“Oh, hey,” I blurt out with a small chuckle. “Don’t think you’re supposed to say that, kid.”
“Give me a break, my dad just died,” he deadpans, but I don’t miss the twitch to the corner of his mouth.
I can’t help but laugh because I, too, have a dark sense of humor. “Touché, kid.” Glancing over my shoulder at Ford, who’s watching us with a puzzled expression, I add, “Listen, I gotta run, but if you ever need anything at all—and I mean, anything—you can find me at Station 14. Hang in there. I promise it gets better.”
Lukas holds my gaze for a moment, his eyebrows pinched together and his jaw tight. Then he nods. “Thanks, I really appreciate that.”
Anytime.” Jogging back over to Ford, I say, “Ready?”
“What was that about?” he asks as we make our way to his truck.
I shrug. “Just wanted to let him know he wasn’t alone.”
One
Remi, 3 Months Later
“Listen, Lieutenant, I’ve watched you grow over the last eight years. You’ve stepped up exponentially, handled some really tough calls, have a great head on your shoulders, and your team trusts you.”
Pride warms my chest as I sit across from Chief Daniels in the conference room. “Thank you, Chief,” I say. “Means a lot.”
“I’m not sayin’ it to make you feel good,” he offers bluntly. “I’m sayin’ it because it’s true. I’ve seen your work and know you’ve got the skills to qualify for captain, but I can’t read where your heart’s at, which is why I’m havin’ this conversation with you.”
My brows pinch. “I’m not followin’, Chief.”
“Son, it’s no secret that you want to be captain once Ford becomes chief next year. But before I put your name in the runnin’, I need to know you’re doin’ it because it’s the path you want to be on, and not because it’s what people expect of you.” Heaving a sigh, he continues. “Captain isn’t just a promotion, a new title, or a pay bump. It’s long nights, makin’ more tough,sometimes impossible, calls, and carryin’ your team's worst days on your back. You have the potential. If you didn’t, we wouldn’t even be havin’ this conversation. But I need you to be sure. Lieutenant, why do you want to be captain of Station 14?”
My pulse roars in my ears, and my knee shakes a mile a minute. I don’t know why the question fills my gut with so much anxiety, but it does.
“I’ve put in my time, sir, and it seems like the next logical step.”
“Promotions aren’t assembly lines, Lieutenant,” he deadpans. “You don’t become captain because it’s what you think comes next. And sure, you’ve put in the time, and that matters, of course, but it’s not a reason. Lots of people here have put in time. I want to know what’s driving you, not what you think you’re entitled to.”
Well, shit.
“I just…do.” My mouth is dry, and I feel about two feet tall sitting in this room. “I want to make a difference, help out the community.”
“Wonderful, but everyone in this buildin’ wants that.” Chief Daniels sits forward, staring down his nose at me. “Tell me what difference you want to make, Buchanan. Don’t give me some generic answer you think I want to hear. Give me somethin’ real, somethin’ honest.” Checking his watch, he adds, “Not right now, though. Take some time to think about it, son, and get back to me.”
That wasn’t generic.
With a nod, I stand from my chair as he does the same. “Yes, sir.”
Shaking my hand, his grip tight, Chief Daniels adds, “There’s nobody I’d rather give the position to, Buchanan. But only if your heart’s in it.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
Leaving the conference room, I take a right down the hall that leads to the kitchen. That went…terribly. I’ve wanted the captain position since I made lieutenant a couple of years ago and I learned about Chief’s plan to retire this year. It’s always been the goal. So, why the hell did I freeze like that?
Chief Daniels has been chief since my father was a firefighter. He’s a good, fair man, and we’ve always gotten along. Butgoddamn, if he isn’t intimidating sometimes. It’s probably why every reason I could’ve given him vanished the moment he asked. It’s a big promotion—a big deal—and I don’t want to sound insignificant to him. So, yeah, maybe I gave him answers that wereslightlygeneric, but they’re still honest, too.
As I’m filling up a glass with water, footsteps sound behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, I find Firefighter Stetson walking over to me with purpose.
“Stetson, what’s up?”
“There’s somebody up front who would like to speak with you,” he offers, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.
My brow furrows. “Who is it?”
