Page 58 of Smoke Signals

“Give it time,” I say, but I’m smiling.

I look up at the window we just cleared, smoke thinning now, problem solved before it could become something worse. My pulse slows gradually, adrenaline bleeding off in waves.

And without warning, another thought slips in.

Hartley would hate this part. The uncertainty before we knew it was small. It’s the risk nobody can completely erase.

I picture him at home, pacing the apartment, probably checking his phone every five minutes even though he knows I can’t answer. For the first time, finishing a call doesn’t just feel like doing my job. It feels like making it back to someone.

Back at the station, the guys settle into post-call chaos. Coffees get refilled, reports half started, and our gear gets put back in place, waiting for the next call.

Jake drops into the chair beside me.

“So,” he says casually, “you smiling at your phone now?”

I glance down without meaning to.

Hartley’s contact sits at the top of my messages.

“The guy I’m seeing…we made it official,” I admit.

Jake whistles low. “That serious already?”

I shrug, but it isn’t denial. “Yeah.”

Phoenix overhears immediately. “Bro brought feelings back from medical leave.”

“Shut up.”

“Does he know you’re insufferable?” Phoenix asks.

“He does,” I say. “Still said yes.”

That earns a round of approval loud enough to echo through the bay.

I shake my head, but I’m smiling anyway.

My shift ends late in the afternoon. I sit on the back step of Ladder 99 for a minute longer than necessary, helmet resting beside me. I don’t feel hollow like I used to when the day ended.

I know where I’m going next.

I pull out my phone.

Me: Busy tonight?

The typing bubble appears almost immediately.

Hartley: Nope. Just a low key night in. Why?

I hesitate, then type what I actually want.

Me: Can I come over?

Three dots again. Longer this time.

Hartley: Yeah of course.

I grab my keys and head for my truck, already picturing Alaska’s toys scattered across the floor, Hartley pretending he isn’t waiting near the door, the way the apartment feels warmer than my own place ever does.