This man, who ran into burning buildings for a living—who stayed calm when ceilings collapsed, and walls exploded—was shaking because I was in labor.
“I’m okay,” I told him. “We’re okay.”
“I know.” He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were wet. “I just—I needed to see you. I needed to be here.”
Another contraction hit. I grabbed his arms, my fingers digging into his biceps, and he held me through it. His voice low and steady in my ear, counting me through it the way Tina had been, his hands solid on my back.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you. We’ve got this.”
The contraction passed. I sagged against him, breathing hard.
“The bedroom,” I managed. “I think—I need to lie down.”
Owen didn’t hesitate.
He lifted me like I weighed nothing. Eight months pregnant and all, he carried me up the stairs.
Another contraction hit halfway up. He stopped, held me through it, and didn’t let go until it passed. His arms wrapped around me, solid and sure, his voice a constant murmur against my hair.
“I’m here. I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
He’d run out of a fire for me.
This was what showing up looked like.
CHAPTER 19
Owen
The tones droppedduring equipment checks.
I had the hydraulic spreaders in my hands, running through the weekly inspection the way I’d done a thousand times. Muscle memory. The kind of task that lets your mind drift while your body does the work.
My mind was on Grace.
Three weeks until the due date. I’d kissed her goodbye that morning, my hand on her belly, feeling Hope shift under my palm.
Call me if anything happens.
Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve got three weeks.
Call me anyway.
She’d rolled her eyes. But she’d also leaned into my hand, just for a second—the way she did when she wanted me to know she appreciated being worried about.
The alarm cut through the station.
“Engine 7, Truck 3, Battalion Chief. Structure fire, 847 Maple Street. Two-story residential, heavy smoke showing, reports of occupants trapped. Repeat, occupants trapped. Family of four.”
I set down the spreaders and moved.
Turnout pants—already on. Boots. Coat. Helmet. My hands knew the rhythm even when my brain was somewhere else. Seventeen years of muscle memory, bred into me since before I could drive.
The engine rumbled to life. Liam was already in the driver’s seat. Kowalski and Reyes climbed in behind him.
Family of four. Occupants trapped.
I grabbed the rail to pull myself aboard.
