Chapter 16
When we think of firefighters, many of us think of heroes running into the flames to carry damsels in distress to safety, or about half-dressed men hugging puppies for a picture on our calendars. But it is women like Elena Gonzales who change those ideas.
With brown curls in a tight bun and sharp eyes that are always assessing, she is the stunning picture of a…
I am staring at the paragraph for a full three minutes now, stunned by what I actually wrote.
Normally I use my first drafts to get an idea of the story, but this has never happened to me.
This little piece of writing is laced with personal emotions and thoughts. It’s sappy, it’s weak… it isn’t Elena.
My fingers brush over my lips. Lips that Elena kissed only two days ago—took between her teeth so carefully, before grazing them and sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
Even now, at the thought, my body responds.
I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, before I shake my head and delete what I just wrote.
You are a professional, Maya. Act like it. I nod once and start again.
Each year, the Barcelona Fire Brigade responds to an estimated 500 structural fire calls. The intensity varies from smoke alarms falsely being triggered to flames blazing out of windows in an all-consuming inferno.
Lieutenant Elena Gonzales, 39, has led her crew into more burning apartments than she can count.
The decorated veteran has not only hauled victims out of collapsing buildings, and jumped into murky waters to save drowning children, but she has also fought off wildfires on their path to consume whole villages.
All while she kept her head cool, and her team safe.
“It’s my job. My crew looks to me, so I manage my breathing, my thinking, and make only one decision at a time.”
She speaks the words with a certain nonchalance, but any firefighter who has served with her knows that Gonzales is anything but.
When you listen to her crew, the true story emerges.
A story of a fierce leader who strives to inspire, makes split decisions during heated moments, and always puts the needs of others before her own.
A woman who demands respect and loyalty simply by who she is.
A woman that proves daily that courage doesn’t come attached to a gender. This is her story.
I lean back and stare at the blinking cursor on the screen.
A smile creeps onto my lips. This is me.
The real me. Unbiased. Well, sort of. I groan.
The truth is that I can’t stop seeing her face.
She is everywhere. And I am not sure if I want to stop seeing it either.
But if I can’t keep my head in the game, it will definitely mean the end of my career.
I can almost hear Helen’s voice shrieking in my ears.
“What part of you thought it was okay to get personally involved with your source? You of all people should know how important ethics are here at Woman at the Front. Especially since we are already under scrutiny for being a feminist magazine.”
The sad part is that she’d be right. And if there is anything I hate, it’s for Helen Dubois to be right. Especially when it comes to ethics. The exact same thing we clashed over only months ago.
I shudder as I think about how determined Helen was to out superstar actress Carmen Farro. She made adaptations to the article I wrote, claiming it was the public’s right to know.
“She has a right to her privacy too, Helen.”
“She gave that up when she became an actress. This is going to print, whether you like it or not. Next week, the whole world will know that Carmen is into women. And that. Is. Final.”
I had called Carmen that same night, sobbing on the phone. Cursing myself for letting just that one detail slip. How I met her and her girlfriend for dinner. So fucking stupid.
I dig my nails into the palms of my hand thinking about that moment.
The actress had responded in shock and ended the call before I could apologize.
Two days later, she posted a TikTok video with her and Amanda, coming out on her own terms. Sort of.
By the time Woman at the Front went to print, her sexual orientation was old news and Helen was so furious that she fired me.
To now have her in the position to question my ethics does not only frustrate me—it downright frightens me.
I sigh again as I look at the words in front of me. Elena. Beautiful, powerful, smart, brave, and enticing Elena. Should I break this off? The article? The things that are happening between us?
Before I can spiral, my phone buzzes violently against the table.
My throat immediately goes dry, as I slowly reach for it.
Is it her? God, I hope it is her. After our kiss, Elena had backed off and sent me home.
She argued that I would be a liability because of shock, and that I needed a day or two to come to my senses.
I reluctantly agreed, thinking she would reach out to me.
But she didn’t. I even sent a message yesterday, but she hadn’t replied to it. Unless…
I slowly turn my phone to see if it’s her calling me, only to feel a short stab of disappointment when I see Mary’s name. It is quickly replaced by a soft smile that the woman actually deserves. I pick up.
“Mary, what a pleasant surprise.”
The chuckle on the other side of the line tells me this is exactly what the writer had aimed for. I smile, which turns into a grin when I hear Catherine mutter something in Spanish at her.
“Good to hear your voice, Maya. We have missed you.”
