I do my best to remain stern-faced. And you know,commanding. When I was a new firefighter, I had all kinds of questions. My commanders put me on all the shit jobs to wear me down - like washing dishes, running with heavy ladders, and shoveling shit. It didn’t stop the curiosity, though. I wanted to know everything about fighting fires. I wanted to be the best. And I wasn’t alone.
My probie partner was just as curious. And she earned more than her fair share of dishpan hands because of it.
Camellia.
The thought of her chases away my smile. Why she thought I wouldn’t recognize her two months ago is beyond me. There was a time we spent every waking moment working and hanging out together. I knew her face better than my own. There was a deep connection with her that I had never experienced before - or since.
And the regret tied to my decision to leave burns hotter than an oxyacetylene torch.
“Chief?” Brigit elbows me in the arm.
“Yes?”
“The inspection?”
I nod. Right. The inspection. The whole reason we’re here. I wave toward the station in alet’s get on with itmotion, and she leads the way.
Brigit is a decorated firefighter and a stickler for protocol. It’s why I hired her as Assistant Fire Chief.
I needed someone to keep me on the straight and narrow.
No more bending the rules to see how far they’d stretch.
