“Open.”
I turn the knob and enter Captain Waverly’s office to find him parked at the edge of his desk reading over some forms in his hands.
“Close the door,” he instructs, not even lifting his eyes from the papers.
Once I do is when he finally lowers the papers and looks up at me. His gaze could be intimidating to someone else. But the man does have my respect.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
I lift an eyebrow. “To be a firefighter.” The tone in my voice comes out snarkier than I’d intended but the answer should be obvious.
Captain Waverly must not think so because his frown deepens.
“You want to be a firefighter, sign up with a department in some podunk town in the backwoods of no-fucking-where. You don’t show up in Williamsport, and not in my goddamned squad, just to be a firefighter. You’re here to be a damned soldier,” he states adamantly.
I like this guy already.
“Now, do you know why you’re here?”
“I’m here because one of your soldiers lost their leg on a rescue.”
His lips pinch. The distress on his face becomes apparent.
“Corey.”
I nod. “Corey.”
“Some of my guys aren’t going to like you right off the back. You’re here to replace one of their brothers. A guy they pulled out of the fire. They saved his life but he hasn’t been to this station in over two months. His presence is missed every day.”
There’s a long pause. I don’t have anything to say to that, nor does the captain actually want me to respond. The purpose of this conversation isn’t to feel me out. It’s to inform me of what I’m walking into.
“I’m not here to replace anyone,” I finally reply. “I’m here to do my job. To be a soldier as a member of the best squad in the Williamsport Fire Department.”
His lower jaw works as he stares at me, digesting what I’d just said. “Words are meaningless.”
“Don’t I fucking know it.”
He pauses again. “Captain Rogers warned me about you. He didn’t like you very much.”
I clamp down on the urge to tell him Captain Rogers was a fucking joke for a captain.
“He said you were loose cannon.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I casually remark.
“Don’t.” He eyes me. “He didn’t mean it as one,” he adds.
I nod. “All due respect, Captain Waverly, but my former captain and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”
“I can tell.”
“And that may have had an impact on how he and I viewed my performance, but I’m a damned good—”
“Firefighter,” he finishes for me. “I’m well aware of that. I’ve checked your file.” He holds up the papers in his hands. “I know what you’re about. Congratulations on earning the Thomas Webster.”
My chest tightens. I hate being reminded of that damn award.
“That was a hell of a save.”
