Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Ethan
“Ican’t believe I’m stuck here during Fight Night,” Doug whines as he sulks around the fire station like a kid grounded on prom night.
I don’t look up from my book. Bubba is sprawled across my legs on his back, looking and feeling like a sack of warm potatoes.
He’s snoring with his paws twitching in the air, probably dreaming of something, but all he does is nap, so he’s probably dreaming of taking a different nap.
I don’t have the heart to move him even though my right leg is cramping up.
Doug stops at the punching bag and shadow boxes, barely tapping the bag with his knuckles.
“You think James already won?” he asks.
“Probably,” I say, turning a page I didn’t actually read. I sigh as I turn it back and start over at the top.
Doug starts pacing again, his eyes darting to the door. “You think Lincoln remembered to place my bet?”
“Yes.”
“You think he’ll forget the twenty-five percent thing?”
“Not a chance.”
Doug groans and drags a hand down his face. “This is bullshit.”
Bubba lets out a louder snore, like he agrees.
“Let’s go drive around,” Doug says, heading to the window. “It’s a beautiful night. I bet a lot of girls are out.”
“We’re on duty.”
“It will only take a minute.”
I just ignore him.
He huffs out a frustrated breath. “What are you even reading?”
“At the moment, nothing. Because you keep talking to me.”
“I never understood people that read,” he says. “Why read when you can do literally anything else?”
“It’s relaxing, it’s fun, it makes you smarter.”
He scoffs. “I’m smart enough, thanks. I’m smart enough to know that reading is stupid.”
“We’re stuck here all night,” I say, rubbing Bubba’s chest. “Try to sit down and relax.”
He pulls out a chair, but he doesn’t sit down. Instead he tilts it onto one leg and spins it. “You think girls will come and see me in May like they’re coming to see you?”
I look up at his hopeful face and swallow hard. I don’t know what to say to that.
But, before I can say anything, the alarm blares through the quiet station.
Bubba jerks awake as I jump up. He rolls off my legs and lands on the floor with a thud as I race over to my gear.
“Sorry, Bubba!” I shout as I jump into my pants and boots.
Doug is beside me, yanking his pants up too.
Dispatch crackles over the speakers.
“Engine 38, respond to a reported barn fire on Old Mill Road. Flames visible.”
Doug’s face changes as we yank on our jackets. The sulking is gone. He’s focused now. We both are.
We yank on our helmets and leap into the truck. I jump into the driver’s seat and hit the lights.
We tear out of the bay and into the night, sirens screaming. The town flashes by in streaks of red and white as our emergency lights reflect off the buildings. A couple of girls outside the bar turn and wave as we pass.
Doug sticks his head out the window. “Mr. May, check it out!”
I don’t even glance in their direction. My eyes are already scanning the road ahead.
I take the shortcut past the quarry, the one Graham doesn’t like because it’s narrow and dark. It shaves a minute off the drive, and tonight that minute matters. There are usually no fire hydrants where we’re going so we’re going to have to move fast.
“I know books aren’t exciting like this,” Doug says with a grin as I take a sharp turn, my body pushing into the door.
I grin as I look at him. “No, they’re not.”
The truck rolls over a hill and my pulse starts racing when I see the glowing orange up ahead.
“It’s a hot one,” Doug whispers as we race toward it.
“A stream,” I say when I spot a small snaking stream running beside the property. We got some luck after all.
It’s a large barn and the flames are only restricted to one side. I would have thought the whole thing would have gone up by now. That old wood is usually like kindling.
I slam on the brakes, throw the truck into park, and hop out.
“Check for a hydrant,” I call out to Doug as I head for the burning barn. I’m the senior firefighter and I’m in charge.
Doug may be a pain in the ass to hang out with and he may be a dope when it comes to the ladies, but he’s a hell of a fireman.
“No hydrant!” he shouts.
“Set up a draft line from the stream,” I tell him. “Now.”
“On it,” he shouts as he runs to the truck.
I grab my flashlight and sprint toward the blazing barn. Heat hits me before I reach the open door. Smoke pours out in heavy waves.
“Fire department!” I shout. “Anyone inside?”
I step in and collide with a woman coming out. She stumbles out, coughing while clutching an empty fire extinguisher.
