Page 40 of Anchor Point

“Right. The fraternization thing. We need to talk about it. Liv, it’s going to be difficult to navigate the rule, with me working for you, and Rosie being ours. It’s been on my mind since I found out about her. But the rule got the last fire chief fired. Of course, he was sleeping with the summer intern. Still, they’ve been looking at all relationship connections since then and making people switch departments.”

“What happens if they can’t switch?”

“Someone has to leave.”

Dread settled in the pit of my belly. I didn’t want to leave the fire department, and I didn’t want Mac to leave either. His gaze met mine, understanding and maybe regret passing over his face. Then his gaze dropped to my lips, and just like before, the look was almost palpable.

I wanted another chance to know what he tasted like. Wanted to see if we’d burst into flames from a single kiss like we had so many years ago.

Mac cleared his throat. “Tell me about the conference.” From there, the conversation chased away the peaceful feeling of the morning and left a sour taste.

I told Mac about my suspicions of the mayor and then watched his eyes grow stormy as I mentioned the man in the elevator. “I don’t know if he’s just out to get me, but I’m concerned about the mayor finding out we had a past relationship, and how that would be handled with their fraternization rules.”

“I get you’re concerned, Liv. But look, you’re already here. There’s no rule that says we can’t be friends. Hell, the whole shift is like one great big family. They do everything together. This is no different. Why don’t you hang out today, take a day off. We can figure the rest out later. Besides, there’s a great burger joint I want to take Rosie to.”

The smart option would be to head home with Rosie, but part of me wanted to stay and enjoy the ride.

“Okay, Mac.” I let the grin spread across my face. “Let’s take a boat ride.”

“Oh my God, Mom, this burger is amazing,” Rosie gushed around a mouthful. Grease dripped down her fingers, and a trail of cheese clung to her chin. Twin spots of ketchup marked her cheeks like dimples.

I laughed at my daughter. It was glorious seeing her happy and in her element. We’d taken a short boat ride, where Mac had taught Rosie more about driving and even let her take the wheel in the less crowded areas. Her connection with Mac had grown deeper, and it was evident that they were truly enjoying spending time together. It was weird being the third wheel to my daughter and her father, but here we were.

Mac had his chair tilted back on two legs, taking long pulls from his soft drink, eyes twinkling above the straw.

At the table next to us, a woman stood abruptly, the chair screeching across the concrete patio. Her wild eyes skittered across the restaurant, just as a bloodcurdling scream ripped from the adjacent beach area.

A man ran into the waist-deep water, then rose with a small child limp in his arms. Mac and I sprang into action. I snatched my phone, already dialing 911. We reached them as the man laid the child on the ground. Mac checked to see if the child was breathing as the distraught man, probably the boy’s father, by his reaction, kneeled next to him.

I dropped to my knees opposite Mac, doing my best to channel his calm, collected front as the operator answered, “911, what’s your emergency?”

Mac checked for pulse and breath, and I fought to keep my voice steady. “We are at Larry’s Dockside Bar. A child was just pulled from the water. Nonresponsive, not breathing, no pulse. We need an ambulance.”

Mac looked at me. “You start compressions.”

A woman pulled the father away to console him. I motioned her to me as I spoke both to her and the operator. “I’m Fire Chief Olivia Hawkins, and this is Captain Mac Collins. 911, I’m passing my phone to…”

I looked at the woman, who replied, “Glori.”

“Glori is going to stay on this line while my partner and I get to work.”

Mac and I fell into a rhythm, me counting to thirty in a steady cadence. I didn’t think. Didn’t otherwise react. Just worked the compressions against his rescue breathing.

“Switch,” I gasped after five rounds.

Mac gave his breaths and moved to take over compressions.

We paused for assessment. Began again. Over and over. Breath, compression, assessment. Until a bag dropped by my head and I felt a presence at my side. Reality began sifting back in. Mac and I moved out of the way to let rescue personnel take over. I sat back on my heels, trying to catch my breath.

“I don’t know how it happened.” The young father, calmer now and able to speak, stood with a police officer. He sliced his fingers through his hair, pulling at it like he wanted to rip it out. The whites of his eyes were still too large, his voice tortured. “I turned around for just a second to empty the cooler. He was playing in the sand while my wife took a load to the car.”

The medic closest to me hit the child with AED paddles and paused. “I’ve got a pulse,” his partner responded, and they continued working the child. Nearby, the parents broke down in each other’s arms.

Mac and I assisted the medics, helping them load the child for the waiting ambulance.

As they lifted the stretcher, the boy began to cry, and my knees went weak. If not for Mac’s arm snaking around my waist, I would’ve hit the ground. Instinctively, I took a step closer, wrapping my arm around him and gripping the shirt at his back for dear life.

He shifted against me, pulling me closer.

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