“We did.” Catherine grunts in the background, and now it’s my turn to chuckle.
“God, I’ve missed you too. So sorry I haven’t called. This new article, it’s…”
I trail off as my mind circles back to Elena. Beautiful, gorgeous Elena.
“Sounds like there’s a story there, querida,” the writer hums, and I nod involuntarily.
“Hm, maybe,” I muse softly. “But, how have you been?”
“Oh, none of that. Talk.”
The gentle dominance that laces her voice leaves no room for argument. In all the months that I’ve gotten to know her and her wife, I now understand how this soft and gentle writer can bring the ice queen surgeon to her knees. Even mine feel like they could buckle.
“It’s just… intense,” I whisper with a hoarse voice.
“The job?” Catherine quips in the background.
“Of course she doesn’t mean the job, amor. You’re talking about something else, aren’t you?”
Mary’s voice drops almost an octave lower as she asks the question. Her voice turns careful, as if she is almost afraid that loud noises might scare me off. I close my eyes and let out an involuntary squeak.
“So, what’s her name?”
“Elena,” I sigh.
I hear a shift in the background and the sounds of heels on the floor. Catherine’s voice is suddenly a lot closer when she speaks again.
“How did you two meet? I mean, you’re so busy all the time you barely have time to even call.”
There is no judgment in her voice, it’s just a simple statement of fact.
Still, my throat clamps up at the words.
Say something, dummy. My mind races, but I sit frozen on the phone.
What could I possibly tell them? If word gets out that I have feelings for my interviewee, I will be in serious trouble.
Not to mention the repercussions it could have for Elena.
I couldn’t live with myself if she’d lose her job over this.
Over me. Even if I am not sure that is an actual possibility, I do know that the Chief can make her life a living hell. She doesn’t deserve that.
Both Mary and Catherine gasp at the same time, and I can practically hear them exchange glances. I am trying to force the words to come out, but they remain stuck in my throat, causing me to make a weird, strangled noise.
“Maya, querida, you know you can talk to us, sí?” Catherine’s voice is honey-soft now, but the implication in her words is clear.
“Mm-hmm,” I push out with great effort.
“So, is this Elena…” Catherine drags out her words so slowly and carefully, that it lacks all the determination and poise she holds when she wields her scalpel. “… a firefighter perhaps?”
The tears spill from my eyes and fall hot on my cheeks. They slide down my skin, creating salty pathways for the next set of tears that follows almost immediately.
“Mm-hmm,” I push out again, this time fighting the sob that wants to follow.
“Oh, nina,” the surgeon whispers, her voice soft and gentle.
Suddenly I can no longer compose myself.
The sound that falls from my lips is almost feral, and I can hear the sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line.
I press my shaky fingers against my lips, the lips that Elena kissed only two days ago, but there is no stopping me now.
As I break down, Mary and Catherine whisper calming words into my ear.
Not once during the ten minutes it takes me to catch my breath again do they probe me with questions or tell me to just suck it up.
They remain soft and gentle, exactly what I need right now.
***
After two hours, a date for a barbecue on the calendar, and the promise to call them whenever I need a listening ear, I say goodbye to Catherine and Mary.
As soon as I put the phone down, I march to the kitchen to fill a glass of water.
My head is pounding and my throat is sore, but my heart feels a little lighter at least.
They didn’t give me advice on what to do—they respect me too much for that and it is for me to figure out—but no matter how I spin it, the options are horrible.
If I tell Helen I kissed my source, she will immediately take the story away from me.
Not only will my ethics be questioned, but Woman at the Front will also lose credibility if they let me continue with the article.
I need this closing piece to regain my position with the magazine, so telling her… well, it really isn’t an option.
But then again, if I talk to Elena and she feels the same way, then it might be worth pursuing whatever this is.
God, whenever my mind drifts off at the thought of us watching a movie in each other’s arms, Elena coming home to a warm dinner I made her, or having her in my bed, I go weak in the knees.
But that’s not what she wants, Maya. No, Elena said she is ‘too busy’ to date.
So, even if I would give up my job to have all that, that idea is off the table.
That leaves me with two options, really.
Two highly questionable options that go against everything I am.
I either take three steps back and tackle this as a professional, keeping Elena at a distance, or I see where it will lead us and lie about it to everyone else.
But if it ever comes out, it will not only ruin my career but Elena’s as well.
Fuck me. Well done, Maya Carter. Well fucking done.