Chapter 5
I pride myself on being levelheaded on the job. When you’re the one running into fires rather than away from them, you kind of have to be.
But the second I spot Shayna cowering on the hardwood floor in the back room, fear grips my chest. The kind of fear that feels suffocating and makes you lose all common sense.
I knew she worked at a flower shop, but I didn’t know she worked at this one.
It feels like I’m having an out-of-body experience as my feet carry me toward Shayna. I lift her into my arms and look into her eyes, hoping that she can see what I’m unable to say with the fear overwhelming me.
Everything’s okay now.
You’re safe.
I’ve got you.
I jog through the building, and we pass two members of my crew who are actively putting out the fire in the main room. The scent of burning flowers mixed with smoke is like charred perfume.
Shayna whimpers in my arms as she takes in the scene around us, and I feel for her.
I’m sure this place is like a second home after all the years she’s worked here.
I think Mallory even mentioned that Shayna was supposed to be taking the shop over soon.
Watching her future go up in smoke can’t be easy.
I cradle her closer, telling myself it’s just to protect her as much as possible from the smoke. But when Shayna burrows her face into my chest, it feels like more than that. A thought I immediately shove down. This is Mallory’s friend I’m thinking about.
When we finally make it out the front door, I take Shayna over to the ambulance, setting her gently on the stretcher. The EMTs place an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose and begin evaluating her body for burns.
I take off my mask and helmet and lean into my training, focusing on the patient I just saved rather than worrying about the fact that I know who is currently on the stretcher.
“I have a twenty-four-year-old female suffering from smoke inhalation. She’s alert and oriented.
” I think back to what happened on the plane. “But she has asthma.”
I look to Shayna as she pulls her oxygen mask down. I bend down to pull it back up, but she places her free hand on mine to stop me.
“Thank you,” she rasps. “For saving my life.”
“Just doing my job.” I place the oxygen mask back over her nose and mouth. “I know it’s hard for you, but try not to talk. And keep this on, okay?”
Shayna shoots me a glare, but I can see a small playful smile on her lips under the mask.
“Porter. Give me a status update,” Captain Dalton says over the radio.
I turn away from Shayna and press the button on the side of my radio. “I’ve evacuated the civilian from the building, sir.”
“Copy that,” he booms back. “Barnes. Fisher. Status on the fire?”
“We have it eighty percent contained, Captain,” Barnes’s soft but sure voice comes through. I’m only on my first week at the station, and she’s already become someone I respect immensely—not just because of her position as a lieutenant, but because of the way she leads with confidence and kindness.
“Is the building…” Shayna pauses to cough. I turn around, ready to chastise her for not keeping the oxygen mask on. “…going to make it?”
I shoot her a look, and she places it back on her face. “They have most of the fire contained, but it’ll be up to a building inspector to see if the structure is safe.”
Her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, making her cough again.
I close the distance between us and place a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and there will be time to get answers later.
For now, I need you to focus on breathing into this mask.
” I tap it gently with my pointer finger. “Just breathe, Shay.”
An EMT walks up. “Your numbers aren’t quite where we’d like for them to be, likely because of your asthma. We’re going to take you to the hospital for further evaluation.”
Shayna shoots her a thumbs-up. My heart begins pounding in my chest, an unfamiliar rhythm. I examine her. Watching each breath she takes fog the mask slowly settles my own fear. She’s breathing. Even if her oxygen stats aren’t great, she’s breathing.
“Porter, I want you to back up Barnes and Fisher.”
“Copy, Captain,” I say, shooting one last glance back at Shayna.
She waves as they load her into the ambulance.
I lift my gloved hand before putting my helmet and mask back on and jogging toward the building.
I grab a spare hose and run into the flower shop.
After quickly making my way back to my crew, I join them in spraying water onto the fire.
Once we have the fire fully contained, I survey the damage. I don’t need a building inspector to know that this is bad news for Shayna. Because, from the looks of things, this building won’t be ready to reopen anytime soon.
“You missed a spot, probie.” Gordon snickers as he drops crumbs from his crumbly granola bar onto the cement floor I just finished sweeping.
It took me a total of about five minutes to realize he’s the self-declared leader—and also the sole member—of the hazing committee, even though he’s also an unranked firefighter like me.
The rest of the crew rolls their eyes, but I don’t make a sound as I sweep up the mess he made before hanging the broom back in its spot.
I’d never want to be friends with someone who enjoys eating that poor, crumbly excuse for a granola bar, anyway.
“Knock it off, Gordon.” Fisher offers me a sympathetic smile as he walks past.
I understand I’m new to this station, but I already have nine years of firefighting experience under my belt. So, while I’m technically the rookie at this station, I appreciate that everyone isn’t bent on hazing the “new” guy.
“We’ve all been through the hazing. It’s just a little team bonding.” Gordon appears behind me, clapping me on the shoulder. “Right, probie?”
“Mm,” I mumble.
I don’t agree with what Gordon’s been doing all week.
I’ve never actively participated in hazing a probie, but I also know how much keeping the peace with your crew matters.
Because when I’m at work, they’re my family—sometimes a dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless.
You have to rely on your brothers and sisters to have your back.
If I have to put up with a little bit of hazing, so be it.
“Porter,” Captain calls from outside his office on the second floor, overlooking the vehicle bay. “I want you to go to the hospital and do a wellness check on the civilian you pulled out of the fire.”
