Chapter 7
SEVEN
SAVANNAH
“What are you doing back, duck?” Linda peers over her computer screen, pink-framed glasses balanced precariously on the end of her nose.
I shuffle on the spot, clutching at the soft knit of my cropped sweater.
It feels weird not being in uniform while in the station.
I clocked out from my night shift over an hour ago.
Wandered the neighborhood. Went to the grocery store.
Found myself looking for any excuse not to return home. Why? Nix.
The ditch-the-feature plan we devised had felt solid at the time.
Thanks to her feisty positivity I’d actually come around to the concept of saying no.
Like it wasn’t equal to me failing and letting the cap down.
The best excuse we came up with involved twisting his words in my favor.
I’m a female probie firefighter so I’m already working hard to fit in.
I shouldn’t have something else loaded onto my shoulders.
However, as soon as I was back in the station, my courage disappeared on a long-haul flight to Bangkok.
Only the knowledge that Nix will be sitting in the kitchen, all chirpy because she’s such a morning person, waiting for my update before she leaves for school, has brought me back here. Determined to do what I have to.
It’s time to step up.
I continue my shuffling as I attempt a smile at Linda. “Is the cap still around?” I know he is. I can hear the muffled sound of his voice through his closed office door.
“He is, my dear, but your young man is in there with him.”
I frown. “What young man?”
“You know, that dishy reporter from the Herald. You’re such a lucky duck. I’d very happily take him home for supper if you know what I mean.” She winks.
“What?” Oh. My. God. Both because Brodie’s here, and also, well, yuck.
Linda leans forward like she’s about to share something classified.
“Now, when I said ‘your man’ I didn’t mean literally your man.
” She jiggles her eyebrows. “But judging by your beetroot cheeks, maybe you like the idea of him being your man. Come on, tell Auntie Linda everything. Are you sweet on your reporter?”
It’s too much. My pulse spikes with embarrassment, leaving my only option to make a run for it.
And I might have made it down the corridor and back into the fresh air if the captain’s office door hadn’t opened at that very moment, meaning instead of escaping, I run straight into the very last person I want to see.
Honestly, even running into my dad would be preferable.
My body bounces flush against Brodie’s—for the record, rock-solid like a frickin’ mountain—before I ricochet back a couple of steps.
I look up and meet his eyes, my throat feeling like I’ve just swallowed a bag of tortilla chips.
“Savannah.” His voice is extra husky. Maybe he’s as unsettled by our surprise full-body contact as I am.
I fumble for something to say, anything, but the captain steps forward.
“Ahh, East. Perfect timing. I need to talk with you.”
My pulse jacks again. I look at the captain, but he’s already strolling back into his office so I glare daggers at Brodie. Oh god, surely he hasn’t shared our history. Brodie simply shrugs.
Thanks for the help, buddy.
I sigh and follow the cap, my back hot with the awareness that both Brodie and Auntie Linda are watching me.
“Close the door, Savannah.”
The captain never calls me Savannah. My hand trembles with adrenaline and I silently pray today’s the day the big one arrives. The only thing that can save me now is a massive earthquake swallowing the city whole.
Steepling his hands, he rests his chin on them. “I’ve just had an interesting chat with Brodie. I had no idea you two knew each other in college.”
I blink at him. “Uh, yeah. He was the year above me.”
“He also said he’s no longer writing the feature about the ladder.”
I swallow, willing my voice to stay even. “Really? Did he say why?”
“It doesn’t matter. I managed to talk him around.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, I want to share something confidential, but I need your word you won’t speak to anyone about this.”
I frown. “Yes, Cap.”
“I mean it. That’s an order. You can’t mention this to any of the crew. Definitely not Linda. And although I’ve discussed some of this with Brodie off the record, it’s not to be discussed further. This stays between you and me, are we clear?”
“Of course.” My frown deepens.
Drawing back, he rubs a hand over his jaw. The rough scratch of his stubble fills the silence between us. “The future of our fire hall is in trouble, Savannah. Serious trouble.”
“What?” My breath catches. “Why? Is this about what you said before… about saving the ladder?”
His nose twitches. Nothing fazes the captain, but whatever this is clearly has him rattled. “Are you aware of the noise surrounding Springer’s arrival last year?”
“I wasn’t here then, Cap.”
“I expect the others have shared the details.”
