Blaze (Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Savannah

The snow comes down in thick, slow flakes—heavy enough to blur the mountains, soft enough to muffle my footsteps as I cross the firehouse lot.

Devil’s Peak never changes. White drifts piling against the red engine bay doors, pine trees lining the back fence, the same familiar whiff of smoke clinging to the cold air.

The same knot twisting inside my stomach like a warning.

I stall in the doorway, brushing snow off my jacket before stepping inside.

Warmth hits my cheeks immediately—heat from the industrial ventilation, the hum of engines cooling, and the murmur of early-shift chatter from firefighters who look like they’ve been up too long.

I inhale, slow and deliberate.

You’re fine. You’re back. That’s it.

But something in me rattles anyway. Something bone-deep. I shove it down.

The firehouse captain—Saxon Cole—waves me over. “Paramedic Brooks?”

My throat tightens at the sound of my own name. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re with us now. Paperwork got delayed because of the weather, but consider this your reassignment briefing. Glad you made it up the mountain in one piece.”

“Thank you.” I manage a smile, small and polite, the kind that keeps people from asking questions.

He gestures toward the long line of firefighters gathering in the central bay. “Roll call’s starting. You can step in with the med techs.”

I nod and step forward—then freeze.

Because someone says my name.

Not loudly.

Not even intentionally.

But the echo of it ricochets across the concrete floor like a spark.

“Savannah?” a voice murmurs, stunned, low, masculine.

My heart slams hard against my ribcage.

I know that voice.

I know it.

Too well. Too intimately. Too painfully.

My head turns on instinct—slow, like my body is afraid of what it’ll find if I move too fast.

And there he is.

Axel Ramirez.

Broader now. Taller somehow. Shoulders thick as steel beams beneath his navy station 19 shirt.

Dark hair longer than I remember, curling slightly at the ends like he’s been running his hands through it all morning.

A thick beard draws my eyes in. His radio is clipped to his chest like it belongs there.

He looks nothing like the boy I left behind.

Except his eyes.

Those are exactly the same.

Dark brown, intense, burning with something I can’t name—but feel everywhere.

His gloved hand slips on his radio, almost dropping it. A small clatter echoes across the bay.

The room falls quiet.

Then the whispers start.

“Holy shit…” someone mutters. “That’s Savannah.”

Another voice: “You didn’t tell us that Savannah was coming.”

Someone else whistles low. “Ramirez looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

Axel doesn’t look away from me.

I don’t look away from him.

My breath stutters, catching in my throat like a fist.

His chest rises—sharp. Like he’s been punched.

Ten years collapse between us in an instant. Every memory slams into me at once:

Running barefoot through his mother’s garden. Sneaking popsicles from his back porch freezer. Him kissing me under the oak tree at sixteen. Smoke. Screams. Flames swallowing the dark. His arms pulling me back. The moment everything ended.

I blink hard.

The firehouse around us blurs for a second. Then snaps back into focus.

Axel still hasn’t moved.

Not a muscle.

Not a breath.

He looks carved from stone—except for the way his eyes tremble in a way he probably thinks nobody can see.

But I see.

Of course I see.

Captain Cole clears his throat loudly. “Ramirez. You good?”

Axel blinks like he’s waking from a dream. His gaze tears away, dragged like it physically hurts him.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

The word is rough. Frayed. Barely there.

My pulse skitters.

He didn’t know I was coming.

I didn’t know he’d be here.

I didn’t know the universe could be this cruel.

Cole gestures me forward. “Brooks, this is Firehouse 19. You’ll be working alongside our primary medical response team. First shift starts now. Ramirez, you’ll be paired on most calls with—”

“No.” Axel’s voice slices through the air before he can stop it.

Everyone turns.

Even I stiffen.

Axel swallows hard—throat tight, jaw flexing—then forces an awkward correction.

“I mean… I’m fine with it. Sir.” He drags a hand down his face like he wishes he could disappear into the engine bay floor.

Whispers ripple:

“This is gonna be good.” “Think they dated?” “Look at Ramirez’s face, dude—obviously.”

My cheeks heat.

I don’t blush easily.

Apparently I do now.

Cole continues talking, but the words melt into background noise because Axel shifts slightly, just enough that his gaze flickers back to me.

Only for a moment.

Only long enough to feel like someone brushed a live wire down my spine.

Then he looks away again.

Roll call ends. Crews disperse. The storm outside grows louder, wind howling against the metal doors.

And Axel walks straight toward me.

His steps are heavy. Purposeful. Controlled. But I can see the tension in every line of him, tightening his shoulders, his jaw, his fists.

I brace myself without meaning to.

He stops inches away—closer than any coworker should stand to another. Close enough that I feel the heat of him through my winter jacket. Close enough that the clean scent of cedar and smoke rolls over me and I have to dig my nails into my palms to stay steady.

He opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Opens it again.

Nothing comes out.

I swallow, forcing my voice to work. “Hi, Axel.”

He flinches at the sound of his name in my voice.

His eyes snap to mine. Dark. Intense. Studying every inch of my face like he’s memorizing it.

“Savannah.” My name comes out low. Rough. Like gravel dragged through fire. “You’re… here.”

“I am.” My voice wavers despite every effort to control it. “Didn’t expect to see you either.”

His jaw ticks. “No. I—” He drags in a breath. “I didn’t.”

The wind rattles the garage door. Snow whirls past the high windows.

He stares at me like I’m a mirage that might disappear if he blinks too long.

Then the captain calls for him.

He doesn’t move.

For a beat, it feels like he might say something—anything—something dangerous and cracking and years overdue.

But he only whispers:

“You look different.”

“So do you.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Something hot and pained and full of things neither of us is ready for.

Before he can speak again, Captain Cole shouts, “Ramirez! Let’s move!”

Axel tears his eyes from mine like it physically hurts.

“Be right there,” he calls back, voice strained.

He swallows once, hard.

Then takes a single step backward—just one—like distance is the only thing keeping him from breaking.

He turns away.

But at the last second, he glances over his shoulder.

And that look—raw, undone, stunned—is enough to make my breath vanish.

He disappears into the bay.

I stand frozen.

The storm winds outside roar louder. Snow hammers the roof. Voices echo in the distance.

But all I hear is the pounding of my own heart.

All I feel is the ghost of a boy I once loved… trapped inside the body of the man he became.

He didn’t say a word about the past.

Neither did I.

But both of us felt it.

Every ember.

Every burn.

Every memory we tried to bury.

And if the way he looked at me is any indication…

Those ashes are about to ignite.