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One of the staff put the big bay door down. The room was stuffy as the AC fought to cool. Giant fans beat overhead, but they didn’t seem to be moving a lot of air. I kept my voice low and even for the people resting and my hands busy. I lined up extra paper cups near the water, refilled the marker bin, re-wrote the QUIET AREA sign in thicker letters so it would be easier for people to find. The elderly man’s oxygen battery blinked green. The cat in the carrier yawned like this was all terribly boring. A toddler fell asleep on the block rug with a blue crayon clutched in his fist.

I checked my phone out of habit, then tucked it away. It didn’t matter what time it was. The night would end when the fire decided to let it. I was tired too, but I was too wired to sleep. I was worried about Jack and the crew, and the uncertainty ahead. Danger was literally looming over our heads.

The night dragged on. Eventually, I settled on my own cot and tried to sleep. It was difficult, though, with this many people in one room. Thoughts of Jack and our interactions bounced back and forth in my mind. He was nothing like my ex. He had baggage, but we all did, and my need to be with him overwhelmed all of that. His scars certainly didn’t turn me off. Quite the opposite, actually. I found the man incredibly appealing.

I must have dozed off because when I woke, people were moving around. It smelled like someone was cooking bacon.

Trying to stretch the kinks out of my back, I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and change my clothes. I would go help with breakfast and maybe get started on lesson plans.

When the bay door opened again a half hour later, hot morning light spilled across the floor, and for a split second the whole room went still as people looked toward the mountain ridge. I looked too. Smoke rose in a thicker line than it had the previous morning. It wasn’t at the edge of town, but it was near enough to taste.

The crew returned minutes later, looking tired and bedraggled. I had learned that they were taking shifts with the other crew across town. Smoke saturated them, following them into the fire house. They headed for the hallway to the showers and their quarters. Jack went as well, giving her a light wave and a tight smile as he disappeared into the depths of the station.

I reached for another stack of napkins and found my hands were more steady. He’d made it back fine. I guess I’d been more worried about him than I’d realized.

Well, I’d do my best to take some stress off his shoulders. I could not fight a fire. I could not draw maps or run a crew. But I could make this place a little kinder and more workable.

I huffed out a breath and got back to it.

6

Jack

Maps don’t burn your hands, but they can make your palms sweat. The big county map was spread over the table with plastic tabs stuck like confetti at ridge lines, creek beds, and two-track access points. The hot wind had whipped up trouble all day. It wanted to push the fire toward pockets of old deadfall that would light fast. We’d thrown everything we had at the flanks and kept aircraft in the air as much as the pilots could manage. It still wasn’t enough to make me comfortable.

“Spot fire reported here,” Captain Taylor said, tapping the map near a thin contour line. “Crew Two is on it, but if it slips the draw, it’ll run straight toward Pine Hollow.”

Pine Hollow. Her road. My jaw set. “Crew Four is staged near Timber Slope. They can pivot if Two needs relief,” I said. “I’ll keep the north side covered with volunteers if we have to move more engines to the line.”

We had two city crews and a larger volunteer county crew spread over the area, giving them four crews total. Almost forty gritty, hardworking men and women. But it still seemed like we were fighting a losing battle.

Ben scribbled notes, radio clipped at his shoulder. He didn’t crack a joke. He knew when to be serious.

I should have been thinking only in fuel loads and slope angles. That’s the job. But every time I looked up from the pins, I caught sight of Cameron’s dark head, usually bending over someone.

She moved like she’d always belonged in a firehouse, even though she didn’t. No one told her where to stand or what to do. If she saw a problem, she moved to fix it. She set up a kids’ corner that kept ten small bodies busy with blocks and crayons. She made signs so people stopped asking the same questions and started getting what they needed without thinking. She found a Red Cross volunteer I hadn’t even noticed and set up a medical corner.

It should have annoyed me—one more variable in a room with too many already—but it didn’t. It settled me. She made the space work.

“Chief.” Ben nudged a case of sports drinks toward me with his boot. “You need to drink something before I tattle to Doc Chambers. He’ll make it weird.”

“I’m fine,” I said, but I grabbed a bottle, anyway. He smirked and sauntered off toward the bay door.

Captain Taylor stepped away to take a call. I moved to the threshold and looked out past the dust covered engine parked in the drive. The sky had gone the color of dirty copper. The ridge glowed hotter. Not at town. Not yet. But creeping closer. It was enough to make the hair on my arms rise.

Voices rolled behind me, and I could hear the tiredness and fear. An evacuee asked where to plug in a phone. Someone laughed softly at a joke I didn’t catch. A toddler let out a short wail that ended in a hiccup. The smell in the bay was coffee over smoke, hand sanitizer under sweat, the faint starchy scent of blankets that had been stored too long.

I turned back in time to see Cameron carry a folding chair to an old man who had refused to sit until a woman half his age told him it would help her if he did. He sat for her. She patted his shoulder and moved on.

Ben slid up beside me again, eyes following her. “You gonna keep pretending you’re not impressed?” he murmured.

“I’m aware of what’s happening in my station,” I said, voice low.

“You should also be aware of what’s happening in your face when you look at her. Or when she looks at you.” He grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll only tell everyone within a five-mile radius.”

“Hydrate,” I said. He saluted with his bottle and disappeared.

I went back to the map because maps don’t look back and make your chest feel tight. Taylor returned, and we reassessed. “If the spot fire holds, we keep the plan,” he said. “If it doesn’t, we should have Crew Four on that draw within ten minutes.”