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I walked away before I did something stupid, like reach for the crayon behind her ear and tuck it into my pocket just to have something of hers to carry.

Ben caught up with me in the hall, eyes dancing. “Sir, I can get you a whole box of crayons.”

“Go stage Crew Two,” I snapped.

His gaze sharpened. “On it.”

Outside, the sky darkened one degree deeper. The ridge held its line like it was daring us to blink. I didn’t. I had a town to keep whole and a crew to bring home. The rest could wait.

But when I closed the office door for the briefing, my attention was partially on the woman out in the bay.

7

Cameron

The firehouse had quieted into the restless kind of silence that comes with tense waiting. Families slept in fits, curled on cots or stretched across folding chairs. Kids sprawled under the kid’s table on preschool mats, crayons scattered like confetti, their soft snores blending with the hum of the vending machine.

I stayed near the bay doors, nursing a cup of lukewarm tea. Outside, the ridge glowed a dull, angry red. Every so often, the wind shifted, carrying smoke sharp enough to sting my eyes.

I told myself I was watching the fire, same as anyone. But the truth sat heavy in my chest. Jack Butler was out there. He’d gone out with the team when the fire had flared. I’d known the man for a few hours, literally, so it was a little ridiculous how concerned I was.

But I was.

Every rumble of an engine in the distance made me sit straighter. Every crackle on the radio shortened my breath. I tried to distract myself—refilling coffee cups, tucking blankets around shoulders, helping a mother rock her baby—but my ears strained for the sound of trucks pulling in.

Remy climbed into the chair beside me, stuffed rabbit clutched tight against her. “Is Chief Butler gonna be okay?” she whispered.

I forced my smile steady. “Of course he will. He’s strong. He knows what he’s doing.”

“And my daddy?”

Remy’s daddy Lane was a deputy sheriff. He was out there as well, evacuating people and who knew what else. “Your daddy is very strong too. I think they’ll both be fine.”

“You promise?”

I hesitated, because I knew Remy’s mother was gone. Lost in a horrible crash off a mountain pass, according to one of my fellow teachers at school. “I truly believe they will come back.”

I think she believed me, though her pretty cornflower blue eyes seemed skeptical. I wished I believed myself.

“I wish he was here.”

“I know you do, baby.”

The night stretched long, minutes dragging like hours. My body moved on instinct, keeping busy, but my mind was fixed on the ridge. On him. On them. The entire crew was up there battling the fire.

Then they got word that the fire was backing down, easing away from the town. Eagleheart FD, as well as the departments from the surrounding counties, had beat it back.

When the rumble of trucks finally came, deep and rumbling, the entire room stirred. People sat up, rubbed eyes, whispered. The bay doors rolled open and headlights cut through the darkness, parking just outside. There was no room for them inside the firehouse.

Trucks, streaked black with ash, parked. Tired men and women climbed out one by one. Then a red pickup rolled into view, and my heart slammed hard against my ribs.

Behind me, someone started to clap. Then the entire crowd was clapping for the returning warriors. Before my eyes, the sagging men and women perked up as they were recognized.

Jack stepped down from his truck, movements heavy, soot streaking his face. He looked like the fire had tried to claim him and failed, but just barely. He watched his crew head into the bay to the applause, and he smiled slightly.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

I met him halfway across the parking lot, water bottle in hand. “Here,” I said, pressing it into his palm. Our fingers brushed, and heat shot through me. “Drink.”