Liam's voice cut through the fog. I shook my head, forced myself to focus. The drill had moved on without me. Riley was already through the door, Owen on the hose line, and I was standing there like a probie on his first day.
"Sorry." I stepped back into position. "Run it again."
Liam gave me a heavy, knowing look, but didn't say anything. We reset. The probies exchanged glances, the kind that said what the hell is wrong with him, before moving back to their starting positions.
I forced myself to focus. Called out the positions.Tracked the movements. Entry team through the door, search pattern left, ventilation crew on the roof. I made myself say the words, made myself watch the bodies moving through the smoke, made myself be present.
The drill went fine. Textbook, even.
But I knew what had happened, just like everyone else there.
"Mitchell, your entry angle was too wide," I advised as we packed up the equipment. "You're exposing yourself to the fire room before you've cleared the doorway."
Owen nodded, no words. He knew the correction was valid. He also knew I was deflecting.
"Santos, good work on the primary search. Quick and thorough." Riley just looked at me, her expression unreadable. "Probies, your communication was sloppy. I need updates every thirty seconds, no exceptions. If I don't know where you are, I can't help you if something goes wrong."
They nodded, chastened. I was being harder on them than necessary. I knew it. They probably knew it too and it showed in the way they flinched under my gaze. They didn't just hear me; they felt the weight of it, the room suddenly turning cold and cramped as they retreated into themselves.
I could feel them watching me as we finished stowing the gear. Liam's sharp eyes tracking my every move. Owen's quiet concern. Even Riley, who usually minded her own business, kept glancing my way like she was waiting for me to fall apart.
I'd never been unfocused on a scene before. In fifteen years, it had never happened. Not even once. Not even in the months after Mateo died, when every call felt like walking back into that warehouse, when I saw his face in every victim we pulled from the rubble. I'd held it together then because I had to. Because the crew needed me. Because falling apart wasn't an option.
Apparently, almost kissing Lucy Moreno was enough to undo fifteen years of ice. I’d always lived behind walls, treating emotions as a liability I couldn't afford. But Lucy got under my skin in a way I’d never experienced. She didn't just break my rules; she made me forget I ever had them.
We finished in silence. I barked out a few more corrections, heard my own voice coming out too sharp, too clipped. Saw Riley's eyebrows rise, without saying anything. None of them did. But I could feel the questions hanging in the air, the careful distance they were giving me.
I finished stowing my gear and headed for the equipment room, hoping for a few minutes alone to get my head straight.
I should have known better.
Liam found me ten minutes later. I was trying to hide myself from the team.
I was sitting on an overturned crate, staring at the wall of hanging turnout gear. Not thinking aboutanything in particular. Just existing in the quiet, trying to stop my brain from replaying the same moment over and over.
Her eyes closing. Her chin tilting up. The ghost of her lips against mine before Gabrielle's cry shattered everything.
"You look like someone's died."
Liam's voice came from the doorway. But I didn't turn around.
"I'm fine."
"Uh-huh." He walked in, grabbed another crate, and dragged it over to sit across from me. "That's why you almost blew a basic entry drill. Because you're fine."
"I said I'm fine."
"And I said, you look like someone's died." He leaned back, crossed his arms. "So which is it? You fine, or is someone dead?"
I didn’t answer, and Liam didn’t insist. He just sat there with me, waiting, letting the silence stretch between us.
Liam knew when to joke and when to shut up. Knew that sometimes the best way to get someone talking was to stop asking questions. He'd wait all day if he had to. Had done it before, after bad calls, after the warehouse, after all the nights when I couldn't find the words for what I was carrying.
The silence stretched. The sounds of the station filtered in from somewhere beyond the door. We could hear someone laughing in the kitchen. Theclang of equipment being moved. Normal sounds from a normal day that felt very far away.
I broke first.
"I'm in love with her."
