Page 49 of Embers in Autumn
Mike was loaded into the back of the ambulance, protesting the whole way. “It’s just a bruise,” he grumbled, clutching his side, but the paramedic gave me a look that said otherwise. Cracked rib, maybe two. He’d be benched for a while.
“Let them check you out,” I told him, firm. “Better safe than sorry.”
He shot me a look that could’ve burned hotter than the fire,but he didn’t fight as the doors slammed shut. The siren wailed once, fading into the dawn.
By the time we rolled back into the firehouse, the sky was bruised with gray and pink. Everyone was dragging, soot-streaked and reeking of smoke, but alive. We dropped our gear, the clatter of helmets and SCBA packs echoing through the bay.
I stood near the rig, my hands braced on my hips. The men and women of my crew gathered, waiting. I wasn’t one for long speeches, but sometimes they needed to hear it out loud.
“Good work tonight,” I said, my voice gravelly from smoke. “We stopped it before it spread. We did our job. That’s all that matters.”
There were nods, tired but proud. Alvarez muttered something about coffee strong enough to melt steel. Carter, the youngest of the bunch, grinned. “Or we could grab a beer. Shift’s over in thirty. First round’s on me.”
I barked a laugh, shaking my head. “It’s six in the morning.”
Carter shot back without missing a beat. “It’s five p.m. somewhere.”
The others chuckled, and for a moment the tension broke. I felt the warmth of it too, but beneath it was something heavier. I remembered the days in my twenties when a night like this would’ve ended with us crowded in some bar, beer sweating in our hands, adrenaline still buzzing too loud to let us sleep.
Not now. Not at thirty-seven. Which, let’s face it, was just a polite way of saying I was pushing forty.
“You go,” I said, giving Carter a nod. “I’m passing.”
I could feel their grins as they clapped my shoulder and filed out. They’d go, sure enough. Blow off steam the way we all used to. But I had no pull left in me for cheap beer or loud bars.
I clocked out, the screen glowing07:00sharp. Outside, the air was damp but clean, the drizzle gone, the streets slick with dawn light. I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering for a secondlonger than it should.
Then I typed.
Dean:Good morning.
The words looked too simple, not nearly enough to hold everything I wanted to say. But I hit send anyway.
CHAPTER 15
Amber
The first thing I heard was the faint buzz on my nightstand. I cracked one eye open, blinked against the pale light seeping through the curtains, and reached for my phone.
Dean: Good morning.
A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it, my cheeks already warming. God, I felt like a teenager. Giggles before coffee—what was happening to me?
Amber: Morning yourself, firefighter. Survive the night?
The typing dots popped up almost immediately.
Dean: Barely. Long one. Warehouse fire. Had to pull Mike’s stubborn ass out before he got flattened.
I sat up, hair a mess around my face, grinning like an idiot at the screen.
Amber: You’re kidding. Is he okay?
Dean: Cracked rib maybe. He’ll live. Already complaining too much for a man who’s hurt.
I snorted, tossing the blanket off as I padded into the bathroom. Toothbrush in one hand, phone in the other. Multitasking at its finest.
Amber: I need to go buy batteries today.
