9. Nia
9
NIA
“Mom, I have to go.” My voice is firm, but there’s a slight edge of impatience that I can’t quite hide as I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s ticking down the minutes faster than I’d like, and though I still have ten minutes to spare, the weight of my new job looms over me like a heavy cloud. The truth is, I’m not as concerned about the roll call starting on time as I am about escaping this conversation before it veers into familiar, unwanted territory.
I sigh deeply, a long exhale that barely covers the sound of my mom prattling on about her weekend plans with her bridge club. It’s the same old routine—she’ll segue from her own social calendar into mine, inevitably landing on the topic of how I need to find a nice man, settle down, and give her the grandbabies she’s been hinting at for years. And I’m not in the mood for that today. Not when I’m trying to psych myself up for my first day on the job.
“Fine,” she huffs, but I hear the smile in her voice. “You made it an entire ten minutes this time. Does that mean you’re softening up to the idea of giving me more grandbabies?”
“No.” Cutting her off at the root is the easiest course, especially when babies mean that I have to find someone who can tolerate all my craziness for longer than a night. “It just means I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m starting a new job today. I love you. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye. Go set some broken bones and get people to the hospital. Love you, Virginia.”
I cringe, the familiar discomfort creeping up my spine at her use of my full name. It’s a name that’s always felt too formal, too stiff for someone like me. No matter how many times I’ve tried to get her to use the nickname Ella gave me when we were little, she refuses. To her, I’ll always be Virginia, the name she chose, the one that ties me to a lineage of strong women in our family, bound to our life and heritage.
But to me, it’s just another reminder of the expectations I’ve been trying to escape. The weight of tradition, of the life she envisions for me, presses down hard. Almost as strongly as I resist the idea of settling down and having kids before I’m ready. I want to live my life on my own terms, and right now, that means focusing on my career, not on fulfilling someone else’s dream.
If I wanted kids right now, it would be different. But I don’t even know what I want in life.
I haven’t really lived yet.
I stare at the open bay doors of the Birch Fire Department and smile as I grab my duffel bag from the passenger seat.
“Here’s to new beginnings.” Talking to no one in particular, I get out and run a hand down my uniform t-shirt, which I just picked up that morning.
On the back of the blue shirt is BFD, and the right breast has my title, Paramedic, both in red.
I really did it, and there isn’t any looking back. Through the schooling, the clinical hours, and all the shit that life threw in my path, I’ve managed to achieve what I never thought I would.
I’m walking up to the building, my duffel slung across my shoulder, when a brunette about six inches taller than me walks up to my side.
“Hey.” She sounds out of breath. “I wanted to grab you before you made it inside.”
Unsure of what is happening, I stop and look over to see she is wearing an identical shirt as me.
“I’m Gem.” She holds out her hand, and I take it, smiling. “You must be the new paramedic.”
Nodding, I introduce myself. “Nia.”
“Great.” Gem lets go and starts walking toward the building, and I have to almost double my steps to keep up with her. “My name’s actually Genevieve, but I hate it, so people call me Gem.”
I snort. “We’re gonna get along great. I’m Virginia, but I hate it and prefer people call me Nia.”
Gem chuckles, leading the way through the immaculate firehouse and into the same conference room that I had my interviews in.
Unfortunately, we are one of the last to walk in, and I’m greeted by the smiling faces of almost a dozen men, all of whom stop talking as we make it into the room.
“Hey, Gem,” Fire Chief Hayes says with a smile.
The one to interview me, he is a little bit older than the rest of the men. Okay, not a little bit older. He is at least sixty, if he is anything, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’ll still be able to pull a body from any burning building.
The man in his forties who stands next to him is Captain Harvey, the other man who was present for my interviews and he’d also been one of my instructors in school, too. Not only that, but his daughter is one of my friends.
Gem and I take the only two seats available at the tables as she offers greetings to the various men who are still staring openly at me.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers once we are sitting. “They’re just curious. Laura, the paramedic you’re replacing, was a bit of a bitch.”
“You’re being too kind.” The firefighter sitting at the next table scoffs. “Bitchiness we could handle, but she didn’t let it sit there. She thought she was in control of every scene and tried to get the department shut down by reporting it to the state.”
“That’s enough,” Captain Harvey snaps irately. “She’s gone. Our department is still here, and we’ve got a brand-new paramedic on A shift with you.”
I hear more people shuffle in behind us, but I don’t bother turning around to see who it is. There is plenty of time to get to know everyone after roll call. Especially since I know some of them from school and from growing up mostly in Birch County.
