Page 36 of Burn Protocol

“What happened?” Her voice is nearly a whisper.

We both know that she isn’t talking about what happened in the sewers. No. This is about what happened before and why I can’t seem to stop shivering right now. This is about Aran.

“We were only twelve, but we just…f…f…felt so grown up,” I speak slowly, as if my mouth is trying to catch up with my brain.

“When school took us s…s…swimming, we were ecstatic. W…we were all over the place, you know. Like how kids can be?”

I meet Elena’s gaze, almost pleading for her to understand. Her eyes are still soft, and her hand still resting against my cheek. Warm, safe, and grounding. Her nod is gentle and encouraging. I lean into her touch a bit more, to find the strength to continue. She doesn’t pull back. Elena just holds me and I’ve never felt safer.

“It was s…so h…hot that day, and we all jumped i…in and out of the w…w…water the w…whole time. Nobody knew.” A tear slips down my cheek as I look up at Elena again. “Nobody knew, El. Aran was under water for more than two hours, b…before anybody missed him. Nobody knew.”

My body starts shaking again as a sob tears through me. Elena’s eyes widen and her frown deepens as she surges forward. Her arms wrap around me and she pulls me close against her chest. My hands automatically find her back, my fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as if my life depends on it. My forehead rests against her jaw as my tears drip down her collarbone, but Elena doesn’t seem to mind. She just holds me there, with one hand against my head, and the other rubbing soft circles on my back.

“When you w…w…went under…”

I hiccup and can’t finish my sentence. But I don’t have to. Her hand travels from my back to my chin, which she lifts gently with two fingers, forcing me to look at her.

“Hey, I’m right here, Maya. I’m okay.”

I nod weakly, digging my fingers deeper into the fabric.

“You’re here,” I whisper.

“I’m here,” she whispers back, resting her forehead against mine.

I feel the tension siphon out of my body as my breathing follows hers. After a few minutes, I even stop shaking.

Gosh, she must think you are an idiot. She runs into burning buildings for a living and you collapse over something that happened twenty-five years ago.

I open my eyes to find her already staring at me with something hungry in her gaze. Something that sends sparks down my spine.

“El…” I whisper, my voice soft and hoarse for other reasons now.

She softly shakes her head and closes her eyes for the briefest moment. Her chest rises against mine with a long, uneven breath. For a second I think she’s pulling away. Her body shifts like she’s about to step back, like she’s going to put the wall up again. My heart stutters, terrified of the distance, but then she stops. Her hand tightens at the back of my neck, and instead of retreating, she yanks me closer.

Her lips crash into mine, searching, almost pleading for an answer. I arch into her and tilt my head slightly, opening my lips to her. When her tongue slides in, I moan, the sound swallowed by her mouth. It ignites a fire in us both, and suddenly, we are pressing closer and deepening the kiss with a hunger we knew was there but we both chose to ignore. Finally.

When we think of firefighters, many of us think of heroes running into the flames to carry damsels in distress to safety, or about half-dressed men hugging puppies for a picture on our calendars. But it is women like Elena Gonzales who change those ideas.

Lieutenant Gonzales, age 39, spends her life leading her crew into burning buildings, saving victims from drowning, and redirecting wildfires that would otherwise swallow whole villages. She is a true hero, even if she doesn’t wear a cape.

With brown curls in a tight bun and sharp eyes that are always assessing, she is the stunning picture of a…

I am staring at the paragraph for a full three minutes now, stunned by what I actually wrote. Normally I use my first drafts to get an idea of the story, but this has never happened to me. This little piece of writing is laced with personal emotions and thoughts. It’s sappy, it’s weak… it isn’t Elena.

My fingers brush over my lips. Lips that Elena kissed only two days ago—took between her teeth so carefully, before grazing them and sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. Even now, at the thought, my body responds. I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, before I shake my head and delete what I just wrote. You are a professional, Maya. Act like it. I nod once and start again.

Each year, the Barcelona Fire Brigade responds to an estimated 500 structural fire calls. The intensity varies from smoke alarms falsely being triggered to flames blazing out of windows in an all-consuming inferno.

Lieutenant Elena Gonzales, 39, has led her crew into more burning apartments than she can count. The decorated veteran has not only hauled victims out of collapsing buildings, and jumped into murky waters to save drowning children, but she has also fought off wildfires on their path to consume whole villages. All while she kept her head cool, and her team safe.

“It’s my job. My crew looks to me, so I manage my breathing, my thinking, and make only one decision at a time.”

She speaks the words with a certain nonchalance, but any firefighter who has served with her knows that Gonzales is anything but. When you listen to her crew, the true story emerges. A story of a fierce leader who strives to inspire, makes split decisions during heated moments, and always puts the needs of others before her own. A woman who demands respect and loyalty simply by who she is. A woman that proves daily that courage doesn’t come attached to a gender. This is her story.

I lean back and stare at the blinking cursor on the screen. A smile creeps onto my lips. This is me. The real me. Unbiased. Well, sort of. I groan. The truth is that I can’t stop seeing her face. She is everywhere. And I am not sure if I want to stop seeing it either. But if I can’t keep my head in the game, it will definitely mean the end of my career. I can almost hear Helen’s voice shrieking in my ears.

“What part of you thought it was okay to get personally involved with your source? You of all people should know how important ethics are here at Woman at the Front. Especially since we are already under scrutiny for being a feminist magazine.”