Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“Good,” I say.
“Because you like it?” she challenges.
Because it keeps my hands from doing something stupid. “Because it keeps you professional.”
She hums, unimpressed. “You’ve always loved giving orders.”
Ash chokes on a laugh. I cut my eyes toward him. “Ash, find something to do.”
“I am doing something,” he says, delighted. “I’m witnessing history.”
“Go witness it from the other room.”
He saunters away like he has all day.
Sadie’s gaze stays on me. “Are you always this charming with new interns?”
“Yes,” I deadpan. “They love it.”
“Liar.”
“Truth.”
She tilts her head, studying me like I’m a problem she wants to solve. “You look… older.”
“Thanks.”
She snorts. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” I cut in, and my voice comes out rougher than I want. “Focus.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Yes, sir.”
Heat flicks down my spine. It shouldn’t. It’s one word. But on her mouth, it lands like a dare.
I lean in just slightly, letting her feel the shift without giving her contact. “Try that again.”
Sadie’s breath catches. Not dramatic. Not performative. Real.
Her gaze drops to my mouth, then jerks back up. “Try what again?”
I let a slow smile pull at one corner of my mouth, because if I don’t find some control here, she’s going to take it. “Calling me sir.”
Her cheeks color faintly, like she’s furious her body betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I straighten. “Because you’re about to learn how this works.”
She sets her jaw. “And how does it work, Lieutenant?”
I point toward the equipment wall. “Start with the gear inventory. Learn the names. Learn the placement. Learn why it’s there.”
“That’s busywork.”
“That’s survival,” I correct. “When you’re in smoke and you can’t see your own hand, you don’t get to guess.”
Her expression flickers—something serious sliding in behind the sass. “Fine.”
She moves to the wall, clipboard ready, pen poised. The sight should feel normal. A new intern learning the ropes. Instead it feels like I’m watching the person who broke me take notes in the place I rebuilt myself.
Axel strolls by behind her with deliberate loudness. “Hey, Intern Marshall, if you need help, Lieutenant Kane is very… hands-on.”
Sadie doesn’t look away from the equipment. “I’m sure he is.”
Axel laughs, delighted.
I snap, “Axel.”
“What?” he says. “I’m helpful.”
“Go be helpful somewhere else.”
He saunters away, still grinning.
Sadie makes a mark on her clipboard, then glances over her shoulder at me. “Does your crew always flirt like this?”
“Yes,” I say.
“About me?”
“About everything,” I correct. “They have the maturity of twelve-year-olds.”
Sadie’s lips twitch. “That hasn’t changed.”
I don’t answer, because too much hasn’t changed.
She turns back to her task, but her voice drifts over her shoulder, softer now. Less weapon, more… something else.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she says.
My chest tightens. “You didn’t ask.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask who’s working at the firehouse.”
“You should’ve,” I say anyway, sharp as a blade, because anger is easier than whatever else swells in my throat. “You show up after years and act like it’s just… normal.”
Sadie goes still. The pen pauses mid-air.
Then she turns, slow.
Her eyes are bright, but not teary. Just alive with something fierce.
“I didn’t act like it was normal,” she says, voice quiet and dangerous. “I walked in here with my heart in my throat and you know it.”
My pulse hits hard.
The bay feels too big and too small at once. My guys are close enough to hear, far enough to pretend they can’t. The walls are lined with gear and history and the life we all live when we’re not pretending.
I take one step toward her. Not close enough to touch. Close enough that she feels the heat.
“This isn’t about your heart,” I say, low.
Sadie’s chin lifts. “What’s it about then?”
I let my gaze drag over her face, slow and deliberate, because I’m done pretending she doesn’t affect me. “It’s about control.”
Her breath hitches again.
“Mine,” I add.
She swallows. “You have plenty of that.”
“Do I?” I ask.
Sadie’s eyes flick down to my hands—big, scarred, steady. Then back up. “You always did.”
I lean in a fraction more. “And you always liked pushing it.”
Sadie’s lips part. She catches herself. Closes them. “I’m here to learn,” she says, like she can shove the moment back into a box with the right words.
“Good,” I say. “Then learn this first.”
Her eyes narrow. “What?”
My voice drops. “You don’t get to walk back into my life and act like you didn’t leave a mark.”
Sadie holds my gaze, stubborn as ever. “I didn’t ask you to stay marked.”
“You didn’t have to,” I say, and the words come out like gravel.
For a second, her expression softens—just a crack—before she rebuilds the wall.
“Lieutenant,” she says carefully, like she’s stepping back over the line. “Do you want me on gear inventory, or do you want me on emotional autopsy?”
A laugh barks out of me before I can stop it. Short. Sharp. Unfamiliar.
Sadie blinks, thrown.
“Gear inventory,” I say. “But nice try, Hotshot.”
The nickname slips out like it was waiting behind my teeth.