3. Nina
Chapter Three
NINA
My alarm goes off at 6:30, but I've been awake since five, staring at the ceiling of my new apartment.
This place is still a maze of boxes. I pad to the kitchen in my oversized t-shirt, cold floorboards creaking under my bare feet. Through the window, the mountains loom against the fresh sky, massive and ancient. It’s completely different from the city skyline I'm used to.
A fresh start. That's what I needed. What I still need.
I shower quickly, blow-dry my hair, and then stare at my closet. What exactly do you wear for your first day at a mountain search and rescue outfit? Especially when your introduction involved being rescued while wearing extremely unsuitable clothing?
I opt for dark jeans, a blue button-down, and my most sensible boots. Professional but practical. I apply minimal makeup; waterproof mascara, tinted lip balm, and a touch of concealer to hide the shadows under my eyes from a restless night.
In the kitchen, I reach for my travel mug before remembering it's still packed somewhere. My gaze lands on the pink glittery monstrosity Tiffany gave me at the bachelorette party. ‘ THIS MIGHT BE WINE’ is emblazoned on the front in bold, sparkly letters. Perfect. Nothing says serious professional like suggesting you're day-drinking.
But it's the only travel cup I have unpacked, so it'll have to do. Besides, a little humor never hurt anyone.
I head out into the crisp morning air. The town is waking up, lights coming on in windows, a few early risers walking dogs or opening shops.
The bell over the door jingles as I step into the Heart’s Delight, a cozy little diner perched right at the edge of Main Street. The warmth inside hits me like a hug after the mountain chill, along with the comforting scent of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and espresso. It's got the whole small-town charm thing down: checkered curtains, mismatched mugs, and a chalkboard menu covered in twinkle lights.
Frankie’s behind the counter pouring coffee, and she looks like she could be on the cover of one of those hip food magazines; messy blonde bun, vintage band tee, tattoos, and a quick smile. I’ve only met her once, when I first arrived, but she remembers my name.
“Morning, Nina,” she calls, like we’re already friends. “You want your coffee strong enough to wake the dead or just mildly life-affirming?”
“Hit me with the resurrection blend,” I say, grinning.
Frankie laughs. “To go?”
I hand her the pink glittery travel cup. “Please. First day nerves.”
“Good luck, hon. And you’ll do great.”
“Thanks. I love how cozy this place is.”
“I did most of the painting myself. Moved back here a couple years ago after burning out in the city. I used to work in one of those bougie brunch spots with edible flowers and $18 toast. Didn’t hate it, but I missed this place. My grandma started the Heart’s Delight back in the sixties, and when she passed, I figured it was time to carry it on. Gave it a bit of a facelift, but the heart of this place is still hers.”
At one of the corner booths, I catch a glimpse of a guy I recognize from the helicopter. He has Axel’s sharp jawline, but with messier dark hair and green eyes, but the same uniform shirt stretched across broad shoulders. The pilot. Ryder, I think he’s called.
He looks up, nods at me, then makes eye contact with Frankie, and fumbles his spoon. It clatters to the floor, and his ears turn the exact shade of the strawberry jam in the little condiment rack. They both stare at each other, then he picks it up and she looks away. Interesting.
Frankie gives me the cup. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. A rush of cooler air comes in as the door is pushed open by a group of hikers.
“See you tomorrow?” Frankie asks as I head for the door.
“Counting on it,” I raise my cup in salute.
There’s a hint of smoke in the air as I walk the few blocks to the SAR office. The building is brick and timber, like everything else in Ember Heart, with the mountains standing sentinel behind it. A gold plaque by the door reads Ember Heart Search equipment room, medical bay, locker rooms, dispatch center. The base is impressively well-organized, top-tier equipment neatly stored and labeled.
“Dispatch is your domain,” Troy explains, showing me the high-tech communications setup. “State of the art. Marcus, brother number five, upgraded everything last year. He's our tech wizard.”
“How many of you are there?” I ask, trying to keep track.
“Seven total. Logan's oldest, then Ryder, me, Axel, Marcus, Hunter, and Zander's the baby, although he'd hate me calling him that. He's over in Snowflake Falls with the fire department.”
“And this is a family business?”
Troy shrugs. “More or less. Dad was SAR director before Logan. Mom's a retired nurse who still helps out sometimes. We all just... fit here, I guess. Mom even takes a couple of dispatch shifts occasionally. You’ll be in Dispatch One. Through there.” He points down the hall. “Logan’s out on a call, but Axel should be in his office.”
My heart stutters. “Axel? Has an office here ?”
“Yeah. My brother. Axel Blake. Ops manager. He also does SAR shifts, he’s our backup helicopter pilot and muscle.” Troy squints. “Oh, you met him already, right?”
“Yes. News travels fast.”
Troy smiles. “You’ll have to get used to that. The family group chat is wild . Great that you’ve already met him. Go say hi.”
Oh, I met him, all right. Up close and personal. My spine is suddenly too straight, my breathing shallow. I steel myself and walk down the hall.
The door to the corner office is open. Axel is inside, leaning over a desk strewn with maps, his dark hair a little ruffled like he just ran a hand through it. He looks up, then freezes. For a long second, we just stare at each other. His eyes are the exact gray-blue of yesterday’s sky, the one just before the sun vanished behind the ridge.
“You.”
“Me,” I say, lifting my chin.
“You’re really the new dispatcher? I couldn’t believe it after what happened on the weekend.”
I keep my voice even. “I am. I start today.”
His jaw tightens, like this is the worst news he’s had all year.
“Well, you’ll be working under me.” He stands to his full height, towering over me.
Under you? Nope. Not touching that one.
“Great,” I say instead, setting my coffee cup down on the nearest surface. “Looking forward to it.”
He stares at my cup with a disappointed expression. “I run point on logistics, field ops, and training rotations. You’ll handle incoming calls, coordination, and team tracking.”
“I know the job. I’ve been dispatching for six years.”
“ Big difference between city dispatch and mountain SAR.”
I take a step forward. “And yet, I still managed not to freeze to death yesterday. So maybe give me a little credit.”
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Amusement? Anger? He crushes it with a blink.
“Logan signed off on your hire. It’s his call.”
“Nice to know you’re a team player.”
That gets me a tight smile. “We’ll see.”
The radio crackles on the wall behind him. A panicked voice filters through, rough and distorted. “This is Brad Barnes. I saw smoke, maybe a flare, near Crooked Ridge Pass. Could be a stranded hiker. I’m not sure.”
Axel turns toward the comms station. “Troy, did you get that?”
“Got it. You want me in the chopper?” Troy calls from down the hall.
“Yep. I’ll take it.” Axel looks at me. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Challenge accepted.
I slide into the comms chair and pull up the digital map on the screen. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I triangulate the location based on the report and recent trail activity.
“Possible solo hiker. Trail cam caught him at 6:15 this morning headed west.” I mark the coordinates. “You’ll need to fly in low. Wind shear’s going to be rough.”
Axel watches me work, arms folded, brow furrowed.
“I’ll prep the chopper,” he mutters, like he’s not ready to admit anything yet.
But then, just before he leaves, he pauses by the door. “Good work.”
I glance up. “Thanks, boss.”
His gaze lingers on my mouth for a beat too long, then he’s gone, boots thudding down the hallway.
Tension crackles in the air like static.
Oh, he’s sure not going to make this easy.
Good.
Neither am I.