CHAPTER 16
Ethan
The firehouse always smells the same in the mornings: coffee, engine grease, and that lingering hint of last night’s smoke clinging to the gear racks. It’s familiar, grounding. A place where everything makes sense.
Unlike the mess in my chest every time I think of Summer.
Calvin stands at the stove next to Asher, the two of them making eggs and bacon as if they haven’t nearly set the firehouse kitchen ablaze a dozen times before. I’m setting the table, dropping forks and plates into place as the sun creeps through the bay windows.
We’ve got day shift today. Twelve hours. Good. I need the distraction.
“So…” Calvin wiggles his eyebrows at Asher. “Is Leona the one?”
Asher snorts, stirring the eggs like they offended him. “I don’t believe in that shit.”
Typical Asher, emotionally constipated unless he’s threatening someone.
“I mean, she’s beautiful, but…” Calvin glances at me with a smirk.
“But what?” Asher shuts off the stove and turns with the pan.
“Well, she’s one hundred percent city,” Calvin says, “and you’re as country as they come. Where would you even live?”
“I never said I’d move in with her, idiot.” Asher plates the eggs. “Leona knows how it is. We’re just having fun. I don’t plan on ever settling down with a wife. Unlike Ethan over there.”
He jerks his chin toward me.
“Oh, hell no, don’t turn this on me.” I lift my hands in surrender. “I don’t think Summer looks at me that way anyway…”
The words taste bitter.
Because they’re not true.
Or maybe they are. I don’t know anymore.
This last week I’ve done everything I can to stay away from her, picked up extra shifts, helped Jude with Kettle, avoided my parents’ ranch like the plague. It’s not because I don’t want to see her. God, I miss her. And I’ve never even tasted those sweet cherry lips of hers.
I just need time. Time to be able to look at her and pretend to be the friend she said she wants.
“I thought she liked you,” Calvin says, pouring himself coffee. “Hell, she was staring at you the whole time yesterday at the bar.”
I shrug, trying to shake off the ache in my chest. “Made it clear she just wants to be friends. I’ll respect that.”
Calvin shakes his head. “That look she gave you wasn’t the look a friend gives another friend.”
I shut it down with a firm shake of my head. I’m not letting myself hope again. Not when those words, just a friend, are still bruising me from the inside out.
“What about Grace?” Asher changes the subject, and for once I’m grateful.
“What about her?” I sit at the table.
“Still dating that douchebag?” he asks, a little too angrily.
“It annoys the hell out of me,” I admit, “but he makes her happy.”
“You’re just going to let him date her?” Asher crosses his arms like he’s about to fight me.
“Yes.” I give him a look. “I know you see her as a little sister, but he’s a good kid.
Opens doors for her, buys her flowers. Hell, he even took her to one of those romantic chick flicks.
” I roll my eyes. “As long as he treats her right, I’ll leave them alone.
But the second he screws up, he’ll regret it. ”
Asher doesn’t say anything, jaw tight. Before I can ask why he’s so protective, Matt, one of our newer guys, pipes up.
“You talking about your baby sister? Grace?”
I look at him.
“She’s gorgeous,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
The table stills, everyone going quiet. Even the clock seems to stop ticking.
Matt looks around. “What?”
I’m about to tell him exactly what I’ll do to him if he ever looks at Grace that way again when Asher beats me to it.
“If you ever so much as look at her again like that, I’ll carve your eyes out with a rusted old spoon,” Asher says calmly. “And then I’ll give your balls the same treatment.”
Matt blanches, raising both hands. “Sorry, man, just appreciating true southern beauty. I mean, at karaoke she…”
“Don’t,” Asher and I growl at the same time.
“Stupid,” Calvin mutters.
The rest of the crew snickers.
“Carson,” I say, calling Matt by his last name. “The truck needs to be scrubbed and washed.”
His mouth drops. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m the captain, and I just gave you an order.” I smirk as the table cracks up.
I glance at Asher, expecting him to laugh too, but his jaw is still tight, eyes stormy. Before I can ask what the hell is up with him, the alarm erupts through the station.
Shrill. Sharp. Heart-stopping.
Everyone freezes for half a breath, instincts snapping into place.
A wildfire.
Up the mountain.
Multiple calls already coming in.
“Move!” I shout, and the crew leaps up, chairs screeching back.
The engines scream out of the station with us strapped into our gear, radios crackling, adrenaline pulsing like its own heartbeat.
Three stations are being dispatched. That alone tells me this isn’t small.
The dispatcher’s voice comes through: high winds, fire spreading fast, evacuations underway, report of missing hikers, elderly couple.
“Of course,” Asher mutters. “Always when there’s a damn wind advisory.”
My jaw clenches. “Stay focused.”
As we climb toward the tree line, the sky changes, gray to orange, orange to blazing red. Smoke rolls like a living thing, swallowing the mountain whole. Embers whip across the asphalt like fireflies from hell.
And then we see it.
A wall of fire ripping through the forest, roaring loud enough to drown our engines.
“Jesus,” Calvin whispers.
Asher’s eyes harden. “Let’s go.”
We jump out, boots hitting gravel. The heat slams into us instantly, a wave that could blister skin even through gear.
“Form a line!” I shout. “Protect the houses on the east ridge until backup arrives!”
Orders fly. Hoses uncoil. The pump roars to life.
Flames crack and snarl. Trees explode, literal explosions, when the sap gets too hot.
But we push.
We always push.
Minutes stretch into an hour. Sweat stings my eyes, ash clings to my throat, and the fire only grows angrier, the wind feeding it like gasoline.
Then my radio screeches.
“Captain Hawthorne, Search and Rescue reporting missing civilians. Older couple. Last seen near the old logging trail. Coordinates incoming.”
Dammit.
“Asher! Calvin! You’re with me!” I yell. “We’re going in!”
No hesitation. They fall into step behind me as we push deeper into the smoke.
Visibility drops to feet, mere feet. The smoke is thick enough to chew. My lungs burn with every breath.
We call out, we sweep the area, and finally, a voice. Weak. Coughing.
We race toward it and find them, older man and woman huddled together, terrified, smoke-blackened.
“We’ve got you,” I say, steady, even though my pulse is a jackhammer.
We haul them to their feet, supporting their weight, guiding them out…
But then the wind shifts.
And the fire moves.
Fast.
Too fast.
“Asher, move!” I shout.
He shoves the woman into Calvin’s arms. “Go! I’ve got him!”
We sprint, dragging the couple with us, but the fire races through the canopy faster than any of us expect…
CRACK.
A sound like thunder splitting the mountain open.
I whip my head just as a burning tree, massive, leans, creaking, groaning.
“No, no, Asher, move!” I scream.
He tries. God, he tries.
But gravity is faster.
The tree collapses with a roar.
I shove the older man forward and sprint toward Asher, reaching out, lungs burning.
Then the world explodes in fire and noise as the tree slams down on both of us.
Pain detonates across my side, my shoulder, my ribs. The ground knocks the breath out of me.
My helmet cracks against a rock. Heat sears my skin through the gear.
I hear the radios screaming, voices calling our names, panic ripping through the frequency.
“Asher!” I rasp, but smoke pours into my throat, choking the words.
He’s not moving.
He’s pinned under the bigger part of the trunk.
A deep, primal fear claws up my spine.
I can’t move. I can’t reach him.
We’re both trapped.
The fire is coming.
The heat is rising.
And all I can think is…
Summer.