Her hair is wild and her bloodshot eyes are all wide and glassy. She has little symbols painted on her arms and she’s wearing an apron smeared with clay.
“Please,” she says, voice breaking. “Everything I have is in there.”
She turns and squeezes the handle of the fire extinguisher, but nothing happens. Now I know why this building isn’t engulfed in flames. She was in there bravely keeping the blaze at bay.
I grab her arm and pull her back. I don’t want this girl anywhere near these flames or near this thick smoke.
“It’s my kiln,” she says, coughing. “It’s spitting out fire.”
“Is anyone else in there?” I ask, not wanting to let her go.
“No,” she says. “Just my whole life.”
“Stay out here or you might not have a life,” I warn her. “We’ll take care of the flames.”
“Doug!” I shout as I run back to the truck. “Status!”
“Working on it!” Doug shouts. “There’s a raccoon down here who’s mad as hell. Ow!”
I let out a frustrated growl, grab two large fire extinguishers from the truck, and sprint back inside.
If the flames are contained to one side of the building, maybe I can save the structure.
I duck under the heavy black smoke and survey the scene. Flames are travelling along the scorched wooden floor near the kiln, crawling up the wall, and snaking toward the ceiling. Shelves are overturned and broken pottery is everywhere—cups, bowls, and vases shattered to pieces.
I grip the first extinguisher and unleash it. White powder explodes into the air, thick and blinding. The fire along the floor and ceiling dies, but the kiln is spitting out flames like it’s alive.
“Doug!” I holler, hoping he can hear me. “Turn the power off!”
The woman rushes back in, scrambles past me, rips a painting off the wall, and slams the breaker hidden behind it.
The kiln powers down. The flames falter.
She grabs the second extinguisher and we work together, side by side, finishing it off. We douse that fucker with white powder until it’s a scorched, smoking, flameless mess.
“Ready, Ethan!” Doug shouts from outside.
“Fire’s out,” I call back.
He appears in the doorway a moment later, bleeding from a scratch on his face.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“Fucking raccoon,” he says, breathing hard. “He was such a dick.”
I turn to the woman, take her arm, and guide her outside. She’s shaking and staring at the destruction like she can’t quite process it yet.
“You’re okay,” I whisper in a soothing tone as I get her away from the danger. “Things can be rebuilt. You’re okay, that’s what’s most important.”
She finally looks at me.
God, those eyes… Even though they’re watery and bloodshot, they still tighten my core. My soul seizes as she looks up at me.
“It’s you,” she says, not taking her stunned eyes off me. “The man from the calendar.”
Oh god.
Not this again.
My shoulders drop.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s me.”
“I’m Mr. May,” Doug says, butting in. “Did you see my photo yet?”
She jerks her head to the side like it’s the first time she’s even realized he’s here. “Um, no.”
“You’re in for a treat,” he says with a big grin, blood sliding down his face and dripping off the tip of his nose. “I’m hot.”
“Mr. May-Want-To-Get-A-Tissue,” I say, motioning to his nose. “You’re bleeding pretty badly.”
“Stupid raccoon,” he says, shaking his head as he heads back to the truck. “This is not the kind of Fight Night I was hoping for.”
The night feels quieter after he leaves. Too quiet.
Now the the flames are out, the insects start talking again, moving on with their social lives.
The last of the smoke curls into the dark sky as the red flashing lights of the fire truck light up the forested area. The barn groans softly, like it’s catching its breath.
She still looks uneasy as she stares at the scene like she’s afraid it might burst into flames again at any moment. I put my hand on her arm to steady her, to ground her—and maybe to ground myself too.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans in a little closer.
She’s close enough that I can smell the smoke in her hair. I wonder what she usually smells like. I bet it’s something sweet and delicious.
Her chest rises and falls fast, her breathing still uneven.
“I knew that kiln was going to be trouble,” she says suddenly. “But I didn’t know it would try to take out my whole studio.”
“You held back the fire with a fire extinguisher,” I tell her, trying to hide the awe in my voice. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe that whole barn didn’t burn to the ground.”
She looks at the barn and something tight twists in my chest. I can tell this place means something special to her. I can see it in the way she’s standing there, barefoot on the gravel, apron streaked and ruined, staring at the wreckage in disbelief.
