Page 3 of Falling Again For My Best Friend's Brother

The rumble of my motorcycle's engine sent a familiar thrill through me as we tore down Main Street. All too soon, the fire station loomed ahead. I cut the engine, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

This was it. My shot at redemption, a chance to prove I wasn't the same reckless kid who'd left Rivermint Cove in the dust. As I unclipped Hero from his backpack, a familiar voice cut through the morning air.

"Well, well, if it isn't Trevor Phillips."

Mike Jacobs. Mike never missed a chance to get under my skin in high school, and it looked like he was ready to keep the rivalry going.

His sneer hadn't changed since high school. "Cute accessory, Phillips. I knew you were soft, but a chihuahua? This takes pathetic to a new level."

Hero let out a tiny growl, picking up on my tension. I scooped him up, my hand automatically smoothing his fur.

"What's the matter, tough guy? Little Fifi got your tongue?" Mike jeered.

I took a deep breath, tamping down the urge to snap back. The old Trevor would've taken the bait, but that guy was long gone.

"Good one, Mike," I said dryly. "If the firefighter thing doesn't work out, you should try stand-up comedy." With that, I turned on my heel, refusing to waste another second on his petty taunts.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but think about how I'd ended up with Hero. Back in high school, when I was racking up detentions like baseball cards, the guidance counselor had "suggested" I volunteer at the animal shelter. That's where I'd met Taco, a scrappy little chihuahua who'd been through torture but still had a fight in him.

Now, years later, when I'd gone back to that same shelter, it was like déjà vu. There was Hero, all four pounds of attitude, reminding me so much of Taco. We'd locked eyes, and I knew—we both needed a second chance.

I shook off the memory as I entered the station, heading straight for the small area set up as a doggie daycare. "Alright, buddy, time to clock in," I said, setting Hero down. He looked up at me, ears perked. "I'll be back before you know it. Be good."

After changing into my uniform, I made my way to the kitchen, where some of the guys I'd met during training were gathered.

Danny, a fifteen-year veteran, chuckled and gave me a playful shove. "Well, if it isn't the newbie. You ready to prove yourself today, Phillips?"

"Just try and keep up old man," I shot back with a grin. The banter reminded me of my army buddies, easing some of the tension I'd been carrying.

Frank was at the coffee maker, brewing a fresh pot. The rich aroma hit me, bringing back memories of pre-dawn drills and night watches. "Make sure you save some for the rest of us," he said as I reached for a mug.

"No promises," I laughed, pouring myself a cup. I took a sip, savoring the flavor. It was a far cry from the bitter sludge we'd gulped down during deployment, but it still felt like fuel for the day ahead.

The alarm blared, cutting through the morning calm. In an instant, we were moving, a well-oiled machine despite my newbie status. As we loaded onto the truck, I felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. I may have left my military past behind, but some things never changed—like my need for action.

The morning flew by in a blur of calls—a kitchen fire, a cat stuck in a tree (cliché, but true), and a false alarm at the elementary school. By the time we got back to the station, my uniform was soaked with sweat and smelled of smoke, but I felt more alive than I had in months.

As I was cleaning up, Donovan swung by the station. We grabbed some coffee and found a quiet corner to catch up.

"Remember that time you put chickens in the school hallway?" Donovan chuckled, shaking his head. "They had to send everyone home early just to catch them all. Classic Phillips."

I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I was a real piece of work back then." Those pranks seemed like a lifetime ago. "Things change, I guess."

"Speaking of change," Donovan said, a hint of mischief in his voice, "I heard you're living above the flower shop now. Amelia's place, right?"

I shifted in my seat, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, Susan arranged it. Haven't really talked to Amelia much, though. I don't think she's too keen on having me around."

Donovan nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "Can't blame her, man. You did kind of leave her hanging after that kiss behind the bleachers."

"Trust me, it's one of my biggest regrets," I admitted with a sigh. My mind wandered to the other day when I'd glimpsed Amelia in the shop, working on an arrangement. She'd grown into a beautiful, captivating woman. Not that I'd ever admit that out loud.

I quickly steered the conversation to safer waters, asking Donovan about his job at the auto shop. As we talked, I found my thoughts drifting back to Amelia and the mess I'd left behind. Part of me wanted to make things right, but another part knew I was here to prove myself as a firefighter, not to rehash old drama.

As Donovan left, I checked my watch. My shift was almost over, and I had plans to head back to the animal shelter. I'd promised to help walk some of the dogs, a habit I'd picked up since adopting Hero. It felt good to give back, to remember where this new chapter of my life had really started.

But something told me that Amelia and our unfinished business would continue occupying my thoughts, whether I liked it or not. Rivermint Cove was giving me a second chance, and I was determined not to waste it—in my career or in my personal life.

Chapter three

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