Rosa and I stand as well, watching as they pull on their heavy coats and pants with remarkable speed. The easy atmosphere of dinner is completely gone, replaced by urgent purpose.
Gunner reappears in full gear, looking every inch the hero he is. He comes over to us quickly. "Thank you again for dinner. Both of you."
He gives Rosa a quick hug, then turns to me. This time his kiss isn't on my cheek—it's brief but firm on my lips, a promise and a goodbye wrapped up together.
"Be careful," I whisper against his mouth.
"Always am," he promises, then he's jogging toward the engine where Mark and Ash are already waiting.
Rosa and I stand in the doorway of the station, watching as they pull out with lights flashing and sirens wailing, disappearing into the evening to help whoever needs them.
"Will he be okay, Mama?" Rosa asks, slipping her small hand into mine.
I squeeze her fingers, my heart in my throat as I watch the last flash of red lights disappear around the corner. "He will be, baby. He's very good at his job."
I just hope I'm right.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GUNNER
I'm sitting in the fire engine facing backward. Which means I see Amy and Rosa watching me as we drive away. The fear in Amy's face causes my stomach to contract. I can't even begin to think what she's feeling. With her husband, she didn't watch him leap into action to run toward danger, and that's exactly what she just did with me.
"You okay?" Ash asks, from where he sits beside me.
"Good, just wasn't prepared for them to see this."
He shrugs. "It's a part of our lives, brother. It's not like we can change who we are."
And if those aren't the truest words ever spoken, I don't know what is.
The radio crackles to life, dispatch updating us on the situation at Grandview Inn. Structure fire, fully involved second floor, possible occupants trapped. My blood runs cold. The Grandview has been a fixture in our town for over a century, and Mrs. Henderson, who owns it, is like everyone's grandmother.
"ETA three minutes," Mark calls from the driver's seat, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
I can already smell the smoke through the closed windows of the engine. It's acrid, bitter, carrying the scent of burning wood. It makes my gut twist.
When we round the corner onto Main Street, the scene plays out in front of us. Flames are shooting from the second-story windows of the inn, orange tongues licking at the white trim work that Mrs. Henderson spent years restoring. Black smoke billows into the sky, and I can feel the heat even from here.
"Jesus," Ash breathes beside me.
Mark pulls the engine to a stop, and we're out before the wheels stop rolling. The heat hits me immediately, even through my gear. This isn't just a room fire—this thing is hungry, and it's feeding on everything the old building has to offer.
Chief Williams is already on scene with Engine Two, directing water onto the front of the structure. He catches sight of us and waves us over.
"Henderson's accounted for—she's at the hospital getting checked for smoke inhalation," he shouts over the roar of flames and diesel engines. "But we've got a problem. The fire started on the second floor and it's moving fast. If we don't get ahead of it, we're going to lose the whole structure."
I nod, already pulling on my mask. The familiar weight of the air pack settles onto my shoulders, and I check my gauge. Full bottle, which is exactly what I want.
"Gunner, Ash, I want you two on interior attack. Take the front entrance, work your way to the staircase. Mark, you're on the line with them. I'll coordinate from out here."
"Copy that, Chief."
We grab the line off Engine One, and I feel the familiar surge of adrenaline that comes before every interior attack. This is what we train for, what we live for. The moment when everything else falls away and it's just you, your brothers, and the fire.
The front door of the inn hangs open, smoke pouring out like a fire-breathing dragon. Through my mask, I can hear my own breathing, steady and controlled. Beside me, Ash gives me a thumbs up, and Mark takes position at the door with the line.
"Water!" I call, and Mark opens the nozzle. The stream arcs into the smoky interior, and we move forward.