“I just finished it,” she says with a sigh. “It took months.”
“What is it?” I ask gently.
“My pottery studio,” she says. “My home. My business. Everything I had, really.”
My heart breaks for her. I wish I could turn back time and save it.
“You live here?”
“I did,” she says, wiping her face with the back of her hand. It smears the black soot on her cheek and leaves a faint streak of white powder. “In the loft.”
I take a deep breath and put my hand up, like I’m asking her not to follow me. “Stay here. I’ll go check it out.”
She nods and lets me go inside.
The north side of the building is fucked, but it’s not all bad news. She was smart enough to put the kiln away from the loft where it could do the least amount of damage. The loft is still intact, although it’s covered in a faint coat of white powder, and the bathroom is untouched.
It’s really not that bad. The floor in this area will have to be changed, along with the wall and a portion of the ceiling, but other than that, it seems okay. The structure seems secure. No major beams are compromised. I can seem them just fine. It’s mostly cosmetic.
She got lucky.
I pull off my glove and check for hot spots with my hand. I don’t feel any and there’s no more burning smell coming from anywhere.
Once I’m certain there is no more fire risk, I take a look at her studio, wanting to know everything about her.
There are some beautiful ceramic pieces tucked away on some shelves that didn’t get damaged and a gorgeous painting of the mountains on an easel in the corner.
My god, she’s so talented. I can’t get over her.
“How bad is it?” she asks, peeking her head into the doorway.
“Not too bad,” I say, waving her in. “It’s mostly good news.”
“Really?” she asks, her face lighting up with hope.
“You’re going to need an electrician to come in and rewire that wall,” I tell her, “and you’ll need to fix the floor, wall, and ceiling over there, but there’s not much more than that besides cleaning up the mess.”
“I fixed it once,” she says proudly, “I can do it again.”
She looks around and smiles. “At least, my most prized possession didn’t get damaged,” she says with a grin.
I look where she’s looking and laugh. That stupid calendar is hanging on the wall, unharmed.
“Lucky you,” I say with a grin.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The space between us feels charged, humming, like the air right before a storm breaks.
I remember the way her warm skin felt under my fingertips and a longing to touch her again hits hard.
“I’m June,” she says.
“I’m April,” I say and then immediately catch myself. “I mean, Ethan.”
She chuckles as my cheeks go hot from embarrassment.
Her mouth curves into a small smile as she watches me.
The sound of tires crunching on gravel fill the air and then there are truck doors opening and closing and male voices outside.
“Who’s that?” she asks.
“The rest of the calendar,” I say as I head outside. “January through December.”
The cool air hits my sweaty face. Graham and the boys are swarming the area, all of them in business mode.
“It’s all good, Chief,” I say as Graham comes over, looking up at the roof. “Fire is out. The damage is mostly cosmetic.”
“Good,” he says, putting his hand on my shoulder as he walks by. “I’ll double check just in case.”
“Did I win the bet?” Doug asks, coming out of the fire truck with a huge bandage taped to his forehead.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Mason asks.
“Oh,” he says, like he just remembered he has a giant Maxi Pad taped to his face. “I had a run in.”
“With who?”
“With… a raccoon.”
They all burst out laughing.
“Did I win the bet or not?”
Lincoln pulls out a wad of cash and dumps it into Doug’s hand. “James knocked him out in forty-seven seconds.”
“Nice,” Doug says as he flips through the cash. “Did you take twenty-five percent?”
“It’s all yours,” he says. “Maybe we should go double or nothing on you and the raccoon.”
“I’m taking the raccoon,” Mason says.
“Me too,” James says as he takes care of the hose.
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” I ask June in a low voice.
“I’m staying here,” she says. “I stayed here when this place looked worse than that.”
I grin as I watch the determination in her eyes. She’s something else.
“It’s unsafe with the fumes,” I tell her, wondering how I can offer my place without coming off as creepy. “There’ll be lingering smoke and extinguisher powder in the air. I don’t want you breathing that in while you’re sleeping.”
“I have a tent,” she says, giving me a grateful smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“At least let me check you for smoke inhalation.”
Her shoulders drop as she looks up at me with a grin. “Okay, Mr. April. You can do that.”