Jimmy
On my way. Don't let Thompson eat all the burgers before I get there.
I smiled, typing back.
No promises. He’s in a mood. Just lost ten bucks to Martinez.
Jimmy
Savage. See you in five. I love you.
I love you, too.
The words felt as natural as breathing now. After our reconciliation, after we had painstakingly pieced our relationship back together, we had found a new rhythm. Jimmy had made a huge change, switching to the chaotic 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. midshift in the ER. It was a brutal schedule — five days a week, right in the thick of the hospital’s busiest hours. But the ER scheduler, grateful for his willingness to take on the difficult shift, had given him a set schedule where his days off now perfectly aligned with my “off” days. It was a quiet, profound sacrifice on his part, a daily testament to his commitment. It meant we had real time together, time to build a life.
The side door to the bay opened, and Jack and Sophia walked in, Jack carrying a cooler.
“Reinforcements have arrived,” Jack announced, his Kiwi accent echoing in the cavernous space.
“Just in time,” I said. “Thompson was about to start grilling the hot dogs from last week.”
Sophia laughed, giving me a hug. “Never change, B-shift. Never change.”
Our little family had grown, the lines between the station and the hospital blurring into a comfortable, easy community. I saw Jack and Sophia almost as much as I saw my own crew.
Then the door opened again. And my smile faltered in pure, unadulterated shock.
Kellen, the stoic, burnt-out charge nurse from Jimmy's night shift, was standing there, looking deeply uncomfortable but undeniably present. He was holding what looked like a store-bought potato salad.
My brain stalled. Kellen? Here? At a firehouse BBQ? It didn’t compute.
“Kellen,” Sophia said, her voice warm and welcoming as she went to greet him. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
He just gave a curt nod, his eyes scanning the bay like a man assessing a disaster scene. What in the world was he doing here?
My eyes darted around the station. My whole crew was here. Jack and Sophia. Now Kellen. Something was happening. This wasn't just a BBQ.
But before I could fully process why, something small and white and fluffy came bounding across the apparatus bay floor, trailing what looked like a red ribbon.
A puppy. A small white and tan cocker spaniel puppy with enormous brown eyes and ears that were too big for its head. It was wearing a tiny red collar with something attached to it, and it was headed straight for me with the kind of unbridled enthusiasm that only puppies could manage.
"Oh my God!" I breathed, automatically dropping to my knees as the little furball launched itself into my arms. "Whose dog is this? What is — "
And that's when I saw Jimmy.
He was emerging from behind Truck 12, looking nervous and excited and absolutely terrified all at the same time. He was wearing his good jeans and the blue button-down I'd bought him for his birthday, and he was carrying a small velvet box in his hands.
Time slowed down like it does in those movies where the hero suddenly realizes the guy walking toward them is an assassin, except instead of mortal danger, my brain was processing something infinitely more earth-shattering.
The puppy. The entire crew from both stations. Sophia and Kellen from his work. Jimmy in his good clothes with a … ring box.
"Oh my God," I said again, this time with a completely different inflection. "OH MY GOD."
Jimmy was walking toward me now, and I could see the exact moment when his nervousness transformed into that quiet confidence I'd fallen in love with. The puppy in my arms was wiggling with excitement, and I could feel something attached to its collar — a small tag that I was too stunned to read.
"Hi, beautiful," Jimmy said, stopping a few feet away from where I was still kneeling on the apparatus bay floor with a puppy in my lap. "How was your shift?"
"Jimmy," I managed, my voice coming out as barely a whisper. "What is... who is... what's happening?"