My stomach drops like I’m rappelling off the side of the cliff with no traction.
I get a handle on whatever emotion is making me feel like I’m in freefall enough to respond.
“Copy that, Cap.” I turn to Fisher, adjusting the collar of my short-sleeved navy duty shirt.
“Are wellness checks a thing you do often?”
Fisher nods. “When things are slower at the station. It’s good for community morale.”
“Right,” I grunt. “I’ll see y’all later, then.
” I rub the back of my neck. After grabbing my wallet and car keys from my locker, I head to my truck and take the long way to the hospital.
I park in the visitor lot and make my way into the emergency room.
The woman working the help desk’s smile grows flirtatious when she sees the Louisville Fire Department logo on my shirt.
“I’m looking for Shayna Monroe’s room. She was brought in after a fire.” I slide my hands into my pockets and rock on my heels.
“Happy to help a public servant like you.”
It takes all my willpower to not cringe at her seductive tone.
Rather than telling me where to go, she gets up and escorts me to Shayna’s room, touching my arm way too much for my liking along the way.
I don’t think this kind of private tour is usually her job, and I can think of at least five HIPAA violations for leaving her desk with the computer still open.
But I ignore them all as my stomach swirls with worry.
Both for Shayna’s well-being and the thought of potentially seeing her family and being asked a bunch of questions.
“Here you are.” The woman wraps her hand around my forearm. “If you need anything—and I do mean anything—please stop by my desk on your way out.”
I’ll take things I will not be doing for $1000, Alex. Maybe a little Jeopardy humor will make her words feel less…gross.
“Thanks.” I extricate my arm from her grasp and clumsily back into the door, making her giggle.
I turn around faster than I’ve ever moved in my life and knock on the door.
The second I hear someone say “come in,” I practically jump into the room, closing the door behind me to create a barricade in case that woman thought my thanking her was an invitation.
When I look back, I find seven pairs of eyes fixed on me. “This is a fire violation.”
“Good thing I have a firefighter for a brother who can protect us.” Mallory comes over, pulling me into a hug. “Thank you for saving Shay,” she whispers in my ear.
Mr. and Mrs. Monroe and Shayna’s little sister, Reagan, join us, wrapping their arms around me in a group hug. My shoulders stiffen, but I accept it because I know this is their way of showing gratitude.
“We can never repay you for saving our girl.” Tears brim in Mr. Monroe’s eyes. His wife nods along, tears falling steadily down her cheeks.
Before I know it, Kelsey and Alyssa have joined in on the hug fest. I’ve become a human tissue for snot and tears at this point.
I don’t like hugs. I don’t even really like being touched.
I’m a reserved person. I have been ever since I was a child.
It led to me being called every name in the book.
Grumpy. Standoffish. Rude. Prickly. Bearish. Unfriendly. You name it, I’ve heard it.
Shayna is probably the one person who has never seen me as any of those things.
She sees me for who I am—an introverted, reserved, stoic man who is scared of saying the wrong thing, so I just never say anything at all.
At least, that’s what she told me back when we were in high school—before I left her and my family behind to escape to Seattle where I could live my curmudgeon life in solitude.
I thought I would stay there forever and live my life in blissful solitude. But then there was Jillian. And I started to think life would be better lived with someone else by my side…until she left and reminded me exactly why a solitary life is all I’m cut out for.
I run a hand through my hair, refusing to waste another second thinking about her when I have a civilian wellness check to complete.
I look over everyone’s heads at the hospital bed in the center of the room.
Shayna looks better than she did a few hours ago.
She offers me a smile and a weak wave. I’m happy to see that she’s okay, but the way she’s looking at me has me feeling uneasy.
There’s admiration in her eyes. Like I’m some prince charming who saved her from a tower. Though, I suppose I did just save her life. But I was only doing my job.
Mrs. Monroe releases her hold on me, triggering a domino effect as everyone steps back, finally granting me my personal space. “It was nice of you to come check on her,” she says.
“The station sent me.” I don’t miss Shayna’s wince at my words, making me feel like a jerk.
I didn’t realize how rude that would sound until it was already coming out of my mouth.
It seems I always say the wrong thing, one of the reasons I try to say as little as possible. “How’re you doing?” I ask Shayna.
The smile she gives me this time looks forced. “The nebulizer treatment they gave me did the trick.”
“Glad to hear it.” I fold my arms across my chest and look down at my boots. “I should get back to the station. Captain just wanted to make sure you were doing all right.” I move toward the door.
“Connor, what about the shop?” The shakiness in Shayna’s usually optimistic voice stops me in my tracks.
“The initial inspection usually happens within two days. They’ll inform the owner and insurance company of their findings.”
“You’ve seen situations like this before, though, right?” I turn back and watch Shayna anxiously wring her hands in her lap. “Do you have any idea how soon we’ll be able to reopen?”
I run a hand through my beard, the coarse texture grounding me. “I can’t say.” When my gaze meets hers again, I wish I hadn’t looked up. Because seeing the light in her eyes dim is as painful as a second-degree burn. “Sorry. I wish I had more information for you.”
“It’s not your fault.” Her words are high-pitched and squeaky, like she’s choked up and can barely get them out.
I hang my head, feeling like I made this day ten times worse for her than it already was. This is exactly why I’m better off not saying anything at all.