He grunts in agreement, still typing. “How’s your grandma?”
“Same as always. Demanding great-grandchildren and questioning all my life choices.”
“Sounds about right.” Cole finally looks up. “You good for the overnight shift next week? Henderson called in sick again.”
“Yeah, I can cover.” I grab a chair and drop into it. “Have you talked to Jake recently?”
“Yesterday. Why?”
“Just wondering how his sister’s doing. That was a close call the other day.”
Cole’s expression doesn’t change, but his fingers pause on the keyboard for just a second. “She’s fine. Shaken up, but physically okay.”
“Good. That’s good.” I should drop it. Should change the subject to anything else. “The kid, too?”
“Tommy is resilient. Already back to normal, according to Jake.” Cole returns to his screen. “Why the sudden interest?”
“No reason. Just the usual post-rescue follow-up concern.”
He makes a noncommittal sound that could mean anything.
I leave before I say something stupid. Before I admit that I’ve been replaying that rescue in my head for two days. Not just the professional parts—the technique, the timing, the successful extraction. But the other parts. The personal parts.
The way Rachel looked at me when I handed Tommy to the paramedics. The relief and gratitude and something else I couldn’t quite name. The way Tommy’s small arms wrapped around my neck, trusting me completely.
The way I caught myself thinking about what it would be like if they were mine to protect, not just for one emergency, but all the time.
I head to the equipment bay and start my shift checks. Hoses, nozzles, and breathing apparatus. Everything methodical and familiar. The kind of work that usually clears my head.
It doesn’t work today.
The rescue keeps replaying.
I’m restocking the ambulance when it hits me again—Tommy’s weight in my arms, his small body shaking with coughs, his terrified eyes looking up at me through the oxygen mask. The absolute trust that I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
“You’re thinking about the Morgan kid.” Garcia appears beside me with fresh supplies. “You’ve been staring at that same box of gauze for five minutes.”
“Just making sure we have enough.”
“We always have enough. You’re the most organized person on this crew.” She dumps her armload into the ambulance. “Thekid’s fine, by the way. I checked with the hospital yesterday. No smoke inhalation damage, no injuries.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“His mom, too. Rachel. She’s okay.” Garcia studies me. “You know them personally. Through Jake?”
“Yeah. I’ve known Jake since we were kids. Rachel, too, I guess. Though she moved away for a while.” I stack the remaining supplies with more force than necessary. “Just glad they both made it out.”
Garcia nods and moves on to other tasks, leaving me alone with thoughts I shouldn’t be having.
The thing is, I haven’t just known Rachel since she was a kid. I’ve known her since she came back to town three months ago, a completely different person than the awkward teenager I remembered. A woman with her own life, her own struggles, her own kid to raise.
And I’ve been noticing.
Not in any way I’d admit out loud. Not in any way that crosses lines. Just… noticing. The way she’s patient with Tommy, even when he’s testing every boundary. The way she showed up at that café every day and worked twice as hard as she needed to because that’s who she is.
I noticed. And then I carried her son out of a burning building, and that noticing turned into something bigger. Something I have no right to feel.
Because she’s Jake’s sister. Because she just escaped a bad relationship. Because I’m supposed to be his friend, not the guy thinking about his sister like this.
