The alarm sounds before I can spiral further, a medical call, a possible cardiac event, two blocks from the station.
We move.
The call turns out to be a panic attack, not a heart attack. The elderly man grew scared when his chest tightened. We calm him down, check his vitals, and transport him to the hospital for observation.
By the time we get back, it’s nearly evening. My shift ends in an hour.
Jake’s truck pulls into the parking lot as I’m logging the call. He climbs out looking tired, hair sticking up like he’s been running his hands through it.
“Hey.” He nods at me. “You got a minute?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Harvest Moon Festival tomorrow night. You coming?”
I blink at the subject change. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Well, plan on it now.” Jake crosses his arms. “Rachel needs to get out of the house. She’s been staring at job listings and spiraling since the fire. I’m bringing her and Tommy, and I need backup.”
“Backup for what?”
“For making sure she has a decent evening instead of just pretending to. You know how she is. She’ll smile and say she’s fine and then go home and stress about everything.” He looks at me directly. “I’m asking as a friend. Come to the festival. Help me keep her distracted.”
The smart answer is no. The smart answer is to create distance, to stop noticing, to let Jake handle his sister without my complicated feelings getting in the way.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks. Seven o’clock. Main entrance.” He heads back to his truck, then pauses. “And Theo? Just… be normal around her, okay? She’s dealing with enough without people treating her like she’s fragile.”
“I’m always normal.”
He snorts. “You’re never normal. But try anyway.”
After he leaves, I stand in the parking lot trying to figure out what just happened. Jake asked me to come to the festival. To help keep Rachel distracted. To be around her.
It is either the best or the worst possible scenario.
I think about the restaurant while I’m showering after my shift. Can’t help it. Money stress always brings it back.
Three of us opened that place together. Daniel, Christian, and I were college friends who wanted to build something. We pooled everything we had, took out loans, and found the perfect location in Portland.
Theo’s Table. My name is on the sign. My recipes are on the menu. My trust in people who didn’t deserve it.
They started skimming six months in. Small amounts at first. Stuff I didn’t notice because I was too busy running the restaurant, perfecting dishes, and managing staff. By the time I caught on, they’d drained the accounts and disappeared with over a hundred thousand dollars.
My hundred thousand dollars.
The loans were in my name. The lease was in my name. Everything fell on me when they vanished.
I spent two years drowning in that debt and working three jobs, selling everything I owned, barely sleeping. The restaurantclosed within a year. My credit tanked. My belief in people died somewhere around month eighteen.
That’s when I saw the firefighter recruitment poster, standing outside a bank that just denied my loan extension request, staring at this image of people who saved lives instead of ruining them.
It felt like a sign.
Or maybe I was just desperate for something that mattered. Something where success meant keeping people alive instead of keeping spreadsheets balanced.
Either way, I joined. Moved back to Millbrook Falls, where the rent was cheaper, and my grandmother could feed me when money got tight. Spent three years training and working and slowly, painfully, paying off every cent I owed.
