Dark brown, intense, burning with something I can’t name—but feel everywhere.
His gloved hand slips on his radio, almost dropping it. A small clatter echoes across the bay.
The room falls quiet.
Then the whispers start.
“Holy shit…” someone mutters. “That’s Savannah.”
Another voice: “You didn’t tell usthatSavannah was coming.”
Someone else whistles low. “Ramirez looks like he’s seen a ghost.”
Axel doesn’t look away from me.
I don’t look away from him.
My breath stutters, catching in my throat like a fist.
His chest rises—sharp. Like he’s been punched.
Ten years collapse between us in an instant. Every memory slams into me at once:
Running barefoot through his mother’s garden. Sneaking popsicles from his back porch freezer. Him kissing me under the oak tree at sixteen. Smoke. Screams. Flames swallowing the dark. His arms pulling me back. The moment everything ended.
I blink hard.
The firehouse around us blurs for a second. Then snaps back into focus.
Axel still hasn’t moved.
Not a muscle.
Not a breath.
He looks carved from stone—except for the way his eyes tremble in a way he probably thinks nobody can see.
But I see.
Of course I see.
Captain Cole clears his throat loudly. “Ramirez. You good?”
Axel blinks like he’s waking from a dream. His gaze tears away, dragged like it physically hurts him.
“Yeah,” he rasps.
The word is rough. Frayed. Barely there.
My pulse skitters.
He didn’t know I was coming.
I didn’t know he’d be here.
I didn’t know the universe could be this cruel.
Cole gestures me forward. “Brooks, this is Firehouse 19. You’ll be working alongside our primary medical response team. First shift starts now. Ramirez, you’ll be paired on most calls with?—”
