First Response to Love (Forever Yours #1)

Chapter 1

Vulcan

I’m hot and sweaty in all this gear, despite the fact that the “fire” is only burning fake wood.

I’m right in the middle of the chaos of the training drill, my heart pounding with the intensity of it all.

I search the smoky room for the pretend victims who need saving.

I know this is practice, but we always have to work as if it’s real.

“Jackson, keep that area secure! Stop it from spreading,” I say firmly. I turn to watch my team fall into step like a well-oiled machine.

Ramirez holds on to the hose, eyes locked on her target as she feigns putting out a fire.

“Keep it steady.” I give a nod as she adjusts her stance.

I didn’t think Ramirez was going to cut it the first time I saw her.

She was too dolled up on her first day—full face of makeup and long nails too, but it’s been five years, and she is still one of the best damn firefighters in my fire station.

I scan the room, my sights landing on another firefighter. “Nice work, Thompson!”

Then there’s Chen, climbing up the ladder with ease despite all his gear. As our tech expert, he’s accustomed to heights and challenging situations. His hands move fast over the controls. Even though my station is short-staffed, they are fucking great at what they do.

“Listen up!” I say, and everyone stops what they’re doing and turns to me.

“You’re all doing great, but remember, it’s not just speed; it’s doing it right.

Lives are on the line. We train hard so we can handle anything.

Stay sharp, stay safe, and let’s make this city proud!

” It’s a saying my father instilled in me, so it’s only right that I share it with my team.

A chorus of agreement follows.

Twenty minutes later, the exercise ends, the pretend flames are gone, and alarms are quiet. Each successful drill is a promise that we’ll be ready when real danger hits. Their sweaty faces turn to me, waiting for instructions.

“Great job, everyone. Debrief in twenty,” I announce as they disperse, but I catch their appreciative glances.

Station 112 thrives off constructive feedback as much as they do positive reinforcement.

Another reason why I believe ours is the best station in the city. Even though it needs a little TLC.

Our red bricks aren’t as shiny as they used to be, the paint is peeling, and every day I do an assessment of what needs fixing, making mental notes of what we can handle ourselves and what needs professional help.

Besides the bricks, the ceilings are starting to get water damage from the leaky roof, the lockers are from the ’80s, and the kitchen has appliances older than most of the rookies.

But what this place lacks in modern aesthetics, it makes up for in heart.

I head to my office, pushing open the door with my shoulder.

The hinges squeak—another thing to add to my repair list. My desk is cluttered with paperwork, budget reports that never seem to have enough zeros to fix everything we need, and a framed photo of my father in his chief’s uniform from twenty years ago.

His stern face stares back at me, a constant reminder of the legacy I’m trying to uphold.

A knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts. “Cap, you in there?”

I recognize Harry’s voice. He’s always been perceptive and able to read me like an open book. A blessing and curse, if you ask me. The fucker struggles to take the temperature of a room at times.

“Yeah, come in,” I say.

Harry enters, his blue eyes scanning my office. Probably looking for the jar of peppermints. I haven’t had time to refill them. “Quite the drill today, huh? You really put us through the wringer.” He eyes me like he has more to say before settling on, “Anything you wanna talk about?”

He’s always sniffing for information. If becoming a firefighter hadn’t worked out for him, he would have done great as a journalist. “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes, Harry. Can’t have you getting complacent on me.” I’m deliberately ignoring his question and he knows it.

“Me? Complacent? Never.” He grins. “But seriously… you doing okay, Vulcan? You seem a little… off.”

I wave away his concern. “Just tired. Nothing a strong cup of coffee can’t fix.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “If you say so. But you know I’m here if you need to talk, right? We’re more than just coworkers. We’re brothers from another mother.”

“I know, man. And I appreciate it. I just have a lot on my mind. We’re understaffed and I need to hire some new recruits and this place is—never mind. I’m rambling.” I scrape a hand along my jaw. “I got this handled.”

In all honesty, lately, it’s a little more than work stress. This station is my life, and I’m content for the most part, but when I get home, I want more. I need more. The problem is time, and that’s running in short supply.

He nods. “I’ve heard that the new candidates are more promising than last year’s. Don’t stress yourself over something out of your control, Vul.”

He’s right; I can’t control what the new candidates are like, but I can manage the ones under my watch. And that means shaping them into the best damn firefighters in NYC.

My drive home is plagued with the memory of Harry’s words earlier.

It’s becoming harder to ignore the gnawing gaps in my social life.

