Chapter One
POPPY
Men are like popsicles that you wish you could keep in the freezer so that they never change. Instead, once you unwrap them and they start to melt, they just become one big drippy mess. You enjoyed it while it lasted, but sooner or later, it’s all gone, and all you are left with is one hard wooden stick that gives you nothing.
That’s what happened with me and Dean.
I should’ve called it quits months ago, but I knew that when I finally made the call to break up, work was also going to fall to shit. And I was right. Serves me right for dating a coworker.
I’ve never been so happy to take a vacation away from work at the firehouse and return to my childhood home. I might be a twenty-nine-year-old woman, but there is still something comforting about getting a hug from Mom and being home for Christmas.
Too bad Mom isn’t here yet.
At least being alone will give me time to settle in and catch up on sleep. The last few weeks on shift at the firehouse have sadlybeen busy. Winter brings fires. Faulty heaters are kept turned on, or clothes are left hanging over them to dry, and all the other reasons that put people in danger just trying to stay warm this time of year. Plus the loose dodgy wire in last year’s Christmas lights that are being hung up again, and then there are the car accidents on slippery roads. Not a day goes by where firefighters are sitting idle. But that’s why I chose this profession—to help people in their time of need.
So, a bowl of Mom’s chicken soup that she has left in the fridge for me, followed by a night on my own in my childhood bed, is going to feel like heaven.
I finish the long drive home through the streets of Arlington, and even though I can’t see much in the dark, it doesn’t make any difference, I still know exactly where I’m driving. I mapped out nearly every one of these streets on my bike when I was growing up here. So even though I can’t see everything clearly, between the darkness and the light rain that is falling, just seeing the familiar landmarks is already bringing my stress levels down the closer I get to home.
Pushing away all the thoughts of what I’ve left behind in Rochester, I pull into the driveway, and warmth and comfort settle in my chest.
Mom is due back tomorrow night from my auntie’s house, and then we can start our traditional twelve-days-of-Christmas celebrations. I didn’t make it home last year because of work, so I’m hoping to make this year even more special. Mom is sixty-eight, and although that isn’t old, I just see too much tragedy and sadness in my job to take my time with her for granted. The next two weeks at home are just what the doctor ordered, or what Mom has been nagging at me to take, which is the same thing really.
Turning my key and pushing open the front door, I walk inside and take a big deep breath.
“Ahhh,” I sigh. “Home.” I laugh at myself because I say that every time I step into the living room.
I know it was hard on Mom when I moved away ten years ago, but she never resented me for following my dream of being a New York City firefighter. There is something about that city that pulls you in.
But they don’t tell you the part where it also chews you up and spits you out again just as quickly.
And it’s not only living in New York that can be tough. Being a woman in a male-dominated industry is just as challenging.
The first station I worked at as a probationary was hell, but I gritted my teeth and got through it. The men were tougher with their hazing on me than the male probies, making it clear they didn’t think a woman should be in their firehouse. It was like they thought it would turn me off becoming a firefighter, but all it did was make me more determined to push harder.
Eventually I became qualified and immediately applied for another firehouse in the city, but it was much of the same attitude from the men, so I spread my wings and moved to a firehouse in Rochester. Far enough away from New York City but still inside the state border, just. I’ve been happy there, but the last few months have become uncomfortable since Dean and I broke up. We have tried to stay professional, which is easier said than done when I have to watch him flirting with the new probie, Kyra, who is at least twenty years his junior. That’s what I get for dating an older man who has a thing for younger women, except this time he has gone to the extreme. They say you shouldn’t date where you work, and until a few months ago, I would’ve argued the point because life was all sunshine and rainbows—until it wasn’t. So now I’m the one preaching the mantra to anyone who will listen.
As though Mom sensed that I’ve entered the building, my phone starts ringing.
“Hey, Mom, I just arrived.” I dump my bags on the floor and flop my butt down onto the couch, and then lower myself to lie flat. I grab a few cushions and stuff them under my head.
“I’m so glad to hear it. The roads were icy out there today when I drove to Aunt Gloria’s.” I can hear my aunt and uncle in the background yelling hello to me through the phone.
“Say hi back for me. How is everyone there?” I ask as I settle in for what I know won’t be a five-minute conversation as Mom fills me in on my cousins, who have all been over for dinner to see her and celebrate an early Christmas together. I was hoping I could get home a few days earlier so I could join them, but the roster just wasn’t going to work trying to get someone to cover for me. At this time of year it seems like everyone is booked up with family and friends, and no one wants to take an extra shift.
After I hang up the call, I unpack my bags and eat some dinner and then take a long hot shower. I’m so ready for bed. I break out the Christmas PJs, and as I catch a glimpse of myself in my bedroom mirror, it’s like my brain finally registers that I’m on vacation. The exhaustion hits me, but I know if I go to bed now, I’ll be wide awake at three am. I’m coming off three days of night shift, and it will take a few days for my body to get used to sleeping at night again.
Shift work fucks up my body clock, but it’s a necessary evil in my industry.
I resist the temptation to crawl into bed, and instead get myself comfy on the couch and start flicking through the channels on Mom’s television. Nothing really grabs my interest, so I settle on listening to some music on my phone and then open the current e-book I’m reading on my Kindle. There is no way I would be able to read the physical book in the firehouse because the cover would be a dead giveaway of its contents. A hot steamy romance with a shirtless man on a paperback coverwould just stir up a hornets’ nest at work, and the crap I would cop from the guys would be insufferable.
I was the solo female on the crew until our new probationary, Kyra, arrived recently. Luckily, we have a female EMT in the firehouse—Kamila. She’s not always on the same roster rotation as me, but it’s a welcome reprieve when she is. In the meantime, I’m just trying to keep my head down at work. Since the breakup, the guys on my crew are, of course, taking Dean’s side, so I refuse to give them any more ammunition. I’ve just been doing my job to the best of my ability and keeping to myself, and definitely not advertising my reading material.
I get so engrossed in the story that the moment my phone rings beside me, I almost fall off the couch with fright.
I smile as I pick it up because I knew this call was coming.
“You better have left time in your social calendar for me while you’re here,” Autumn, my childhood best friend, screams through the phone with excitement.
