Page 17 of Love Again

Claire leans forward. “You worked with this guy. You were in, like, dangerous situations fighting fires, parachuting, eating together, sleeping together, and it never occurred to you that, you know, this guy was hot?”

The butterflies in my stomach cease their fluttering, and I’m so grateful to Luke. Whatever he told them, he left the impression we were just friends.

Maybe I was wrong yesterday. Maybe we are friends.

I take another sip of wine. “I never thought of him that way. We only worked together a few months.”

Chloe steps into the arena now. “Well, I don’t know how you couldn’t. He’s gotta be about six-three, has a gorgeous body, and, well, for me, a great voice.”

My other two sisters nod in agreement.

“Plus, he’s got great arms and shoulders, the stuff you like.”

My face feels hot. “How would you even know that?”

“Devon, you do talk occasionally about what you like. You also like asses, and his is pretty spankable.” Laurel bats her eyes at me.

I draw myself up on the chair. “Okay, that’s enough girl-talk. We’re not discussing this. He was someone I knew years ago. Last time I saw him was two years ago. He’s here on family business, and he’s only going to stay a month, so we don’t need to worry about this.” I pause for effect. “I really don’t want you guys thinking that you’re going to somehow get us together, because it’s not happening.”

The effect is immediate. There is a lot of eyerolling and pouting and worn sighs. My message has been delivered.

΅

My shift starts at six a.m., and then I’m on for twenty-four hours. I usually work a second twenty-four-hour shift because I need the money, and then I get two days off. I’m on the A-Team, which means Luke must have been on the B- Team and worked the days I was off. Keller is a genius.

Monday, I check in, say hi to the other four guys—Jared, Dirk, Nico, and Toby—and do a rig check on the ambulance first thing. As a AEMT, I’m not qualified to perform as many treatments as a paramedic, but I’m more senior to an EMT. When I can scrape together some money, I’m going back to school for paramedic training.

Fire management is what I love, but I see what the paramedics do and know I could do that too. Often, when they arrive, I’ve already made the call and know exactly what to do next. I just don’t have the pedigree to do it.

Mondays are usually quiet, but there’s a three-car accident on Route 1, and two cars are leaking gasoline or oil, so two rigs are called out.

The crash is bad. I can’t believe there are no fatalities. I’m glad for those involved, but I’m also glad for Toby. The last time we were at a crash scene, it was pretty horrific, and he threw up in the bushes.

I help lay chemical fire retardant on the ground while the police divert traffic. From the little snatches of conversation I pick up on, it’s clear this is an operator error crash—one of the parties involved was texting.

Seated back in the cabin, I’m taking notes on the truck’s tablet to translate later when the static-laced call comes through. A house fire in Thomaston. My rig is called to move.

My stomach knots.

The last house fire I fought with, there was one fatality—an infant girl—and it devasted me.

I swallow. Dirk gets behind the wheel. I confirm the call and the sirens go on.

΅

The couple stands in the center of a small clutch of people. Keller’s already here, parked and waving people off the line he’s tossed in the grass.

It’s a two-story colonial with smoke pouring from the downstairs windows. My stomach tightens—it always does. It’s the adrenaline kicking in.

I’m trained for wildfires, anticipating where they’ll leap, what they will consume next. It’s like a chaotic chessboard filled with grass, trees, bushes, updrafts, and downdrafts, and I’ve been matched with a player who plays with no rules. I can strategize all I want—but I can’t compete with crazy.

This kind of work is an adjustment. First, there are more fatalities when saving people from car accidents, homes, and businesses. Second, you can win, there is an end. In wildfire management, there’s always the next season. Though some fire is necessary for forestry management, the kind of out of control disasters I’ve worked seem endless.

Fire is an organism. It germinates, mates, grows, is ravenous, and can die.

And revive.

Toby runs the blue hose while I fix it to a hydrant across the street. Luckily, there are few houses on the block, and the ones that are here are spaced widely apart.