“Soon,” he encourages. Gio is one of the few guys I work with who I opened up to about what happened when I was in the military. He knows exactly how damaging that betrayal has been for me, how it’s impacted my life to this day.
I open my mouth to smart off something, but the sound of the alarm cuts off anything I was about to say. Dropping the towel on the counter, we both take off, moving quickly to the apparatus room. Everyone runs in, grabbing their stuff from the gear wall and swiftly putting it all on.
Reports are coming in as we all board the trucks, ready to provide aid at a tire warehouse fire in the neighboring district. As we pull out of the station, sirens blaring, I push all thoughts of Lizzie, and the conversation we need to have, out of my head. Right now, I need to focus on what’s ahead of me, so we all return back to the station safely at the end of the call.
It’s the middle of the night when we pull back into the station. We’re all dragging ass, dog tired, but unfortunately, the work isn’t done. We need to restock supplies, inspect all gear and apparatuses, and conduct vehicle checks. An entire list of tasks needs to be completed before our asses hit the showers or our heads the pillows. The last thing you’d want is for us to not do what is needed and get a call because we were too tired to do it when we got back. Lives are at stake, and every second counts when a call comes in.
The captain calls out orders, and everyone gets to work. I’m in charge of making sure supplies are restocked, including much-needed medical items and water. When I’ve completed my list, I grab a bucket and hose and prepare to wash the rig. When we return to the firehouse, we always wash the trucks. They’re covered in soot, smoke, and potential contaminants, which can be harmful to all of us.
Finally, after the trucks have been put back together, cleaned, and we’re ready to roll out for the next call, we all head off to the living quarters. A few head straight for the kitchen, needing some nutrients, while most of the rest of us go straight to the showers. By the time I grab a clean pair of sweats and a T-shirt, there’s a line, but I don’t care. I’ll wait as long as it takes.
As I stand in the hall with a handful of other firemen, I pull out my phone and check messages. I have six, but it’s Lizzie’s that I tap on first.
Lizzie
I assume the radio silence means you got a call. Stay safe. Let me know when you’re back.
Even though it’s just after three, I decide to go ahead and fire off a reply so I don’t worry her. Hopefully she’s sleeping and the chime of her phone won’t wake her.
Me
Hope this doesn’t wake you, but I wanted you to know I’m back at the station. Bad fire. Everyone’s safe. Showering and crashing.
When I don’t get a reply after a minute, I slip my phone back into my pocket, thankful she’s still asleep. The line for the showers doesn’t take long, thanks to six stalls inside the big communal bathroom, and before I know it, I’m able to finally grab my shower caddy and wash the scent of burnt rubber and charred wood off my skin.
After sliding into my bunk, exhaustion hits me hard. I remember to plug my phone in moments before I close my eyes. The last thing to go through my mind is the image of Lizzie, windblown and smiling from our four-wheeling ride on Sunday.
Damn, I can’t wait to do that again.
Soon.
“Sleepy head, you have a visitor.”
I crack my eyes open and find Gio’s ugly mug smiling at me through the darkened room. “What time is it?”
“Almost eight,” he replies. “Captain wants us all up and eating by nine. We got that first grade class coming in for a tour before lunch.”
I groan, not because of the class tour, but simply because my body is still desperate for a little sleep. I’m used to this. For forty-eight hours, we push past the exhaustion and get the job done. We sleep when we’re off duty, plain and simple.
But now I can prepare for the tour. This is one of my favorite parts of the job: the community engagement. Not the adults. Adults suck. But kids? They’re fucking great. At that age, everyone wants to be a fireman or a doctor or a teacher. They want to save the world or make a difference, because that’s who they see around them, always there and ready to help.
I slowly get up and stretch my arms. “Who is it?”
He shrugs. “No clue. I guess a woman was waiting at the door when Bozo came back in from grabbing donuts. Asked for you. Heard she’s hot.”
I sigh, trying to rack my brain over who it could be. I just don’t see my sister, mom, or even Lizzie making the drive up to Sycamore to drop by and say hello, and anyone else I know in Sycamore is basically here already. “Let me get dressed. Give me five,” I reply, grabbing some clothes and heading for the bathroom.
Since we have a tour coming, we’ll be in department issued T-shirts and our work pants, so I quickly dress in what is required for the day. I take care of business, brushing my teeth and washing my face to help wake me up, before throwing on my boots and walking toward the front entrance. We don’t really have a main entrance, per se, but we have the main glass door where visitors can enter when we’re here.
When I round the corner, I take in the tall blonde standing near the wall, looking at the framed photographs of our commanding officers. Her long hair is hanging down her back,and her frame is a tad on the slender side. She’s wearing flip-flops, cutoff shorts, and a tank top, and she’s holding a big white box, similar to one you’d receive from a bakery.
And I have no idea who she is.
“Can I help you?” I ask, taking a few steps forward.
She spins to her left and plasters a huge smile on her face. Her dark eyes are bright, full of excitement, as she gazes up at me like I hung the moon and all the damn stars. “Oh my gosh, hi, Collin! It’s so good to see you again!” she bellows, practically bouncing over to where I stand.
“I’m sorry,” I start, slightly hesitant. “Do I know you?”
