Page 5 of Unbelievable You

I rolled my eyes. In the three weeks since the fire at the yoga studio, Tor and I had had this conversation multiple times. Any time my mind would wander, he’d accuse me of thinking about her.

Hunter.

The woman I’d carried down the stairs. She’d been panicking about getting everyone else out and not worried about herself, even as she been coughing from the smoke. That wasn’t surprising, but what was surprising was just how otherworldly beautiful she was. I’d barely been able to focus on doing my damn job after she’d looked at me. Big blue eyes that were luminous in the flashing lights. A face crafted by a master with skill and hair that was pulled back but curled in gentle golden wisps around her face, making her look like an angel. An actual angel that had fallen from the sky and into my arms.

She’d barely spoken to me, but that hadn’t mattered.

“Stace. You’re obsessing.”

I knew I was, but I couldn’t help it. That moment with Hunter had changed my life, and I couldn’t make anyone else understand that.

Everything had gone out of focus around her until she was the only thing I could see. Every cell in my body reacted to being close to her. I’d never experienced anything like that before, but the intensity of it rocked me to my core.

She was someone. She was someone to me. I didn’t know how or why, but she was important. I just knew that she was. I knew it like I knew I loved my brothers. I knew it like I knew I was going to be a firefighter when I was seven. I knew it like I knew my dog, Buck, was mine the first time I saw him at the shelter and he’d run over to lick my face.

Tor continued to tease me as we ordered so much food that the server raised her eyebrows. Tor and I were not small people. We worked out constantly to keep up with our jobs, me as a firefighter, him as a paramedic. To say we could put away a few calories was a massive understatement.

“I haven’t seen you this twisted up about someone in a long time,” Tor said as we sipped our coffee and waited for our orders.

“I’m not twisted up,” I said. “I don’t even know her.” And I didn’t. I didn’t know this woman. And I probably wouldn’t. She was the person I’d think about when people talked about “the one that got away.” Because that kind of spark, that feeling? It only came around once, or twice if you were very lucky.

My mom’s first marriage hadn’t been like that, but her second? When she’d met Tor’s dad in a grocery parking lot because she was screaming at a bigot and he went to defend her, they’d known. They’d both just gotten out of bad marriages and were single parenting on their own. Tor and I were only a few months apart in age and as soon as they brought us all together, we were an instant family. Tor and I always joked that we were twins who were just separated by DNA. Years later our two youngest brothers, Elias and Carson, had made us a complete family of six.

The server brought our plates and they nearly covered the table, but soon all of them were empty.

Tor and I fought over the bill and he ended up winning the arm-wrestling match, so he paid.

We stopped to pick up some waters and mandarin oranges for the team at the grocery store before making it to the field and finding our parents and Eli in the stands. Tor dropped the water and oranges off to the coach and winced as he sat on the bleachers.

“Finally. All my children are here together,” Mom said, giving me and Tor hugs.

“We are together literally all the time,” I said, taking the seat next to her as Tor sat next to Dad. While another man had given me half his DNA, this man, Hamilton Thomas, was my father in every way that mattered.

“I’m bored,” Eli whined. He was twelve and well into his tween stage even if I still thought of him as a baby.

“The game’s going to start in a few minutes and you’d better be paying attention and cheering for your brother,” Mom said, giving him a look.

Eli huffed and I reached over and mussed his light brown hair. He was just grumpy because he wasn’t allowed to bring his gaming system with him. He still had his phone, but it was a stripped-down model with very few apps on it, which was a crime if you asked him.

Finally, the teams took the field and started the game, the kids looking adorable in their little uniforms and cleats and shin guards.

“Go Carson!” we all cheered and hollered as he ran around the field and actually did chase the ball, unlike several of the other kids. Getting a bunch of seven-year-olds to focus was a monumental task.

We lost our minds when Carson scored a goal and did a little cartwheel before doing a ridiculous dance that he’d probably stolen from some video online that Eli had showed him.

“I have no idea where he gets that from,” Dad said with a laugh.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him about what appropriate dance moves are,” Mom said, patting him on the shoulder as she tried not to laugh. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you dance like that a time or two.”

The game ended with Carson’s team, the Tigers, pulling out a win. He was over the moon when we went to grab him to give him hugs and tell him what a good job he’d done.

“I’m so proud of you for trying so hard, Carson,” I told him, crouching down so I could meet his eyes. “Winning is nice, but doing your best is better.”

He nodded, and I could tell he heard and understood me. As the oldest, I took my responsibilities as a big sister seriously. I’d been there the moment that both Eli and Carson had been born and I’d changed their diapers and babysat and helped them both learn how to ride a bike. They needed a big sister to make sure they didn’t turn into little assholes when they became teenagers and beyond. I was be there to make sure that didn’t happen.

Carson’s team always went out for pizza after they won, so I said goodbye to my family and headed to the gym for a workout. I was meeting Rivera and Cooper from my firehouse. The three of us had started around the same time and we’d formed a tight bond being some of the only female firefighters at the station. There were still pockets of men who wished that we could go back in time when women weren’t allowed to do things, and it could wear on you.

I met them in the locker room and since it was leg day, we ran on the treadmills first to warm up and then hit the machines and weights.

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