Page 29 of Controlled Burn

The exercise was simple but important—rescue a victim from a smoke-filled room. Probie donned his gear with shaky hands, his movements betraying his nerves.

Ford nudged me with a smirk. “Think he’ll make it through without tripping over his own boots?”

I chuckled, but I watched closely as he fumbled with the equipment. “He’s got potential. Just needs to find his footing. Once his nerves settle, he’ll be fine.”

We ran through the drill three times before Samuel called it good for the morning. I knew he’d been keeping a close eye on the new guy the whole time, but by the last time through, he’d nailed it. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this kind of thing. They did these same kinds of drills in training over and over, but doing it in training and learning your role with a team was different.

He would take a lot of good-natured shit about the times he messed up, but for the most part, he was catching on quick.

I watched as everyone removed their bunker gear and got ready to start the day’s chores. Samuel had gone back to his office and left us to clean up our mess. Kevin and Ford were deep in conversation about something, while Robert was helping Ronda and the probie right a set of bookshelves that had fallen over during the exercise. I grinned, watching them. I tossed up a silent word of thanks to my father for the work he’d done to create a family here at the Sixty-nine because that was exactly what we were. A family.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same as always. We’d rolled out on a car accident, and one call from an office building where someone thought they smelled smoke, that turned out to be someone who’d burned something in the microwave. Other than EMS, calls like those that we labeled good-intent calls, made up most of the ones dispatch sent us out on.

When that happened, the people always apologized profusely, and we could tell they felt silly for calling, but the truth was, we’d much rather go out on a hundred good-intent calls than have a single one where they hesitated to call us, and we were too late.

Midafternoon, I went to the kitchen to start preparing dinner for the guys. I pulled out the crock pot, got it ready to go, and then pulled out all the ingredients for the sauce. All it took was one pot of ruined sauce when we got a call out for me to figure out an alternative to letting it simmer on the stove.

I opened up the cans of San Marzano tomatoes, and then chopped up the bell peppers, mushrooms, and onions real quick. Next, I added my oil into the pan. When it was hot, I tossed in the garlic and let it bloom before adding the chopped veggies. It didn’t take but a minute for someone to pop their head in.

“Smells like someone’s making sauce,” Ronda said, walking over and peeking around my shoulder.

“I am.”

“It’s a good thing Callie doesn’t cook like you do, or I wouldn’t be fit for duty.”

I turned to look at her. “Callie’s a good cook. Last time I came over for dinner that grilled salmon she made was some of the best I’ve had.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t a good cook, but I don’t get pasta stuffed with cheese and delicious garlic bread at home.”

“I don’t eat like this the rest of the week either, trust me.”

“Ronda, you’re up,” someone called from the common area where they’d been playing some video game. That really wasn’t my thing, but a lot of guys really enjoyed it.

“Gotta go kick some zombie ass,” she said with a grin and turned and left the room.

I went back to work on the sauce, getting the spices and herbs just right, and then turned down the burner to let it simmer for a few minutes before I transferred it to the crock pot so it could develop flavor until it was time to assemble the dish and put it in the oven.

I pulled out my phone.

Me: Just finished getting dinner going for the crew, which got me to thinking about our dinner tomorrow. Is there anything you don’t like to eat?

Caleb: Nothing I can think of. I’m easy.

Me: Oh, are you now? I didn’t know that about you.

Caleb: smh. I mean easy to cook for.

I could easily picture him sitting at the counter at the library, his face bright red because he’d realized how that sounded. The boy blushed so easily; it was no wonder he’d never been brave enough to explore his interest in the lifestyle before now.

Me: I knew what you meant. So, no food allergies or anything like that?

Caleb: No. None that I know of. Oh, I don’t like things that are too terribly spicy. I mean, I like some spice, but one time I went to the Indian place with my friend Ezra, and we got goat Rogan Josh, and it set my mouth on fire. I don’t like anything hot like that. I do like salsa, though, and I like jalapeño poppers.

Me: I promise not to make anything that’ll be too spicy then. How about tonight? Do you have a plan that doesn’t include food you can get through the window of your car?

He took a while to answer, and I tried not to worry since he was at work. It could just be that he had to check out someone’s books or help a library patron find something.

I didn’t want to ride him too hard too soon, but because he’d said he needed to eat better, I felt comfortable saying something. Plus, I’d promised the whole Daddy experience, and making sure he was taking care of himself was part of that.

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