“Alright, everyone. Truck, during downtime you’re going to Birch Harbor Elementary for a safety demonstration.” Captain Harvey looks down at his clipboard. “As all of you geniuses have figured out, our new paramedic, Nia Davidson, starts today. Be welcoming. Don’t scare her away. We don’t want to lose her to any of the two dozen other departments that were vying for her to join them.”
Just like that, my introduction is done. Both the chief and captain walk out of the conference room, effectively leaving us to our own devices.
“Nia.” Ryder Cook, one of the kids from my brother’s graduating class, steps up to our table. “I can’t believe you took Birch’s offer. Wasn’t Bangor offering like twice as much?”
With a laugh, I shake my head. “No, you dork. What did James tell you? They offered me like two more dollars an hour, but that’s it.”
Gem groans next to me. “That’s it? Bangor sucks.”
“I’m glad,” I tell her. “Seriously, it wouldn’t even pay for the trouble or the gas up there and back every day. I’d end up having to move up there, and that shit isn’t happening.”
Reaching under the table, I grab my duffel and nod to Gem. “Can you lead the way? I’m assuming we’re bunking together?”
“Yep.” She gets up after slapping the table. “You losers better figure out what’s for dinner tonight, ’cause Nia’s new, and it was supposed to be Laura’s day to cook.”
A series of groans go up, but I hold up my hand to silence the group. “It’s okay. My sister already told me she’d bring enough food for everyone. As a celebration. Plus, she’s looking for an excuse to harass you guys and make sure that no one fucks with me.”
“Your sister?” An older man, who looks like he could chew me up and spit me out, crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s she bringing?”
“Zip it, Charlie.” Ryder comes to my defense. “Her sister’s the mastermind behind Flare’s menu. You know, the fancy-ass restaurant in Bangor.”
That gets Charlie’s attention, and everyone else’s for that matter.
“Your sister’s a chef?” That comes from a tan man with the most intensely green eyes that I’ve ever seen.
With a nod, I shrug. “She used to be. Once she finally married her husband, she decided to stay home and take care of my niece. Now she just cooks because she loves it. Before you ask, I didn’t bother asking what she was gonna bring. I never question Ella, and she never disappoints.”
Gem is already walking to the door, so I hurry to follow her, not paying attention to where I’m going. Which is how I end up plowing into one of the firefighters.
“Oof.” I step back, tripping over my own feet.
He catches me before I fall on my ass, and I smile up into… Josh’s smirking face.
“What the hell?” The words slip out before I can stop them, a mix of surprise, frustration, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. There’s an immediate rush of emotions through my body including confusion, irritation, and the unmistakable flutter of something I’ve been trying to suppress ever since our paths crossed again. It’s one thing to run into Josh outside of work, to sit across from him at dinner with friends, but it’s another thing entirely to be standing here, in uniform, on my first day, with him holding on to me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Josh doesn’t let go immediately, even though I start to pull away almost as soon as I realize it’s him. There’s a firmness to his grip, a quiet insistence that makes it clear he’s not going to release me until he’s sure I’m steady on my feet. It’s a small gesture, one that would seem harmless to anyone watching, but it sends a jolt of awareness through me that’s hard to ignore. The brief struggle, the way my body instinctively leans into his touch before I catch myself. It’s all too much, too familiar, and too confusing.
Yes, I sat next to him and Kevin at dinner. And yes, I knew that I hadn’t seen the last of him after he called me out on ghosting him after our night together. Especially since he tried to keep it a secret that we slept together, and I dropped it on Kevin like it wasn’t something I’d snuck away from in the dead of night. Or technically the early morning. But that does not mean that I want to see him at work, dressed like every other firefighter in the room.
Struggling to find the words, I settle for the truth. “I thought you were a cop.”
He winks. Right there in the middle of ten men who no doubt see straight through the act I’m putting on. The panicked, breathless bravado that every embarrassed person puts on to cover their ass.
Josh, however, doesn’t let me get away with the act. He steps forward, eliminating the space between us until he is close enough that I can smell the aftershave he has on. The same one he wore the night we were together. And if anyone ever finds out that I've thought about his smell for the last six months, they'll laugh at me.
But I have.
And now, standing here with him so close, it’s like all those thoughts, all those memories, are rushing to the surface, threatening to overwhelm me. I don’t want to be thinking about how good he smells, about how good he felt. Especially not here, not now. But my body has a mind of its own, and no matter how hard I try to push those thoughts away, they linger, taunting me with what could have been, with what might still be.
Almost every single night, as I close my eyes and stare at my ceiling, I think about the way he'd intuitively known exactly what my body needed.
"If you'd stayed long enough to have coffee with me the next morning, I would have told you that was my last night as a cop. Who knows? Maybe if you’d stayed to face the music, last night wouldn’t have been the first time I saw you in six months.” There’s a hint of regret in his tone, a suggestion of what might have been if things had played out differently. His words hit me like a punch to the gut, the casual delivery belying the weight of what he’s saying.
