Chapter 36 Patton
PATTON
It’s barely daybreak when the alarm screams through the station with the second call in less than twelve hours—a rarity. I drag myself from sleep that had me dreaming about Winnie, probably because I replayed everything she said on the steps as I was drifting off.
I love you, Patton.
I put on my turnout gear before I’m fully conscious, muscle memory taking over while my brain catches up.
“Major structure fire, Carson City limits,” Captain Leyton’s voice crackles over the radio. “Engine Seven. Old warehouse district. Seventeen Prospect Road. Code three. Possible people inside.”
Austin appears beside me, eyes still bleary but focused. “Ready?”
“Always.”
As we load onto the engine, sirens split the just barely dawn quiet, but my mind isn’t only on the fire ahead. It’s on the woman I left standing outside the Ball last night. The conversation we started but didn’t finish.
Tomorrow, we said.
But what if there is no tomorrow?
The notion hits me like a sucker punch, and I force it down. Can’t think like that. Not when people might need me. It’s a thought ladder that leads nowhere.
When we arrive, the warehouse’s silhouette against the lightening sky is like a beast breathing smoke and flame. Orange light flickers through broken windows, and even from our position, I can feel the heat radiating off the structure.
The Carson City Fire Department is already on scene. Captain Leyton organizes the outsiders with the calm gained from over thirty years of experience on the line.
“Cross!” Leyton waves me over. “We’ve got reports of a security guard who didn’t check in. Might still be inside. You and your crew take the north entrance. We have Engine Nine and Four covering the east and west.”
I nod, already assessing the building. The roof is compromised—I can see it sagging in the middle. Best estimate is that we have maybe twenty minutes before the whole thing comes down.
“Austin, Scotty, James—with me. Hayes, stay with the engine.” I turn to the rookie. “And I mean stay. No heroics.”
“But—”
“That’s an order.”
We move in formation, the heat intensifying with every step. Inside, the smoke is thick enough to chew, visibility near zero. My in-helmet audio provides updates from the other teams—alpha side clear, bravo still conducting preliminary search.
“North side, moving to the main office area,” I report, voice muffled through my mask.
The fire roars around us like a living thing. Hungry, angry, awesome, and terrible all at once.
Fire is what my father faced. What killed him. I think about this at least once in situations like the one on Alpine Ridge, but it never came with another concern. Not returning to Winnie enters my mind, unbidden, and I push it away.
Focus on the job. Search the rooms. Find the guard.
We’re in what looks like a break area when movement interrupts the pattern in my periphery. We go still. I hear a low groan, barely audible over the fire’s roar.
“Southeast corner,” I signal to Scotty, who is built for going into danger, saving lives, whatever the cost.
We find a man slumped against a filing cabinet, his security uniform covered in soot, unconscious but breathing. Scotty and I work together—years of training make us move like one unit. We get him secured, ready for extraction.
Then, through the haze, something shifts, followed by a creaking sound that reminds me of a ship’s hull, away at sea, but we’re not battling water. This is fire, smoke, instability.
“Move!” I shout, but it’s already too late.
Part of the ceiling collapses between us and the exit—a cascade of burning timber and twisted metal dropping down like the end of the world. The impact throws me sideways, and for a moment, everything is uncertain.
But then the dust settles. I’m still breathing.
I call for Scotty.
“Here. Austin?”
“I’m good! Reese?”
“Got a pulse. James?”
“Still kicking,” we go down the line, confirming our status.
Meanwhile, I take stock that nothing is broken and that my gear is intact. The guard stirs, which is good. The fact that we’re cut off from our exit route, not so much. “We need another way out.”
“Copy that.” Austin’s voice is steady, but I detect an edge in it.
We’ve been in bad situations before and I trust my crew, but my brain buzzes with thoughts of Winnie. She told me she loves me. I never said how I really feel because I was too scared of exactly this moment.
Austin’s voice comes through the radio. “Service corridor, north wall. Should connect to the loading dock.”
We move, supporting the guard between us, navigating by feel and instinct and the faint glow of James’s flashlight ahead. The heat is intense, sweat pours down my face inside the mask, every breath burning my lungs even through the filter.
If I die in here, Winnie will never know that I love her. That her smile is the first thing I think about when I wake up. That I want a future with her.
The fear of not telling her suddenly seems worse than any fire.
“Almost there,” James calls back.
Reese confirms, “Loading dock doors ahead.”
We burst into the cold morning air, and I’ve never been more grateful for the sting of it in my lungs. Paramedics rush forward to take the guard. I collapse onto the bumper of our engine, legs suddenly unreliable.
Austin drops down beside me, pulling off his mask. His face is covered in soot, making his teeth look unnaturally white when he grins. “Well, that was fun.”
“Your definition of fun is concerning.”
“Says Maverick … the guy who chose this job.”
I let out a long breath.
He nudges my shoulder. “You good?”
I stare at my hands—scarred, dirty, the hands of a firefighter. The hands of my father’s son. “I was thinking about her in there.”
“Of course you were.”
“How do you know?”
He heaves a sigh. “Because I do. When you let yourself … you know … about someone, when you’re in situations like that, it’s like you see your whole life flash before your eyes and realize half of it is missing.”
I huff a laugh that might sound slightly hysterical, surprised to be having a conversation like that with Austin James Bond, King Bachelor, of all people.
Through the haze in my mind, I vaguely wonder if that means Austin loves someone?
Thinking back to the Fireman’s Ball, he brought his best friend.
But he said they’re just friends. Made a big deal about it, actually.
He chuckles. “It’s been like a wild animal nature show watching you fall in love for three months.”
“That obvious?”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Yeah, brother. That obvious.”
The sun paints the smoke-filled sky in bold strokes of persimmon and cornflower. It’s beautiful, despite the destruction at my back. Beauty and danger, all mixed together.
