She takes penguins very seriously
Chapter five
Evan
The station never really goes quiet, even in the late afternoon. Even when we’re between calls and the reports are mostly filed, there’s still that hum of readiness under everything.
Radios sit docked and blinking, the trucks are reset and gleaming, and our turnout gear is clipped and ready in our bay lockers.
If the tones drop, we’re moving in seconds.
The bay doors are cracked open just enough to let the last of the daylight stretch in across the concrete. It throws long shadows under the tires of Engine One and turns the dust in the air visible.
I wander back through to the dining room to take a seat at the long table. We had three more callouts after our trip to Flora’s earlier. One was for breathing trouble, another a minor car incident. The third was a suspected gas leak, which turned out to be nothing.
Fletch has the microwave running, leaning his forearm against the counter while something red spins behind the glass.
Ghost sits at the other end of the table, scrolling his phone like he’s half here and half somewhere else.
Colt’s talking quietly with Beck near the whiteboard, low enough that it doesn’t carry.
“All I’m sayin’, Ev, is she offered.”
Fletch doesn’t bother easing into it. He never does. Which is why I don’t bother looking up from the paperwork in front of me. “Thanks for the reminder.”
The microwave beeps, and he pulls his container out and peels back the lid. “And you just said no.”
“She just got here.”
“So?”
“I don’t know her.” I stack the pages in front of me and slide them into the file. “That’s not how this works.”
Ghost glances up from his phone. “She did hold her own against you, though… and she seemed to be looking for work.”
I reach for my coffee, take a sip, then grimace—it’s cold. I set it down.
“Being able to debate which Spice Girl she likes isn’t holding her own,” I say. “And wanting work isn’t a reason to hire someone.”
Fletch shrugs, shoveling pasta into his mouth. “Still.”
Colt looks over from the whiteboard. “She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, though,” he says. “Most people are.”
Beck folds his arms. “I get what you mean, Ev. We see it all the time. Folks know how to perform—smile at the right time, say the right things.” His steady gaze lands on me. “Doesn’t mean it’s real.”
I nod, even though no one in this room needs that reminder. We step into houses where everything looks normal from the driveway, and five minutes later, we’re standing in a kitchen that smells like smoke and fear and loss.
We see people on their worst days, and we see what slips through the cracks. And I know how easy it is to miss when you don’t want to see it.
So it’s not just about getting a job filled. It’s about not gambling with my kid because I’m tired or getting desperate.
I’m not willing to risk Elle on that. Not after everything she’s already been through.
Still. They’re right. Penny didn’t seem to be performing. She didn’t scramble when I shut it down or push harder to prove a point.
In fact, she agreed that it mattered. Acknowledged the importance of looking after a child.
And she’d met my eyes and held them while she said I needed someone reliable and consistent.
But knowing someone’s genuine after one conversation is impossible, and I’m not gambling Elle’s stability on gut feelings or good intentions.
The nickel she pressed back into my palm springs into my mind before I can stop it. The way she told that story about her dad with such fondness, and the way her hair slipped forward over her shoulder when she leaned in to hand it back.
I rub my thumb along the edge of the table and push back from the chair.
“We don’t know anything about her,” I repeat, because it’s the only part that matters. “She could be anyone.”
“She could be exactly what you need,” Ghost murmurs.
“Who could be exactly what who needs?”
Remi’s voice carries from the front entrance before she does. A second later, she appears in the open doorway to the kitchen, tote bag slung over one shoulder, baby Zela balanced on her hip. Max darts past her legs and straight into the rec room like it’s his natural habitat.
“Daddy!” he yells, already mid-run.
Colt doesn’t even look surprised. He just crouches from where he’s leaning against the counter and opens his arms. Max slams into him at full speed.
“You came,” Max says, like it’s news.
“I work here,” Colt replies on a chuckle, scooping him up. His voice drops automatically, softer around the edges. “Reckon I’ll be here tomorrow too.”
Zela reaches for him from Remi’s hip with grabby, determined hands. Remi transfers her without missing a beat, already shifting the tote up her shoulder and scanning the room.
“I brought muffins,” she announces. “Because feeding you all appears to be part of my marriage vows.”
Fletch perks up instantly. “See? You understand the importance of baked goods, Rem. I’ve been saying this all day.”
Remi squints at him. “What are we talking about?”
“New girl in town nearly stole the last cinnamon roll,” he says around a mouthful of pasta. “And then Ev turned down help.”
Her head swivels to me. “What kind of help?”
“Childcare,” Ghost supplies mildly.