I dig through my memories but my brain feels like Swiss cheese.
I’m on the back end of two night shifts, I’m reeling from the full force of Brodie’s Superman body, and I’ve just been told the place that means everything to me is in serious trouble.
I don’t remember what bra size I am, let alone some gossip that impacted the fire department before I joined.
“Um, no. I don’t think so.”
He visibly slumps as if that’s the worst news I could share.
“Last year, one of the fire halls across the city was embroiled in a scandal. A crew member got involved with someone on the administrative team and when their relationship went south it got ugly. Fast. It resulted in an investigation by the top brass, and citywide policy was revised to prohibit relations between co-workers. You’ll know about that from the contract addendum you signed when you joined. ”
“Sure. I had no idea it was a new addition though. Or why it was brought…” I frown, processing what he’s telling me. “Are you saying that’s why Springer moved here? He came from the hall caught up in the trouble?”
The captain nods.
“Was it him who… you know…?”
“We’re not getting into that.”
My eyes pop. Clearly it was. I store that piece of info somewhere safe for later. “But what’s all this got to do with us here?”
“Well, understandably the whole escapade has had some far-reaching results, not least in terms of funding decisions.”
I sip in a mouthful of air, hating where my gut says this is going. “Meaning?”
He glances away. “Meaning the internal investigation put small community fire halls under the microscope. Labeled them a drain on resources and the seat of poor behavior.” He clears his throat.
“There’s speculation circling up top that the long-term plan is to replace them with centrally administered, larger, and more cost-effective units covering greater mileage. ”
“But we’re a small community fire hall.”
He nods, meeting my gaze, his laced with sadness.
A gasp falls out before I can stop it. “What? But… they can’t close us down. The people here rely on us.”
“Sadly that’s not how this works. We’re the smallest and therefore top to be culled.”
Fuck.
I collapse against my chair, the wood digging into my shoulder blades. “So what you’re saying is that because Springer couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, Eight is facing closure? When Eight wasn’t anything to do with his dickish behavior in the first place?”
“No, Savannah. That’s not—”
I cut him off, frustration taking over. “Why are you telling me all this?”
He coughs again. Followed by another nose twitch. And jaw scratch. All awkward as hell. “I wanted to check you’re still on board with being the subject of the Herald’s article.” His eyes land on me. “And that you have no issue working with Brodie.”
I freeze.
This is it. My chance to stand up for myself.
To put mine and Nix’s plan into action and say no.
One syllable. Two letters. But under the glare of the cap’s unwavering attention, and after all I’ve just been told, my mouth simply opens and closes like a fish.
The word no seemingly obliterated from my vocabulary.
“Savannah, I appreciate that you’re already working very hard. And please know that I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I had any other option; but the truth is, you’re our best hope.”
And the last puzzle piece falls into place.
It’s not just that he wants the article to be about me.
He needs it to be about me. “Oh my god. You’re wanting to demonstrate how we’re not a seat of poor behavior but are in fact vital to the local community.
And rather than being somewhere young women are treated badly, we’re somewhere young women can aspire to work. Young women like me.”
“Bingo.” He eases his gaze, returning to the items on his desk.
He straightens the piece of paper he was fussing with before and then lines up a hole punch.
“Eight’s fate isn’t yet set in stone, meaning there’s a chance we can shift the narrative.
Show the value we offer. Get the West End community on our side.
They’re always a force to be reckoned with when they make their voices heard.
” He stops with his stationery shuffling.
“And you’re also a force to be reckoned with, Savannah.
You do this and you can help keep Hall Eight right here in the West End. You literally can save the ladder.”
I nod, my head spinning.
He smooths his salt-and-pepper hair and then his eyes narrow, glancing at my outfit. “Why are you not in uniform?”
“I already finished for the day. I wanted to speak to you before I left.”
“Oh? What about?”
I exhale, mine and Nix’s plan fading into the ether.
I can’t back out on this article now. Not with my involvement being so critical to the future of the ladder.
This isn’t about the captain needing me to speak up.
Or even the crew. It’s about the whole West End community.
The families who live here. The children whose lives will be at risk if Hall Eight is shut down.
“It doesn’t matter. But as I’m here, maybe we should go over the talking points Linda gave me earlier this week. Make sure I’m clear on exactly what you need me to do.”