Instead of doing something stupid, like lean into him to get a whiff of his intoxicating scent, I back up a step and then practically run from the room, only to hear his laughter chasing me, followed by the others asking how he knows me.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The word echoes in my mind, a frantic mantra as I try to wrap my head around what just happened. This isn’t how I imagined my first day going. Not by a long shot. I wanted to make a good impression, to blend in, to prove that I’m just as capable as anyone else here. But now, thanks to Josh, everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control. I can’t let this, let him, distract me from what I came here to do. I can’t afford to let my guard down, not now, not ever.
I thought my one wild night was behind me. I didn't know how to find him. Okay, that’s a lie. I knew his name, and I looked him up online. I knew where he lived and that he was a cop. But his profile didn't say anything about being a firefighter, or anything about what he does for work. So how was I supposed to know? I wasn't.
Gem is waiting for me in the hall, wearing a knowing smile.
"Don't." I hold up a hand, stopping her before she can add any fuel to my embarrassment.
“Oh, yeah.” She walks away. "We're gonna get along great. I knew it as soon as I saw you."
She shows me where our bunkroom is, no bigger than the size of my bedroom at home, and I drop my bag on the unoccupied bed. "Thanks."
“Be ready to hit the ground running.” Gem taps the doorframe. "We've been ridiculously busy lately. Gotta be the full moon."
I nod, not bothering to do anything with my stuff.
I follow her back out and into the common area, where the guys are already sitting, but we don't stop there. Instead, Gem leads me through the firehouse and onto the deck.
"This is our rig." She motions to the only ambulance in the bay. "Shift change every twenty-four hours, and we have to make sure to do med-check and equipment before we hand it over."
Again, I nod but don't interrupt her. During my clinical hours, I learned everything she is telling me. But more than that, I learned that there's no such thing as going over things too often.
"I'm sure you've done this already. Hell, by the time I got my paramedic certs, I could do it blindfolded." Gem laughs before opening the back doors. "I don't care how things are organized, as long as I can get what I need easily and without complaint. I will say that I absolutely hate being in the back of the rig. I get carsick. But I'll do it if I have to. Do you have a problem with me driving?"
"No." I shake my head. "I'm the youngest of four kids. I never got a chance to ride shotgun. I don't get carsick, thankfully."
"Good."
Right as she shuts the doors, the alarm starts blaring.
"Attention Birch EMS. Please respond to 617 Maple Street for reports of an unknown person down. I repeat…" The dispatcher’s voice crackles through the speakers, but before the message can finish, we’re already moving. There’s a sense of urgency in the air, a palpable shift in energy as Gem leaps into the driver’s seat with practiced ease. I follow suit, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling up in record time. My mind is racing, running through all the possible scenarios we might encounter, but I push the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
"Told you," Gem says with a smile. "I hope you're an adrenaline junkie too."
I click the mic, not bothering to answer her over the raging of my blood through my veins. "Birch EMS responding."
As we race out of the bay and through downtown Birch, my heart continues to beat unsteadily against my ribs. Gem turns onto Maple less than three minutes later, and I start counting the houses and staring at the mailboxes.
"There it is." I point to a large white house.
She's barely thrown the ambulance into park before we have the doors open and our gear dragged out of the back.
On the front lawn stands a little boy, no older than ten or so, with a phone pressed to his ear.
"My mom won't get up." He coughs loudly. "And the candles we were using caught the curtains on fire." He coughs again, and my mind goes blank.
"What?" Gem takes control. "Did you say there's a fire inside, too?"
He nods, and she grabs the mic on her shoulder to get more help. Unsure of what I should be doing, I stare at the open front door of the house and wait to be told. If there is a fire inside, protocol is well-defined. We can't go in until the scene is clear. There isn't any smoke. Not yet at least. But the house we stand in front of is old, at least thirty if not forty years old. It isn't going to last long.
"Is there anyone else in the house?" The words catch in my throat, but I force them out. "Besides your mom. Where is your mom?"
"She's with my sister, in the bathroom."
As he speaks, the fire we haven't seen before flares to life.
"Shit." Gem groans loudly. "We can't go inside."
The boy starts crying, trying to get away from Gem, and that's when I realize she isn't talking to me. She is talking to the little boy.
"Don't worry," she goes on. "The firefighters are going to be here in just a minute. You can already hear them, can't you?"
"My sister," he cries. "My little sister. She’s only three."
Shit.
Because there is no way in hell I’m not going in.
Pulling my shirt up over my mouth, I ignore Gem’s protests and rush into the burning building.
I’m so gonna get fired.