chapter
twenty
I wokeup to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of Izzy's voice drifting from the kitchen, sharp with exasperation and tinged with the kind of fondness that only came from dealing with people you'd trust with your life but wouldn't trust to plan a grocery list.
"No, Thompson, we arenothaving 'leftover chili dogs' again tomorrow night," she was saying into her phone, already dressed in her uniform pants and department t-shirt. "That's a health code violation, not a meal... Yes, I know you like it. You also like wrestling, that doesn't make it a good idea."
I smiled, staying quiet in the doorway to watch her. Three weeks into whatever this was between us, and I was still getting used to the small intimacies — the way she looked completely at home in my kitchen, how she'd claimed the left side of my bed without discussion, the spare hoodie draped over my reading chair like it belonged there. She was getting ready for her forty-eight-hour shift, making coffee for both of us with the automatic efficiency of someone who'd done this routine many times before.
"Martinez, you're supposed to be the responsible one," she continued, and I could hear the eye-roll in her voice. "Don'tencourage him... Because we're not nineteen anymore, that's why."
The station clearly had strong opinions about dinner plans. I'd heard enough stories over the past few weeks to know that Station 2's B-shift took their meals seriously — it was one of the ways they bonded, took care of each other, maintained the family atmosphere that made them so tight-knit. But apparently, left to their own devices, they defaulted to the culinary sophistication of college freshmen.
"Look, just... don't buy anything yet, okay? I'll figure something out." She hung up and turned around, startling slightly when she saw me. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to hear about the chili dog situation," I said, stepping closer and slipping my arms around her waist. "Do youhaveto go to work today?" I pulled her against me, letting my hands slide down to squeeze her ass. "I have some things I want to do with you."
She laughed, rising up on her toes to kiss me softly. "Soon enough, loverboy. I've got forty-eight hours to get through first."
"That's too long," I murmured against her lips.
"It'll go fast. And then I'll have four days off." She handed me the coffee she'd poured, perfect temperature, just enough cream. "Thompson thinks leftover chili dogs count as a planned meal for tomorrow night. Martinez is encouraging him because he thinks it's funny. Benny's staying out of it because he's smart, and the truck guys are probably going to order pizza and laugh at us." She shook her head, but her expression was fond. "They're like children. Incredibly competent, life-saving children who can dismantle a car engine but can't plan a balanced meal."
An idea began forming in my mind — the kind of idea that felt both generous and slightly terrifying. I watched Izzy's face, noting the way she worried about her crew, howtheir well-being was always on her mind even during her time off.
"You know," I said carefully, "I could cook for you guys tomorrow night. For the whole shift."
She paused with her coffee mug halfway to her lips, then laughed — a short, surprised sound. "Ha! That's funny. Wait..." She looked at me more closely, her expression shifting from amusement to something like amazement. "Oh my God, you're serious."
I could practically see the wheels turning in her head, the tactical part of her brain clicking into gear. This wasn't just her boyfriend offering to cook dinner. This was strategic. She knew what my food could do to people — she'd experienced it herself. And I'd already proven myself with Cap, shown that I understood how to treat the people who mattered to her.
"Dead serious," I said. "I want to meet them properly anyway. And I can guarantee it'll be better than leftover chili dogs. Plus, I've got all day to prep while you're working."
Her smile was brilliant, the kind that made my chest tight with something I was still getting used to feeling. "Jimmy, that's... that's actually brilliant. They're going to love you. Like, immediately and completely love you."
"That's the plan."
She set down her coffee and stepped closer, reaching up to cup my face in her hands. "You know that the way to a firefighter's heart is through their stomach, right? And that these guys would literally adopt you if you feed them well?"
"I was hoping for that reaction."
She kissed me then, soft and grateful and just a little bit amazed, like she couldn't quite believe I was real. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with something that looked like pride.
"Tomorrow night then," she said. "I'll let them know." She grabbed her keys and gear bag, pausing at the door. "I’ll let the crew know they can invite a plus one, if that’s okay?"
“Absolutely,” I confirmed, “the more, the merrier.”
The next evening, I was standing in the parking lot of Station 2, my arms full of grocery bags and prep containers, wondering if I'd lost my mind. I'd spent the entire day shopping and prepping. The building was imposing in the early evening light — all red brick and bay doors, with massive fire trucks visible through the open apparatus bays. The scale of everything was bigger than I'd expected, more industrial, designed for serious business.
This wasn't just meeting the girlfriend's friends. This was auditioning for her family.
Izzy appeared from a side door, already in her uniform — dark navy pants and a department t-shirt that somehow made her look both professional and completely gorgeous. She grinned when she saw me struggling with my load.
"Need help?"
"I think I've got it," I said, then reconsidered as one of the bags started to slip. "Actually, yes."
She took half my burden, and together we walked through a side entrance into what was clearly the heart of the station. The day room was exactly what I'd imagined — large and comfortable, with a kitchen that opened onto a dining area, worn but well-maintained furniture, and a massive TV currently showing some kind of tactical training video with the sound off.
