Page 16 of Uxpectedly Ever After

“Either get your head in the game or get your ass on the bench,” Morgan says, voice firm but not unkind. “Distracted firefighters become dead firefighters, Banks. You know that better than most.”

The image of my dad’s turnout coat floods my brain—hanging in my old closet, the folded flag on Mom’s mantle. The high price you pay when anything goes wrong in this job.

“I got it,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He nods. “Now go do an equipment check on Engine Three. Might help sweat out some of that pent-up energy you’re carrying around.”

I recognize a dismissal when I hear one. I stand, and he calls my name right as I’m at the door. I turn back.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, a rare glint in his eye, “some of the most dangerous fires are the ones worth running into.”

It’s about as close to relationship advice as I’ve ever heard from Bill Morgan. I give a tight nod and leave, determined to clear my head.

I don’t make it ten feet before Brenna corners me at the lockers.

“I’m gonna need you to start talking. Now,” she demands, arms crossed. That’s such a Brenna thing to demand. No lead-in. Just straight to business.

There’s something about Brenna Foxton that reminds me of Clover—she’s got that same no-nonsense attitude, same fierce determination to prove herself in a place that doesn’t always welcome her. Maybe that’s why I end up telling her the truth.

“My apartment flooded,” I say, busying myself with my gear. “Then got mold. I’m crashing at Kasen’s sister’s place until it’s fixed.”

Brenna’s eyes spark in recognition. “Clover, right? She runs that swanky cocktail bar, right?” At my surprised expression, Brenna grins. “Portland’s small, and the female firefighter network is thorough. We’ve had our girls’ night there once or twice, at Ember. That woman makes a gin fizz that'll change your life.”

“That’s her,” I confirm, focusing a little too hard on checking my harness.

“Holy shit.” Brenna’s grin widens as she leans against the lockers. "You've got it bad for her, don't you? That's why you were so distracted today. Morgan had to yell your name three times before you heard him.”

I glare at the locker door. “I don’t ‘have it bad’ for anyone.”

Except the part where I want to hang a sign around her neck that says 'Property of Banks Priestly' and dare anyone to challenge it. But I don’t tell Brenna that.

She snorts. “Please. You look like a guy who’s had a taste of what he wants and can’t stop craving the entire damn menu.”

I slam the locker shut with more force than necessary. "We haven't—there's no 'tasting' happening."

She cocks her head, studying me. “Yet. But you want it to, right? Does Kasen know you’re mentally undressing his sister on the regular?”

I open my mouth to deny it, but her pointed stare kills the words. “…No. And let’s keep it that way.”

"Because?"

“Because Kasen would kill me. And because I promised him I’d look out for her, not try to get in her pants.”

Brenna levels me with a long stare, her expression softening. "Looking out for someone and caring about them aren't mutually exclusive, you know."

"It's complicated."

“Only because you’re making it that way.” She punches my shoulder, just hard enough to sting. “Women like her don’t want a babysitter—they want someone who chooses them. Over and over. Who thinks she’s capable of taking care of herself.”

Her words slam into me like a kidney shot. “That’s… surprisingly insightful.”

“I’m full of surprises.” She winks. “Now do us both a favor and figure your shit out before our next drill. I don’t feel like plummeting to my death just because you’re too busy imagining your landlord naked to clip my harness right.”

Before I can fire back, the station alarm blares—three short tones for a non-fire emergency. The dispatcher’s voice kicks in: “Engine 12, Truck 12, respond to a possible gas leak, 412 Northwest 21st Avenue.”

My stomach lurches. That’s Ember’s block.

All chatter dies as we lunge for our gear and move toward the apparatus bay. I’m on Engine 12, second seat behind Captain Morgan. We screech out of the station with lights and sirens, and I hammer at the mobile data terminal, looking for details.

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