Page 6 of Burning Hearts
“Brickyard Brewery.”
A cheer surged from the back where Station 1 sat. No whoop from Cade; his table whooped for him. He took it in stride.
Another spin, wood on wood.
“Signal House.”
A camera at the stage edge blinked red. I kept my face producer-neutral and let the stomach-drop skate down my spine. At least it would make great television. Jonah would be thrilled Signal House got the draw.
But now my entire reputation would need to be rehabbed.
One more draw.
“Wick & Wax Candle Bar.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room until Miss Pearl lifted her clipboard. Quiet returned. Somewhere behind me, the CANDLELIGHT EFFECTS ARE SIMULATED sign gleamed.
Online, the Biscuit Fire had earned the town the nickname of Ember City. But in rooms where Tansy could hear, it was “the pastry incident” and “Riverfield.”
And just like that, Residency Week had its trio: Brickyard Brewery, Signal House, and Wick & Wax.
Seven days to prove our merit before the board’s vote on Thursday.
Applause settled into sorting. Pins traded hands, lapels bloomed #TeamBrew, #TeamSignal, and #TeamWick like rival schools at homecoming. I heard people whispering again about counting the tokens. Beau’s social team posted a poll faster than you could say Riverfield.
The town had its rivalry now. I had my villain origin story: nepo nephew.
I cleared a path in the wing for the bank president’s exit and nearly ran into Cade again.
Rivals weren’t hypothetical anymore; I was staring at one.
Up close, the suit read function, not peacocking—the kind you wear because the job requires it, not because you want to be watched. He skimmed the cable run, then me. I braced for a joke with my last name in it.
“Congrats,” he said, voice low enough just for us. “Keep your runs clean.”
Relief loosened something I hadn’t noticed I was holding.
“Always,” I said, matching his tone. “And count the tokens.”
His eyes held mine for a single, neutral beat—the human equivalent of all clear—then the crowd took him toward the west doors. Phones were still up. The brass band in the corner slid into something bright.
Over by the sponsor wall, people practiced being seen and noticed. Station 1’s table laughed as if they had good stories to tell.
My phone buzzed. Beau had started a text thread with all the finalists, which he named Tokens & Hairspray. He also added Wyatt Kerr, Riverfield’s Deputy Fire Marshal, and designated safety brain.
Beau:Press clarifications. Cade is our fireman. Ellis, Producer. And Wick, a finalist.
Another buzz with a different tone. Not the thread. A new bubble.
Cade Briggs:Good catch on keeping the cable path clean.
My thumb hovered as I reminded myself it was professional courtesy, not flirting.
Me:Good catch on keeping me upright.
He answered before my pulse could settle.
Cade:For the record, that token stunt wasn’t on you.
