I check my reflection in the headquarters bathroom mirror for the third time, adjusting the collar that suddenly seems determined to strangle me. The brass buttons gleam. The creases are sharp enough to cut glass. Everything's perfect.
So why do my hands keep shaking?
"You look like you're about to face a firing squad." Derek appears in the mirror behind me, grinning like the unhelpful best friend he is. "Relax. It's just a promotion ceremony, not a court martial."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one about to stand in front of the entire department."
"No, I'm the one who gets to watch you sweat through your fancy uniform." He claps me on theshoulder. "Seriously, man. You've earned this. Stop acting like they're going to realize they made a mistake and tackle you off the stage."
"That's weirdly specific."
"I have an active imagination."
The bathroom door swings open, and Whitaker pokes his head in. "Lieutenant? They're ready for you."
Lieutenant. Not for much longer. In twenty minutes, I'll be Captain Gentry—assuming I don't pass out from nerves first.
"Coming." I take one last look in the mirror, square my shoulders, and follow Whitaker into the hallway.
The main hall is packed. Folding chairs fill the space in neat rows, occupied by dress uniforms and civilian clothes alike. I spot my crew near the front—Johnson giving me a thumbs up, Martinez pretending to wipe away a tear. My mother sits in the second row, already dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, my father beside her looking proud in that quiet way of his.
And in the third row, hair catching the overhead lights, Riley.
She's wearing a green dress I've never seen before—simple, elegant, bringing out her eyes in a way thatmakes my breath catch. Her glasses are the same, though. Some things don't change.
Our eyes meet. She smiles—small, private, just for me—and the shaking in my hands settles.
I can do this.
Chief Rodriguez stands at the podium, silver hair immaculate, dress uniform pristine. She's got that expression she wears for official functions—serious but warm, the kind of presence that commands respect without demanding it.
"Today we gather to recognize excellence in our department," she begins, her voice carrying easily through the hall. "To honor those who have demonstrated exceptional dedication, skill, and integrity in service to our community."
I take my place in the front row beside Captain Vasquez, who gives me a small nod. She's the one who recommended me for this promotion—who saw past the social media presence to the work underneath. I owe her more than I can say.
"Our first recognition today goes to someone whose recent work has brought credit to our entire department." Chief Rodriguez's gaze shifts to the left side of the hall. "Investigator Riley Pritchard, please come forward."
My head snaps toward Riley, who looks equallysurprised. She rises from her seat, smoothing her dress with hands that aren't quite steady, and makes her way to the front.
"Investigator Pritchard's work on the recent arson case demonstrated exceptional analytical skill, dedication, and courage," Chief Rodriguez continues. "Her identification of the pattern connecting multiple fires, her meticulous evidence collection, and her pivotal role in apprehending the suspect prevented further destruction and potentially saved lives."
Riley stands at attention beside the podium, cheeks flushed, clearly uncomfortable with the public attention. But she holds her ground, chin lifted, professional to the core.
"It is my honor to present Investigator Pritchard with the Department Commendation for Investigative Excellence."
Applause fills the hall. I clap harder than anyone, not caring who notices. Chief Rodriguez pins the commendation to Riley's dress, shakes her hand, and leans in to say something I can't hear. Whatever it is makes Riley's eyes brighten with something that looks like tears she's refusing to shed.
She returns to her seat, and our eyes meet again.I mouth "proud of you" across the space between us. She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.
"And now," Chief Rodriguez says, "we turn to the matter of promotion."
The next few minutes blur together. Vasquez speaks about leadership qualities and community engagement. Chief Rodriguez reads from an official citation that mentions training certifications, incident command, and "exceptional interdepartmental cooperation"—which gets a knowing murmur from the crowd and a snort from Riley's direction.
Then I'm standing at the podium, right hand raised, repeating the oath of office while my mother cries openly and my father pretends he isn't doing the same.
"By the authority vested in me, I hereby promote Aiden Gentry to the rank of Captain in the Copper Ridge Fire Department."
Chief Rodriguez removes my lieutenant's insignia and replaces it with the captain's bars. The metal is cool against my collar, heavier than it should be. Heavier than I expected.