As I pull up to my building and take the elevator to my empty penthouse, I think about how my life compares to that of my younger coworkers.

Most of the crew have partners waiting up for them after a tough day on the job; if anything, I’m the outlier.

Perpetually single and constantly subjected to blind-date fixups.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m devoted to my career, and I know it’s a calling that demands sacrifice.

But sometimes I wonder if there’s more out there for me.

More connection, more meaning. Maybe even love.

Not that I have time for romance in my position.

I’m the captain—lives depend on my single-minded focus.

A relationship could be a reckless distraction.

Still, as I fall onto my cold, rumpled sheets alone, again, I can’t deny the longing that wells up within me.

The part of me that craves the tender understanding of a partner, of someone who sees beyond the badge to the flesh-and-blood man beneath.

Someone whose soft sigh in the darkness tells me I’m not alone.

But even as I try to resign myself to solitude, a wry voice in my head pipes up. Keep telling yourself that, Vulcan. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.

My phone rings out in time to save me from my spiral, and I lean over to grab it from the nightstand, squinting at the too-bright screen.

It’s Harry. Fucking hell, I can never get a moment of peace.

He’s like the annoying little brother I’m happy I never had growing up.

My baby sister, Valkyrie, is enough. Though with how busy she’s been with her own career, we don’t see each other as much—which explains how Harry has taken her place, come to think of it.

“I think I know why you seem a bit off. When was the last time you got laid?” he asks by way of greeting, and I roll my eyes.

“Jesus,” I grumble into the phone, my free hand massaging the bridge of my nose. “You know damn well my sex life is none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Vulcan. I’m just looking out for you. All work and no horizontal cardio makes Vulcan a dull boy. You’re one scowl away from turning into that statue at the station entrance. I’m trying to keep you young here.”

I sink back against the headboard. “Thanks for the concern, Dr. Phil, but I’m perfectly fine.”

“Sure you are. That’s why you were moping around the station after the briefing, is it?”

“I’m not moping,” I protest, but even I can hear the lack of conviction in my voice. “Everyone has off days.”

“Right. And I’m Keanu Reeves.” Harry’s eye roll is practically audible through the phone. “Listen, all I’m saying is maybe it’s time to dust off the dating skills. I know people. Non-terrible people who might tolerate your charming personality. Just to get your equipment serviced, if nothing else.”

I snort. “Because between fourteen-hour shifts and budget reports, I’ve got so much time to wine and dine strangers.”

“Hey, you never know. Maybe your dream girl will walk out of a burning building and sweep you off your feet.”

“You’ve been watching too many Hallmark movies, my friend. And if she did walk out a burning building unscathed, I would be more concerned if she was human rather than my dream woman.” I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“Nah, I just have a sixth sense for these things. Mark my words, Vulcan. Your luck’s about to change. I can feel it in my bones. Your love drought is about to get a flash flood warning. Your future Mrs. or Ms. Right-For-Now is closer than you think.”

“Sometimes I think you missed your calling as a fortune teller,” I shoot back, trying to keep it light. “I’m touched you’re so emotionally invested in my love life. But you don’t need to be worried about it.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Someone has to be. You act like abstinence is a badge of honor. I’m just saying you might want to take a break from celibacy before it qualifies as a lifestyle.”

This fucker is relentless.

I give Harry a hard time about his gossiping, but it’s a goddamn relief to let him in on the parts of my life I can’t always say out loud. He’s the only one at the station who knows me well enough to call me out. He’s also the only one who’d get away with it.

“I think you should focus on your own love life. Riley’s is running out of women you haven’t slept with,” I tease. The last time we got beers there, he was propositioned twice before finally leaving with one of the bartenders.

“I resent that. I’ve slept with maybe… forty percent of the women there. Tops.”

“That’s still disturbing,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re like a sexual pandemic.”

“I prefer the term romantic enthusiast. But seriously, think about it. The next woman who looks your way, throw caution to the wind and talk to her. See where it goes.”

“Whatever you say, Casanova. Now, get some sleep. We’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” He chuckles. “Night, Vul.”

“Night, Harry.” I hang up, tossing the phone back on the nightstand.

As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point.

Maybe I need to start putting myself out there.

It’s been a long time since I was in a relationship.

Not that I’m jumping ahead to thoughts of anything serious—that’s just wishful thinking.

Few people understand the demands of my job or the ghosts that haunt me from losses I couldn’t prevent.

Yeah, nope. Maybe it’s better not to hope for the impossible. Far easier to keep things simple.