This is the best summer of my life.
If you don’t count the fact that my boyfriend, Eric is always gone.
But he does calls me every morning at seven on the dot.
I’m usually standing in line for coffee, keys looped around my wrist, purse already heavy with the day ahead. He’s just getting off shift—voice rough, tired in that bone-deep way that smells like smoke even through the phone.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, every time, like it’s a promise.
“Hey, babe,” I say back, smiling into my cup.
We talk in fragments. Half-sentences. Weather. Groceries. What we’re doing later—except “later” never lines up.
When he’s waking up, I’m clocking in.
When I’m done for the day, he’s showering and pulling on his uniform.
When he finally has time, I’m already in bed.
Star-crossed lovers, but make it municipal.
We steal time where we can.
Burgers and fries at the diner down the street from the firehouse. Him still smelling like soap and metal. Me still in heels, kicking them off under the table. He eats fast, checks his watch too often. I tell him about work—about deadlines and decks and the new hire who can’t format a spreadsheet to save her life.
Sometimes I surprise him.
I used to.
I’d bring coffee. Pastries. I’d pop in during shift change before I head into work.
But the past few months—I’d stay out with my coworkers and sleep in after and later… maybe it was my fault. Maybe I am the one letting this romance slip by.
“Time to rekindle, things, Beth.”
I had slept here—planned on seducing him for a quick, hot, shower sex session. To remind him I was still his girl.
I woke up before my alarm, the dark still thick against the windows. Made sure my legs were still smooth, Wore silky shorts and just a bra.
Sean’s apartment was quiet in that hollow way it always was when he was on night shift. His side of the bed was cold, sheets barely wrinkled, we barely sleep together anymore. I lay still for a moment, listening—traffic far below, a distant siren fading somewhere across the city—then rolled out of bed and started getting ready for work.
This was our rhythm now.
I turned.
Sean stood in the doorway, jacket slung over his shoulder, helmet tucked under his arm. He looked exhausted—eyesrimmed red, jaw unshaven, that familiar slump in his posture that meant it had been a long night.
“Hey,” I said softly. Propping on an elbow to give him a glimpse of me posing in his bed.
“Hey.” His voice was rough, like he’d been breathing smoke instead of air. His eyes didn’t even widen at the sight of me almost naked.
I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around him. He smelled like the firehouse—soap and metal and something burned away but never quite gone. His arms barely came around me.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just beat.”
I glanced at the clock. I was already cutting it close. “I’ve gotta run. But—” I could stay for a quick shower?” I whispered huskily. I went to press a kiss to his lips but he stepped back.
