Chapter Four
Tom
Stepping into the firehouse, I’m hit with the rich aroma of dark roast coffee mingling with the sweet scent of glazed donuts. The clattering sounds of equipment echo through the bay where the cherry-red engine gleams under fluorescent lights. It’s another day doing what I love.
“Good morning,” I call out, weaving my way through the station to the kitchen.
“Rivera finally graces us with his presence.” Daniel Mackey leans against the worn laminate counter.
“Can’t bear to be away from me, can you?” I shoot back, nudging him aside to pour myself a cup of coffee into my BACFD mug.
“We thought you might have run off into the sunset with the redhead,” Chase Russell, the rookie, says as he bites into his donut, powdered sugar dusting his shirt.
I raise my brow, peering over the rim of my mug. “Really, Rookie?”
“I call it like I see it,” he mumbles through a mouthful of donut.
“I didn’t realize you had such an active imagination. Focusing on your job might be more beneficial, considering you’re still learning the ropes.”
The guys all burst into laughter, and Russell pretends to sulk, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward.
Jake strides in, snagging a donut. He catches my eye with a knowing smirk.
He already knows I like Caroline. I freely offered up the information many times since we met at the Summer Festival.
But he doesn’t know about yesterday, running errands with her for hours.
Throughout the day, she slowly let her guard down around me, though I’m not sure why it’s up in the first place.
We’re friends—a little more than friends, I’d say.
Not dating but dancing around the edges of something.
Just as I’m about to leave the kitchen, Captain Martinez enters. “Morning, men. Let’s get moving. Debrief from the B crew.”
I’m grateful for the distraction, although I’m sure it’s not the end of the conversation for them. I gulp down the rest of my cup and follow my team out to the bay. They give us the rundown of their shift—a few disturbances, an overall calm day, which is a relief to hear.
The debrief wraps up, and we start our shift: equipment checks, running drills, and cleaning the firehouse.
Tasks that aren’t always fun, but they come with the territory, and we finish them all together.
These men are like brothers to me. They know how to get under my skin, but when we’re out there, we watch each other’s backs.
Just as we’re wrapping up the last of the chores, the alarm rings through the station. The captain’s voice booms. “Smoke Investigation. Driftwood Diner.”
The atmosphere shifts from lighthearted to serious in a split second. We scramble into action, our muscles moving on memory alone, pulling on our gear and jumping into the truck.
The engine’s siren screams as we race down the streets. We round the corner, and I spot the faded blue and white sign. Driftwood Diner has been around since I was a kid. It’s practically a landmark here in Blue Alder Cove, a staple for every resident and visitor.
I spot Edna pacing on the sidewalk, her hands twisting her apron into knots. I leap from the truck, boots hitting the pavement with a thud, and head towards her.
I tuck my helmet under one arm while I keep my voice steady and calm. “Edna, what happened?”
“Oh, Tom! It’s that old oven acting up again. Been with me twenty years, but there was more smoke than usual.” She shakes her silver-crowned head.
“Alright, we’ll take a look.” The words come out practiced, reassuring.
Behind me, the guys have unloaded the equipment. The captain has spoken with one of the first responders who called it in.
“Rivera, no smoke showing on the outside. Take the interior.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod sharply and pivot to face my waiting crew.
“Mackey, thermal camera. Hollis, extinguisher, just in case. Rookie, watch the door and keep it clear.”
Russell nods as we three veterans put on our masks and helmets before pushing through the diner’s glass door.
The warm air collides with the icy breeze outside, creating a foggy curtain.
We navigate our way past the tables into the kitchen, where the gray haze hangs.
It’s not thick enough to blind us, but enough to sting the back of my throat.
Mackey sweeps the thermal camera across the kitchen and lands on the oven. “Heat source is definitely the oven. But temperatures read normal. No hotspots beyond cooking range.”
I approach the oven, feeling a wave of heat as I get closer. I take a deep breath before cracking it open. A cloud of gray smoke billows out, but not flames. I quickly shut it with a metallic clang, preventing any more smoke from escaping.
“Let’s ventilate this place,” I announce, voice muffled behind my mask.
Hollis throws open the delivery door, letting in a rush of crisp winter air.
Mackey positions a ventilation fan, pushing the smoke outside.
Once it’s dispersed, we can get a better idea of what sparked this whole ordeal.
It’s an old model, so it could be a burnt-out heating element or just needs a good ol’ scrub after many years of serving our town.
“Easy as pie?” Russell asks as we emerge through the front door.
I shake my head, pulling off my helmet. “Pie might have been the problem in the first place.”
Hollis grunts next to me, but Mackey laughs loudly behind me.
I head straight for Captain to give him the update. We’ve done everything we can to make sure everyone’s safe, and there’s no threat.
I turn to find Edna when my eyes catch a flash of copper hair in the small crowd.
A green scarf highlights her pale neck. One hand cradles Aurora’s tiny body, while the other holds a to-go cup with the Driftwood Diner logo, probably filled with a Caramel Macchiato.
My favorite redhead. Her emerald eyes, wide with concern, lock onto mine.
The worry lines between her brow instantly smooth out, and she lifts the cup to her red lips, taking a slow sip.
I caught her caring. It may just be about the town, but for right now, I’ll pretend that concern was all about me. I flash her my best smile, a dashing one, of course. I can’t help it.
“Is everything alright, Tom?” Edna’s voice breaks our connection. “Tell me I can still keep the diner open today.”
“Everything is fine, Edna,” I assure her, placing my hand on her trembling shoulder. “You need to get it looked at by a professional. You can stay open, but don’t use the oven until someone checks it out.”
“Oh, thank you, boys. I can always count on you. You’re always there when I need you.” Edna wraps her arms around me, squeezing with surprising strength for a woman in her seventies. I return the hug, glancing over her silver curls at Caroline.
She’s hiding behind her coffee cup and emerald scarf, but I can see the smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.
I gently free myself from Edna’s viselike grip. “Anytime, Edna.”
As I turn to head back to the truck, a peach-colored blur darts past my boots.
“Rory!” Caroline calls out, but if the little dog hears her, she certainly doesn’t show it.
Chuckling, I bend down and scoop the fluffy bundle into my arms, holding her to my face. “Hello again, Rory.”
She gives a happy yap and licks my cheek. I turn back toward the crowd and catch sight of Caroline hurrying over, a mix of annoyance and apology coloring her freckled face.
“Sorry, Tom. She jumped right out of my arms.”
“No problem, Caroline,” I assure her. “She’s just excited to see her favorite firefighter again.”
Caroline sighs, rolls her eyes, and glares at me. I’m absolutely still tallying up her eye rolls. That’s another point for me—and I’m keeping score like it’s the most important game I’ve ever played.