Chapter 3 #2
I’m command and can do all the roles as the need arises. I can even bake … and apparently be a greedy cake tyrant. A new low. “Whatever. I’ve let it go. You should, too.”
Austin snorts. “But you’re thinking about it. I can tell.”
James leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. He’s got that James Dean look—dark hair, brooding expression, the kind of guy who should be in movies instead of running into burning buildings.
“How is Peony?” I ask, changing the subject.
His jaw clenches. “Fine.”
Not fine, then. They were high school sweethearts, have been married for years, and lately, every time I see them, it’s like they’re on opposing teams, acting like strangers—trivia night included. I don’t ask. Not my business.
Handsome Hayes, the rookie who’s too pretty for his own good, bounds in with coffee. “Did you guys hear that Mayor Barbie is announcing the Fireman’s Ball Committee assignments today?”
I grunt because this means more tasks—as if we didn’t already have enough on our hands, stretched thin as the main responders to a geographical area double that of other crews, but with half the population—though that’s changing with a huge influx of new construction, which will bring new residents.
“Today?” I ask.
“Yep. The email went out an hour ago.”
I haven’t checked. I’ve been on a mountain. My preferred location. Sky, silence, solid ground beneath my feet. Zero cake drama. No trivia night spectacles.
Austin says, “Chances are you’re on a team with Winnie again.”
“Like at Tacos & Trivia night?” Hayes asks.
I say, “Don’t talk like that. It’s unprofessional.”
“So is refusing to give her a Crush Cake.”
I head for my locker, Oreo trailing behind me.
The guys mean well, but they don’t get it.
Austin is a romantic—believes in true love and all that garbage that’ll eventually bite him on the butt.
As far as I can tell, James is holding his marriage together with duct tape and stubbornness.
Scotty is too focused on firefighting to date.
Reese may be in a long-distance relationship, but he won’t say with whom, even though Austin hounds him.
Hayes is still figuring out which end of the hose goes where—last week, he literally flooded the bay.
None of them understands why I stay single.
But they should because we all face the same uncertainties.
While I organize my gear, I offer unsolicited advice, “Do you know why I don’t do relationships? Firefighters make terrible partners. Long hours, dangerous work, and the constant possibility of not coming home. My dad proved that. My mom …” I pause. She never recovered. I won’t do that to someone.
Austin rolls his eyes. “Your dad is a hero and died in the line of duty twenty-four years ago. That doesn’t mean—”
“It means I’m not putting someone through that. Especially not some sunshine-y people-pleaser who’d eventually resent the job, the hours, the danger.”
Austin points at me. “You mean Winnie.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I could’ve been talking about anyone. Susan from dispatch, for example.”
“She’s sixty-five and married to one of your cousins.”
How’d he know that? Oh yeah, small town.
James pushes off the doorframe. “Maybe you should give her a chance. She seems nice. Then again, she is best friends with Peony.”
I chuckle. “Is that a warning or a recommendation?”
He snorts.
I continue, “Anyway, everyone is nice until they’re not.”
“That’s paranoid.”
“That’s realistic.”
“Paranoid,” Austin repeats.
“Or prepared,” I suggest.
“Preparanoid?” Hayes asks.
Now, I’m just getting annoyed.
Scotty shakes his head. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m practical. There’s a difference.”
“Yeah, impossible means it can’t be done. Practical means you’re being stubborn,” Scotty delivers this in a rare show of involvement in non-work-related topics of discussion—unless fishing is involved. He’s a big fan.
The conversation dies as the captain—our actual captain, not the ghost of Captain Kendrick—visiting from Carson City, sticks his head in. “Cross, you got a minute?”
I follow Leyton to his office. He’s officially stationed in Carson City, serves as our interim captain, and comes to the site once a week.
Given his legendary leadership, we all respect him and his wife owns a bakery, so I’ve sought his advice as we open our shop.
Likely, the position will be offered to me since I do most of the work of a captain as it is.
He hands me a stack of rejected permit applications. “Parks & Rec dropped these off—something about incomplete documentation and zoning variances. You’ll need to resubmit.”
I flip through the pages. Red stamps everywhere. Denied. Denied. Denied.
This is going to cause a setback, which doesn’t help since the contractor is on a tight schedule. The equipment orders are time and installation-sensitive.
“Thank you,” I say.
We invited him to buy into the bakery, but he’s already spread thin between the two departments.
It was a toss-up between a brewery and a bakery. Since I don’t drink and Austin accidentally came up with those ridiculous and delicious cakes, we ran with it—just like James runs out the door. Not to get home to his wife, but to keep up with his glutes.
I check the time and have to leave, otherwise I’ll be late for a meeting.