Like loving Winnie.
“I now get why my mom chose him, even knowing the risks. She knew what could happen every time he left. But she loved him anyway because—” I stop, searching for the words. “Because loving someone isn’t about knowing how it could end.”
“Maverick, that’s deep for seven a.m.”
“It’s almost eight.”
“Still early for philosophy.” Austin stands, stretching. “But you’re right. And for what it’s worth? Winnie knows the risks, too. She’s choosing you, anyway.”
I pull out my phone with shaking hands and send her a message.
Me: We were called to another bad fire.
Her reply is instant, as if she’d been waiting to hear from me.
Winnie: Are you okay?
Me: I’m fine. Everyone is safe. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
The typing bubbles appear and disappear multiple times before her response comes through.
Winnie: Maybe we can get together today and talk. No pressure, though.
Me: I want to talk to you more than anything. But I need some rest and not smell like I lost a fight with a bonfire first.
Winnie: You could never smell bad.
Me: Did I read that right or am I experiencing the effects of an adrenaline crash and sleep deprivation?
Winnie: Maybe I just really like you … and the way you smell. Is that weird?
I stare at that message, grinning like an idiot.
Me: Crush Cakes at 3?
Winnie: It’s a date.
I finally breathe easy, confident that whatever is said, whatever we do, it’s going to be okay.
Back at the station, everyone gathers in the common room, debriefing—we’re all accounted for, the security guard is stable at the hospital, and the fire is out. It was a good save. It was the kind of call that reminds us why we do this job.
Oreo greets me at the door and his tail is a windshield wiper set to high. He wasn’t at the fire—can’t risk the dog in active situations—but he always knows when we’ve had a rough call. He presses against my legs, whining softly.
“I’m okay, boy,” I murmur, crouching down to scratch behind his ears.
He stays close as I head to the shower, like he needs the reassurance.
Or maybe he’s remembering another handler who didn’t come back.
I glance at the Memorial Wall. This job has a cost. We all know it.
We all accept it. But asking someone else to accept it?
To wait, not knowing if you’ll come home? That’s a different kind of bravery.
The shower is scalding hot, washing away the soot and smoke but not the clarity that came with it.
I stare at my reflection in the foggy mirror—my father’s eyes staring back at me, his jawline, his stubborn determination and serious expression that Winnie has somehow learned to crack with a single smile.
“I get it now, Dad. I finally get it,” I whisper.
The station is quiet when I emerge, most of the crew resting or at home. Austin catches my eye from across the bay.
Grabbing my keys, I tell James and Reese I’m going to take Oreo to my house.
But instead of going straight there, I take a long and winding drive past the Timber’s Edge Inn and Resort on my drive to the cemetery.
The sun is high, morning light filtering through the trees as I make my way to the section where firefighters rest.
Dad’s headstone is simple granite with a cross etched at the top. I sit on the bench nearby, setting down the coffee I grabbed from the gas station—two cups, a habit from visiting with Mom.
“Hey, Dad.” My voice sounds rough, wrecked. “Been a while.” Actually, I haven’t been here since January when I found out Winnie and I were assigned the task of planning the Fireman’s Ball together.
The wind rustles through the pines.
“I met someone. Her name is Vincenza Sparkles-Sequins-Sticky Notes Elizabeth Sorrentino. I call her Winnie. You’d like her. She’s beautiful, funny, stubborn, organized, and somehow makes me want to be better.” I pause. “She told me she loves me. And I think—no, I know—I love her too.”
A bird calls from somewhere in the trees.
“I’m terrified … of losing her. Of her losing me. Of turning into you and Mom—” I stop, shaking my head. “That came out wrong. What I mean is, I watched what losing you did to Mom. Watched her barely survive it and I swore I’d never put anyone through that.”
Crouching, I take a sip of coffee, reading the headstone. My father was only thirty-eight when he passed away. I’m thirty-six now. Too close to the age he was when everything ended.
“But I finally understand something. Mom would choose you again. She said so. That even knowing how it would end, she wouldn’t trade a single moment.” My throat tightens. “I thought it was crazy. Now I think it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard.”
The sun breaks through the clouds, warming my face.
“So I’m going to tell Winnie. I’m going to risk it. Because not loving her—spending my life safe and alone because I’m too scared to choose her is worse than any fire I’ve ever faced.”
I stand, touching the cold granite one more time. “Wish you were here to meet her. She would’ve charmed you in about thirty seconds flat.”
As I’m walking back to my truck, my phone rings with a call from my mom. Twice in one day is a record. Then again, two fires like the ones we attacked earlier are also rare.
Her voice is firm but warm. “I have something important to ask you.” She pauses. “Would you mind if I had lunch with Winnie today?”
I stop walking. “You want to have lunch with Winnie?”
“I’d like to meet the young woman who has my son smiling all the time.”
“How do you know—?”
“I can hear it in your voice. We’re planning on meeting at noon at Huck’s. I already invited her. Just us, okay.” There’s mischief in her voice. “Just wanted to give you fair warning.”
“So you weren’t asking?”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I just want her to know a few things.” She laughs. “I love you, sweetie. Get some rest before your date this afternoon. You’re going to need your energy for the conversation you two need to have.”
She hangs up before I can respond.
My mom is having lunch with Winnie in a few hours. I rub my eyes, worried I’m dreaming. Whistling for Oreo, we’re back in my truck, heading toward home for that promised nap, when I see Winnie’s car, heading out of town on Route 50.
The ground shifts beneath me and my pulse ceases.
Is she leaving? Running? Did last night scare her off completely?
I watch her taillights disappear around a bend, and for a moment, I’m paralyzed by the fear that I’ve lost her before I even really had her.