Okay. This might be serious. He rarely pulls one of us unless there’s a concern. I run through the last few shifts, trying to pinpoint anything that could have gone awry.
“I’m going to come right out and say this,” Captain says.
My palms feel a little clammy. I rub them down my thighs,trying not to draw attention to the movement.Am I being reprimanded? Fired? Have I done anything out of order?
“A position opened up at the county level. Battalion chief. Sherman Hayes is retiring.”
I nod.Wait. What?
“And I talked it over with Lynsey,” he continues. “I don’t go on many calls with you men as it is, so it’s not like I’m leaving the field to take a step up. As battalion chief, I would have greater influence over the way we handle fires across the county, and more say in personnel, policies … Also, there’s the pension. It’s … well, it’s commensurate with a promotion. We wouldn’t have to move …”
“You’re considering the position?” My brain finally catches up.
“I am. Seriously. And that’s why I pulled you in here. I’ll need someone to take my place as captain. Any of you would do the job well, but I think you have the balance of leadership skills and people skills. Greyson’s too … Well, he’s Greyson. Focused, excellent, thoughtful. But he’s not as connected in the way you are. And Patrick’s a strong candidate, but he’s already juggling the podcast and his role here. Not that you don’t juggle two worlds, but you do it in a way that doesn’t seem burdened or overwhelmed. And Dustin’s still our rookie. He’s great. Down the road I think he’ll find himself rising to greater responsibility, but he’s still new.”
“So you want me …” My voice trails off.
“I want you to consider applying for the captain position. I won’t be the one doing the hiring of my own replacement, but I’ll have a strong say in the selection.”
I nod. “I’ll give it some serious thought.”
“I’m going to mention it to the other guys, to be fair about this. But I want you to know I’ve given this a lot of consideration and I think you’d be the ideal candidate. You’vebeen riding in the officer seat for years now. That position makes you naturally the next in line.”
“We don’t always function that way,” I say, honestly.
“The guys respect you, Cody. And they relate to you. That’s a winning combination. All of you are strong in your own ways, but the balance between heart and decisiveness makes you a solid choice.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Well, think it over.”
“I will.”
“And keep this conversation between the two of us.”
I nod again, pushing my chair out and standing. Something heavy settles under my ribs—the kind of weight that comes with choosing a future I haven’t fully sorted out and didn’t expect to have to so abruptly.
When I walk back into the bay, the guys are working through SCBA checks. I keep my expression neutral when a few heads lift before putting on a smile and joining Greyson. I pop open the compartment next to the one he’s inspecting and busy myself checking the saws and axes inside.
The rest of our shift, my mind circles around the conversation with Captain. I’ve barely allowed myself to consider a promotion. This opportunity won’t come around again for years—if even in my lifetime.Captain. That’s a future a man could hang his hat on. Something steady—the kind of life worth sharing if the right woman came along.
I keep my word to Captain, not mentioning anything to the three men who are as good as brothers to me. It’s odd keeping a secret from them, though I live with my unspoken feelings for Carli. That’s a secret I’ve grown comfortable around, like vines on an old wall. This feels fresh—almostlike a betrayal, even though my consideration is focused on them.
I drive down the familiar roads toward our ranch after shift change. Early morning light bathes the fields in long, crisp shadows.
When I pull into the driveway, her familiar red truck pulls in behind me. I grip the steering wheel, glancing into the rearview, breath stalling for a beat.
I hop out, waving. “Mornin’, Carli.”
“Hey,” she says, leaning into the back seat to grab something.
Her blonde curls are down, unbraided in a rare display. She pops the truck door shut with her hips, holding the pan with both hands.
“What ya got there?” I ask, sauntering over to her like a man approaching a fire.
She moves across our property as if she lives here. Her eyes crinkle at the edges with a smile. The sun’s early rays cast a glow across Carli as if my sister set up the lighting for one of her photo shoots.
“Biscuits. Warm from the oven.”
