Page 4 of Set My Soul Ablaze

“Juda . . . Get out . . .” The tightness in my face was enough to deter him from begging anymore.

Juda’s face hardened. “You’re boring. You do nothing exciting. No other man is going to want you.”

“That’s fine. And if you think any sane woman is going to want your drunk, moody ass, you’re going to be in for a rude awakening.

“Mali, if I can’t have you, no one can.”

“Your threats don’t scare me. You wouldn’t even buss a grape if your life was on the line.” I taunted.

He chuckled. “I’ll be back to get my stuff.”

“Don’t bother. I’m going to have all yo’ shit packed up and waiting outside for you in the morning.”

He didn’t say another word. He grabbed his phone and wallet off the coffee table and stormed out.

“Good riddance,” I said before twisting all the locks and heading upstairs to shower.

There was no sadness in my heart. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders as I climbed into the tub to wash away my day and all remnants of Juda.

The heavy bassand rhythmic rap bars blasted from my wireless headphones. My head bobbed between each workout I did. The circuit exercises were my go-to every time the shift dragged. The Cade’s Cove Fire Department had an easy schedule when the time moved fast, but on a slow night, . . . it was extremely slow. Twenty-four hours on, two days a week. This was my first twenty-four-hour shift of the week, and so far, all I’d done was scroll on my phone, eat, and work out.

“Hey, Flame!”

With a quick tap on the screen, I paused my sprint on the treadmill and wiped my face on the small rectangular towel I placed on the handle of the machine at the start of my workout.

“What’s up, Charles?” I removed the headphones from my ears and let them hang from my neck. I grabbed my phone to pause the music and waited for Charles to respond.

Charles Dixson was a probationary firefighter. He’d recently passed his exam and would need to log in a certain number of hours before he could move up in rank.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to bother you, but I need your help—or some advice, rather?”

“About what?”

He let out a frustrated breath. “I can’t meet my time with the bunker drill anymore. Cap says I can’t get in the field until I can successfully do itthreemore times.”

“A’ight. Let me see you run the drill. I’ll give you my advice after I’ve seen your time.”

A hint of relief crossed Charles’s face as he nodded.

“Okay.”

While Charles went back to the training center, I grabbed my bottle of water and towel. I strolled through the fire station, admiring the place I’d given fourteen years of my life to. I’d joined the fire department at nineteen years old—after years of being in trouble and hanging around the wrong crowds. If it weren’t for Captain Henry Moore, I would have probably been another statistic of Black men in prison or dead in a ditch.

When I made it to the training center, I opened the door. Charles had the bunker drill set up and was ready to go.

“A’ight, Charles. Let’s see what the deal is.” I pulled out my phone and opened the timer.

“Thank you again for helping me, Flame.”

I gave a discreet nod of my head, and Charles took off. I could see the wheels turning as he went through each step of the drill.

“C’mon, probie!” I shouted.

Each time he ran the drill, he came in almost two minutes behind the required time.

Charles let out a frustrated breath. “What am I doing wrong?” He threw his helmet at the wall and buried his face in his hands.

“Stop throwing tantrums and pick up your helmet.”