We burst into the cold morning air, and I’ve never been more grateful for the sting of it in my lungs. Paramedics rush forward to take the guard. I collapse onto the bumper of our engine, legs suddenly unreliable.
Austin drops down beside me, pulling off his mask. His face is covered in soot, making his teeth look unnaturally white when he grins. “Well, that was fun.”
“Your definition of fun is concerning.”
“Says Maverick … the guy who chose this job.”
I let out a long breath.
He nudges my shoulder. “You good?”
I stare at my hands—scarred, dirty, the hands of a firefighter. The hands of my father’s son. “I was thinking about her in there.”
“Of course you were.”
“How do you know?”
He heaves a sigh. “Because I do. When you let yourself … you know … about someone, when you’re in situations like that, it’s like you see your whole life flash before your eyes and realize half of it is missing.”
I huff a laugh that might sound slightly hysterical, surprised to be having a conversation like that with Austin James Bond, King Bachelor, of all people. Through the haze in my mind, I vaguely wonder if that means Austin loves someone? Thinking back to the Fireman’s Ball, he brought his best friend. But he said they’rejustfriends. Made a big deal about it, actually.
He chuckles. “It’s been like a wild animal nature show watching you fall in love for three months.”
“That obvious?”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Yeah, brother. That obvious.”
The sun paints the smoke-filled sky in bold strokes of persimmon and cornflower. It’s beautiful, despite the destruction at my back. Beauty and danger, all mixed together.
Like loving Winnie.
“I now get why my mom chose him, even knowing the risks. She knew what could happen every time he left. But she loved him anyway because—” I stop, searching for the words. “Because loving someone isn’t about knowing how it could end.”
“Maverick, that’s deep for seven a.m.”
“It’s almost eight.”
“Still early for philosophy.” Austin stands, stretching. “But you’re right. And for what it’s worth? Winnie knows the risks, too. She’s choosing you, anyway.”
I pull out my phone with shaking hands and send her a message.
Me: We were called to another bad fire.
Her reply is instant, as if she’d been waiting to hear from me.
Winnie: Are you okay?
Me: I’m fine. Everyone is safe. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
The typing bubbles appear and disappear multiple times before her response comes through.
Winnie: Maybe we can get together today and talk. No pressure, though.
Me: I want to talk to you more than anything. But I need some rest and not smell like I lost a fight with a bonfire first.
Winnie: You could never smell bad.
Me: Did I read that right or am I experiencing the effects of an adrenaline crash and sleep deprivation?
