Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Bobby
The firehouse smelled like burnt coffee and bacon grease, a combination that should’ve been disgusting but was just part of the routine. The morning shift was always the same—guys gathered around the long wooden table, plates piled high, the TV humming in the background with the morning news.
I sat at the edge of the table, barely touching my food, my body still tense from the night before. Sleep had been a joke, and no amount of coffee was shaking the exhaustion from my bones. I could still see the flames, hear the crackling of the burning building. But mostly, I could still hear her.
Gabbi.
The way she had argued with me, the way she had stood her ground, completely ignoring the fact that she almost died in that fire. Every muscle in my body clenched at the memory. I should have been over this by now. Over her.
Mike nudged my arm, dragging me out of my thoughts. "You good?"
"Fine," I muttered, shoving a bite of eggs into my mouth just to give myself something to do.
"Could’ve fooled me." He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "You’ve been brooding since you walked in here. Something on your mind?"
I didn’t answer. He already knew.
The TV in the background shifted from weather updates to the local news segment. I barely noticed until I heard a familiar name.
"...Gabbi Mason, the reporter who risked her life to save a child from last night’s apartment fire…"
My stomach tightened. My grip on my fork did, too.
The screen showed her. Standing in front of the burnt-out building, hair pulled back, a smudge of soot still on her cheek, eyes sharp with that determined look I knew all too well.
I swallowed hard, willing myself to ignore it. But the rest of the guys? They sure as hell weren’t about to.
Carter let out a low whistle. "Damn, Norman. Your ex is making headlines."
I didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.
Mike smirked. "Fearless journalist, huh? That what we’re calling reckless these days?"
"Better than half of us," Carter added. "You see how she ran in there without hesitation? Got more guts than?—"
I set my fork down with a little too much force.
The room went quiet for half a second before someone coughed.
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face. "She was stupid. That’s what she was."
"Stupid or not, the news loves her," Mike said, nodding toward the screen. "She’s a hero now."
I didn’t want to look, but my eyes betrayed me.
The clip played footage of Gabbi being interviewed. Her voice was steady, but there was something raw beneath it, something real.
"I didn’t think," she admitted. "I just saw a mother begging for her child’s life, and I knew I had to do something. I would’ve never forgiven myself if I had just stood there."
Her words punched through me.
I forced myself to look away, grabbing my coffee and taking a long sip, hoping it would drown out the sound of her voice in my head.
But it didn’t.
Because she wasn’t lying. She meant every word.
I hated that I knew that about her. Hated that, despite everything, I still understood her.
Before anyone could say another word, the side door to the firehouse opened. A woman stepped inside hesitantly, looking around until she spotted me.
Mrs. Delacruz.
I stood, my posture straightening as she walked toward me. She looked tired, her eyes still puffy from crying, but her face was warm, relieved.
"Mr. Norman," she said softly. "I just wanted to come and thank you in person."
"You don’t have to do that, ma’am," I said, shaking my head.
She smiled. "Yes, I do. You saved my son. And so did Miss Mason."
The mention of Gabbi’s name made my jaw clench.
Mrs. Delacruz took a small breath, as if steadying herself. "I wanted to invite you both over for dinner. Nothing fancy, just a home-cooked meal. My family and I… we owe you everything. Please, let us do this."
I hesitated.
The last thing I wanted was to sit across from Gabbi at a dinner table, pretending like we hadn’t just nearly killed each other in an argument. But looking at Mrs. Delacruz, seeing the pure gratitude on her face, I knew I couldn’t say no.
So I nodded. "Alright."
Her face lit up. "Thank you. I’ll let Gabbi know, too."
Of course, she would.
She left soon after, and I was left standing there, already regretting every decision I had made today.
The guys wasted no time.
"You’re having dinner with your ex?" Carter grinned. "Romantic."
"Shut up," I muttered.
Mike chuckled. "Hope you got a nice shirt, man. Sounds like a big night."
I ignored them, grabbed my coffee, and walked out to the garage, needing air.
The last thing I wanted was to see Gabbi again.
But somehow, I always ended up right back in her orbit.