Page 48 of Phoenix Rising

Lucinda decided that she needed to clear her head and regain some sense of normalcy. She texted Clara, asking her to schedule some time off in the coming months. The intensity of the last week had taken its toll, and she realized she needed a break, if only to reassess her own life and emotions away from the chaos of the hospital.

In the following days, Lucinda threw herself into her work with renewed vigor. She participated in meetings, reviewed trauma protocols, and addressed ongoing cases with a sharp focus. Yet even as she tried to immerse herself in her professional responsibilities, the personal turbulence of her breakup with Becky lingered in the background.

The board meeting she had initially forgotten about was a grueling session that demanded her full attention. Discussions about new trauma protocols and hospital policies required detailed input from her, and Lucinda found herself in the role of a leading authority. Her input was valued, and her expertise was acknowledged, but her internal struggle with her personal life made it difficult for her to engage with her colleagues fully.

When she returned to her empty apartment in the evenings, the silence was overwhelming. Lucinda had always thrived on action and interaction, and the quiet of her home felt like an echo chamber for her unresolved feelings. She would sit by the window, staring into the night, hoping Becky would knock on her door.

One evening, feeling particularly drained, she decided to take a walk. The familiar paths around her neighborhood offered a semblance of peace. As she walked, she pondered the possibility of starting fresh. Moving someplace else, starting anew.

I need someone who can face challenges with me, not someone who runs away.

She realized this was her pattern. When things got tough, when everything became too overwhelming, she would run. She did it with Iris and her ex-fiancée Claire.

In the end, Lucinda knew that the path forward would require patience. She had given everything to her work and patients, but she also needed to give herself the grace to heal and understand her own heart. Her days were filled with the noise of the hospital and the demands of her role as the head of trauma, but her nights were spentgrappling with the echoes of past love and the uncertainty of the future.

Love?

Where had that word come from? Love was passion. Love was fire. Love was warm and all-consuming. And all Lucinda would ever know was ice and emptiness.

13

BECKY

The early morning haze hung over the Phoenix Ridge Firehouse like a shroud, the air thick with the weight of a summer storm that never quite arrived. The sun had barely begun to creep over the horizon, casting a thin, pale light through the station's grimy windows. Inside, the atmosphere was anything but calm.

Becky prowled the station with the intensity of a caged tiger. Her usual gruff demeanor was magnified today, her frown etched deeply into her ordinarily calm face. Her green eyes were narrowed, and her jaw was set in a hard line. The station's usual hum of activity had been replaced by an uneasy quiet as if the crew had collectivelydecided to walk on eggshells rather than risk invoking her ire.

"Hey, Chief," Lieutenant Zoey Knight ventured cautiously, a coffee cup trembling in her hand. "Um, did you need the progress reports on the green?—"

Becky's sharp gaze cut her off. "Just get it done, Knight," she snapped. "We've got a stack of paperwork that looks like it’s breeding on its own. I don’t have time for idle chatter."

Zoey nodded vigorously and scurried away, her shoulders hunched. The old firehouse had always been a place of camaraderie, but lately, it felt like a battleground, with everyone doing their best to avoid the flare-ups of their usually formidable leader.

The truth was that Becky had been in a terrible mood for weeks. The breakup with Lucinda had hit her harder than she’d ever admit. Lucinda had been more than just a partner; she’d been the soft spot in Becky’s otherwise impenetrable armor, the spark that lit up even the darkest corners of her heart. Now that Lucinda was gone, all that remained was a smoldering wreckage of what used to be.

The station's kitchen, a small, cluttered spacewith a stainless steel fridge and a coffee machine that had seen better days, was particularly reflective of Becky’s mood. Coffee stains marred the counter, and a stack of dirty dishes teetered dangerously near the sink. It was in this chaos that Captain Carter, a seasoned firefighter with a penchant for order, dared to approach her.

“Chief,” Carter said, trying to sound as neutral as possible, “the annual inspection is coming up next week. We need to get the equipment checked and the records updated.”

Becky’s eyes flashed with irritation. “I know when the inspection is, Captain.”

Carter nodded, stepping back as if she might get burned. “Just wanted to make sure you were aware.”

“I’m aware,” Becky replied tersely. “I’m always aware.”

As Carter retreated, Becky let out a harsh breath, feeling the pressure build in her chest. It wasn’t the firehouse’s fault that everything felt out of control; it was her own struggle to reignite the spark that had been extinguished. The firehouse was supposed to be her refuge, but lately, it felt more like her cage. Even her office went back to its usual disaster state. Becky didn't realize thatshe was keeping it tidy for Lucinda until she was gone.

Just then, the fire alarm rang out with its piercing shriek, jolting Becky from her spiral of self-pity. The crew’s practiced responses were immediate, their movements swift and precise as they prepared for the emergency. Becky’s instincts kicked in, and despite her lingering frustration, she fell back into her role with the ease of a well-worn routine.

“Alright, people!” Becky barked, her voice cutting through the tension. “We’ve got a situation. Let’s move!”

She could do this. This was familiar. Her work was certain. What happened to Wilson last week was Becky's miscalculation because she wasn't focused on her job. She was so focused on the wreckage of her relationship with Lucinda that she had gotten sloppy with her work. Well, that wasn't going to happen again.

As the firefighters scrambled into action, Becky took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. For now, she would push aside her personal demons and do what she was trained to do. But as the firehouse doors swung open and the crew surged into action, Becky couldn’t shake thefeeling that the real fire she needed to fight was still burning within her.

The day slowly faded into evening as Becky pulled into the driveway of her modest house. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the yard, and the sky was painted in hues of pink and orange. Becky barely noticed the beautiful colors; her mind was still consumed by the negative feelings drowning her senses.

She trudged up the front steps, her work bag heavy on her shoulder. Inside, the house felt unusually quiet. The warmth and coziness seemed to have vanished, leaving a stark emptiness in its place. As Becky hung her keys on the hook by the door, she heard the faint, cheerful chatter of Ember, Josephine and Natalie coming from the kitchen. She hadn’t known that they were coming over, but she felt grateful for the intrusion.

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