Remi gasps theatrically. “Evan met someone and didn’t immediately accept her into his life? I’m shocked.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I say.
“Mm.” She watches Colt pepper Zela’s chubby cheeks with kisses as he holds both his kids.
The baby pats his jaw, then grabs a fistful of his collar. Colt laughs and kisses her knuckles before Remi untangles her.
“So who’s the woman Ghost thinks is exactly what you need? Thought it might’ve finally been a prospective date.”
“Rem,” Colt mutters, but there’s no heat in it.
“What?” She grins. “Sue me, I’m invested.”
“She’s new in town,” Ghost adds, saving me from answering. “Hair’s blue at the ends.”
Remi’s expression shifts. “Oh, her! She saved me from faceplanting with a tray of hot coffees on Main. I gave her directions to the motel. Beautiful, and amazing blue eyes.” She glances at me and pauses. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s new,” I say.
“That’s not a crime.”
“No.”
“She offered to help with Elle?”
I nod.
“She seems lovely.”
“She seems like we don’t know her,” I reply.
Remi studies me for a second longer than I’d prefer, then nods like she’s filing it away for later.
Max wriggles out of Colt’s one-armed grip. “I wanna go see the truck! And the ladder. Ladders are for climbing, but not for me.”
Colt crouches down to wipe something off his cheek with his thumb. “That’s right, bud. You are not cleared for heights, yet.”
Remi hands Colt a wipe before he asks, so he can clean the stickiness off his hands, and then he reaches to take Zela back. They move around each other like this all the time, and I watch them like I always do.
The way Colt leans his head toward Remi when she says something, the way she rests her hand briefly against his back before turning away. Colt doesn’t miss a beat at work or at home, and Remi meets him in the middle every time.
They carry the weight together, and it shows in the way he stands when they’re here—grounded, instead of braced. Like he has everything he needs right in front of him.
Chief Rhodes appears from his office a minute later, no doubt drawn by the noise, and Max spots him instantly.
“Grandpa!” Max yells, sprinting across to him.
“There’s my crew!” Chief scoops him up. “Inside voice, buddy,” he says, but he’s smiling.
His gaze shifts to me over Max’s shoulder. “Heard Miss Mabel’s finished up.”
“Yeah.”
“You lined something up?”
“Working on it.”
He holds my eyes for a second longer. “Don’t carry more than you need to, Prince.”
I swallow on a nod. “I won’t.”
He seems satisfied with that.
The room settles into our pre-shift-change shuffle. Containers get closed, and chairs scrape. Someone rinses a mug in the sink, and the night shift crew starts to file in. Chief will do their handover, and we’ll be free to go.
“Alright.” Beck looks over at the large station clock sitting on the mantle. “Let’s wrap.”
Fletch steals a second muffin while Remi pretends not to see it, and Ghost stands to stretch like he’s been carrying the weight of the world instead of scrolling.
In the locker room, I sit on the bench and unlace my boots, letting the quiet settle properly this time. My turnout gear stays clipped in the bay, but I swap my navy station shirt out for the spare I keep folded in my bag, the worn one shoved in to take home and wash.
Same routine every shift, same rhythm.
Fletch leans in the doorway with his arms folded, watching me.
“You’ll cave.”
“No, I won’t.”
“She had good eye contact,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.
“Get out.”
“Oh, I am.” He grins. “Gonna get out to the train station right now to pick up Frankie.”
“Guess we won’t be hearing from you for four days, then,” mutters Ghost.
“I’m sure you could hear us if you popped over later,” Fletch says and then shrieks with laughter as Ghost aims a shoe at him. “I’ll text you guys about indoor golf!”
And then he’s gone.
I step back into the rec room just long enough to catch Colt bending to press a kiss to Remi’s temple while Max chatters about firetrucks and Zela smears muffin crumbs down the front of his shirt.
“See you in a few days,” I say, grabbing my jacket.
“Text to let us know you’re surviving,” Colt replies automatically.
“You know where I live,” I reply.
“Unfortunately.”
Remi points at me. “If you change your mind about the girl, let me know.”
“Penny.”
“What?”
“Penny,” I repeat, without meaning to. “Her name is Penny.”
“See? You know her name. That’s one tick already for identification.”
I shake my head and grab my keys from the hook by the door. “Not happening.”
She hums like she doesn’t believe me, but I ignore her and head out into the cooling air, the station door swinging shut behind me with a familiar heavy click.
The second I turn the ignition, I’m already shifting gears in my head.
Time to go get my girl.
***