Page 98 of Jump

But the remainder of my sentence goes unsaid, because the five-foot something spitfire firefighter I work so hard to dislike slips her foot around the back of my ankle, and slams her body to mine until I’m falling.

Adrenaline burns in my veins, so the fall to the ground, though only six feet, feels like the ten thousand I experience when jumping into a blaze.

The back of my head raps against dirty snow, but before I can lose my temper and tear Ivy apart for being dumb, a sheet of iron cuts through the air where we stood a moment ago—the equivalent of a chopper blade that would have taken my head off—before embedding itself in the side of our truck with the screech of metal piercing metal.

Breathing heavily, and wearing a smile denoting a damn near-miss, Ivy kneels over me and snickers. “I could have remained standing and been safe, Lieutenant. But you…” She offers her hand, and waits for me to take it before popping to her feet, yanking me up with her. She pats my shoulder, dislodging clumps of snow and dirt. “You would’ve lost your head and gotten blood on my turnouts. And that’s just not cool. Now…” she releases my hand and bends to pick up her helmet. “Where do you want me?”

“Hoses.” My voice is hoarse as I reach up and cup my neck. It would have been completely severed if not for her. Exhaling a sigh that is equal parts relief and annoyance, I look to her and shake my head. “Guess I kinda need you on my crew, huh?” I bend and grab my helmet with a smile. “You’re on hoses. But if you tell Viv I nearly died on her birthday, I’m kicking you back to bathroom cleaner.”

Grinning, she says, “Yes, Lieutenant.”

She walks beside me toward a massive warehouse swallowed in orange flames. But she moves with a skip and a smile. Her shoulders sit back and her head is high.

She got what she asked for, and now she has a chance to prove she’s just as good as—or better than—the guys.

“We’ll put this bitch out,” she murmurs. “Then we’ll help you with the girlfriend situation.”

“Pay attention here,” I growl. But my lips remain curved upward as we stop Axel.

“She’s with us,” I tell him. “Keep her alive, for fuck’s sake. I’m done losing people who matter.”

Surprised, already black around the face where soot and ashes settle on his skin, Axel looks to Ivy and nods. “Alrighty. But that means we call her ‘kid’ now. Not me. I’m stepping up in the world.”

“Just do your fuckin’ job.” I swing my helmet up and drop it onto my head. “Jesus. Let’s put this out before it blows a hole in the ground.”

“Kinda like the pet food factory,” Axel snickers. Then he looks around me at Ivy. “You remember when that place blew?”

Vivian

PROMISES FULFILLED

“I don’t want to go out.” I hold the phone to my ear and pat Rocky’s neck as he patrols my apartment with me.

He’s still sore as he walks. Stiff in his movements. And he hates the cone of shame Beckett installed before we left the clinic. But he’s here with me. My brave sentinel, as I move from window to window, door to door, and make sure my apartment is locked up tight for the night.

With Matt on shift until tomorrow, I’m home alone. And the glow of a fire across town, where I know Matt and his crew are on duty, has me turning away from my windows and squeezing my eyes shut to push the burning orange from my vision.

“I don’t want tequila,” I tell Hannah. “I don’t want Rhino’s Club, and I don’t want to put a bra on.”

“But it’s your birthday!” she moans. “You only turn twenty-five once.”

“You only turn every age once,” I grumble, opening my eyes only to roll them as I step away from the window. “And twenty-five isn’t even a special age. It’s not twenty-one. It’s not thirty. It’s just…” I lift a hand, then drop it again in what could be considered a shrug. “Twenty-five.”

“They’re all special,” she growls in response. “All of them, because the alternative is to be dead. And neither of us wants that.”

Ha. Well, maybe if I was dead, Matt would be as obsessed with me as he is with Ainsley.

But that’s an unhealthy thought, borne from bitterness and jealousy. And I’m neither jealous nor bitter. I refuse to allow myself to sink so low, simply because I’m having a crappy day.

So I flip the living room light out and pass the coffee table to pick up the television remote. My bedroom light is on, illuminating the hall, so when I switch the TV off and the living room darkens, I’ll still have that beacon to lead me where I have to go. A path to follow so I run less risk of stubbing my toe and adding to my bad day.

First, I move to the kitchen and pick up the cup of water I set out an hour ago and forgot about, then carrying it back through my living room and into the hall, I peek into Matt’s dark bedroom for just a beat and inhale the scent of his aftershave. The tangy addition of his sweat after a workout. I glance to his bed, knowing we shared it just last night, and wish I could climb under the covers and snuggle in.

He’s not here. He won’t be holding me tonight—on my birthday. But the thought of diving under his blankets and wrapping myself in his scent is tempting enough to make my hands shake.

My jaw quivers. My heart squeezes as disappointment washes through my veins.

But it is what it is. This is the life I chose when I fell in love with, not only a firefighter who works twenty-four-hour shifts, but a man who loved before me. A heart that has already been hurt.

---