pillow beneath me. I’d buried my face in her graceful neck, and my body in hers.
I shifted in my seat, adjusting the uncomfortable, immediate hard-on pressing against the zipper of my uniform pants.
What in the hell?
This was Livvie, my Livvie.
Except she wasn’t. She was polished, with a cold air about her.
The Livvie I remembered was flowy and bright. Soft and romantic.
This woman was professional and sharp. Not a bad thing, just a difference I couldn’t reconcile in the moment.
The mayor’s introduction was a buzz of words that didn’t penetrate. Then the city manager smiled his bright white smile and added to the noise .
All I paid attention to was the brass shield on her uniform coat, indicating that my perfect fling partner was now my new boss.
She made eye contact with each of the captains as they were introduced. From the fog, I heard my name called, and then her eyes were on mine.
A bolt of lightning ripped through me, shredding my insides. Threatening to blast me from the inside out. Every sound in the room was magnified—the scraping of chairs as they sat, the voices I’d known for so many years—all rumbling together in a massive cacophony in the too-small room. All my nerve endings lived outside of my skin, exposed, sensitive, raw. The scratch of my shirt across my back, the too-tight cuff on my arms, the press of the shears in my leg pocket. All of it was too much.
But if seeing me affected her, I couldn’t tell. She moved past me, on to the next guy, like nothing had happened, and then launched into a speech.
Hearing her speak solidified any doubts I had, as the voice I’d heard gasp in ecstasy now covered bullshit department business.
Two things hit me at once.
This was not the same woman I’d spent my perfect week with. And I was fucked because my body remembered every minute of our time together.