Page 4 of Her Ohio Old Flame

“Hey, Cap!” Jake’s voice broke the morning calm. The lanky firefighter approached, grinning. “You catch the game last night? Looks like you owe me twenty bucks.”

Zane chuckled, shaking his head. “Double or nothing on next week’s game?”

“Done.” Jake’s grin widened.

Nearby, Rosales meticulously checked equipment, his stout frame bent over the hoses.

Zane approached and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “How’s Maria holding up? Only three weeks to go, right?”

Rosales straightened, his serious expression softening into a rare smile. “She’s doing well, Chief. And yeah, it’s almost time. My leave request is already on your desk.”

“Good,” Zane nodded. “Make sure you’re ready when she is.”

As Zane made his way toward the entrance, Tim intercepted him, a young recruit brimming with energy. Playfully, Tim lunged, attempting to catch Zane off guard. With the practiced ease of a former football player, Zane sidestepped and wrestled the younger man into a light headlock, both laughing.

“Gotta be quicker than that, rookie,” Zane teased, releasing him with a pat on the back.

Cool air enveloped Zane as he entered the building, carrying the scent of brewing coffee. He called out a greeting to Megan, who coordinated communications for the fire department, police, and local doctor—a linchpin in the tapestry of small-town life.

“Morning, Megan. Anything on the docket?”

She glanced up from her array of monitors and offered a bright smile. “Nope, everything’s quiet, sir. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Zane nodded. “Yeah, well… quiet has a habit of going up in smoke around here.”

Megan chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Don’t jinx us, Chief.”

As he moved toward his office, he glanced toward the police department’s side of the building. Through the glass partition, Police Chief Lou Santana had his head bent over paperwork. Lou looked up, caught Zane’s eye, and offered a nod. The two shared a mutual respect, their departments often working in tandem to keep Peaceful safe.

Zane returned the nod, contentment settling over him. In a town like Peaceful, the lines between roles often blurred. But that was the beauty of it—a community working together, each person playing their part.

The day began with the familiar routine of equipment checks. Zane moved through the apparatus bay, running his fingers along the hoses, feeling for any signs of wear, and ensuring the nozzles were free of debris. When he opened the compartment doors of Engine One, he verified that the axes, halligans, and thermal imaging cameras were in their designated places, ready for immediate use. The scent of polished metal and faint traces of smoke lingered.

Satisfied with the inspections, Zane joined his crew in the kitchen, where bacon sizzled on the griddle. The kitchen, with its worn wooden table and mismatched chairs, served as the heart of the firehouse—a place where stories were shared, and camaraderie was built. Jake stood at the stove, scrambling eggs, while Tim set out plates and silverware. The radio played at a low volume in the background, a country tune that added to the homey atmosphere.

“Hope you’re hungry.” Jake dumped the eggs onto a plate at the same time Megan came in with a basket of bread. The aroma was mouthwatering.

Zane chuckled, taking a seat. “Always am when you’re cooking, Jake.”

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, touching on local news, family updates, and lighthearted teasing.

After breakfast, the crew assembled in the training yard for drills. Today’s focus was ladder operations and search-and-rescue techniques. Under the clear blue sky, they worked with steady precision, deploying ladders against the station’s training tower. The metallic clatter of extending ladders and the rhythmic thud of boots on rungs punctuated the quiet morning air.

“Speed’s important, but safety’s everything.” Zane’s voice carried across the yard.

The team moved with practiced efficiency, ascending and descending until their rhythm mirrored the seamless hum of the firetruck’s engines. Each motion was deliberate, honed by years of trust and repetition.

Next came the search-and-rescue scenarios. Donning their full gear, the firefighters navigated the wooded area behind the station to locate and extract training dummies hidden among the trees and brush. The faint smell of pine and damp earth mingled with the sharp tang of sweat, recalling the rugged terrain they often faced in real emergencies.

Zane walked among them, watchful and steady, offering guidance where needed. “Keep your pace,” he advised as Jake adjusted his breathing apparatus. “Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.”

The drills weren’t simply practice—they were preparation. With summer in full swing, brushfires and nature blazes were inevitable, and Zane was determined his crew would be ready.

As the sun climbed higher, casting warm rays over the training ground, Zane gathered the team for a debrief. Faces glistened with sweat, their expressions a mix of fatigue and pride.

“Solid work today,” Zane said, satisfied. “Let’s keep this momentum.”

The crew dispersed, some heading for the showers, others lingering near the apparatus bay to discuss the morning’s drills. Zane hung back, following them with his gaze. He took a deep breath, letting the steady rhythm of the day settle into his bones.

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