Page 25 of The Fire Between Us

"You're one of my best firefighters, Davidson. Smart, skilled, reliable. I don't worry about you making rookie mistakes." His eyes narrow. "Which means this wasn't a mistake. It was a choice."

I meet his gaze directly. "Yes, sir, it was."

"Explain."

I consider my words. "When I heard someone might be in the cottage, and that it might be Jennie and her baby, I couldn't... I didn't want to leave it to chance. Grant is a fantastic firefighter, sir, but he didn't know who he was looking for."

"And you did?" Brock raises an eyebrow. "How well do you know this woman?"

"Not well," I admit. "But well enough to know she's been through a lot. That she and her daughter deserve a break."

Brock stares at me. "Are you involved with her?"

"No, sir."

"But you want to be."

It's not a question, and I don't treat it as one. Brock's always had an uncanny ability to see through me.

He sighs, rubbing his temple. "Davidson, I've known you since you were a scrappy teenager sleeping on my station couch. I saw you grow from an angry kid with no direction to one of the finest firefighters I've ever trained. So I need you to tell me the truth… Are you slipping back?"

The words hit hard, as he knew they would. Brock rarely references our shared history, the debt between us that can never be fully repaid.

"I'm not," I say firmly. "This wasn't about acting out or thrill-seeking. It was the opposite. It was about protecting someone who needed it."

"At the expense of protocols designed to keep everyone safe," Brock counters. "Including you, including your team."

"I know," I acknowledge. "And I accept whatever disciplinary action you deem appropriate."

Brock's expression softens slightly. "This woman—Jennie—she must be something special to get past your defenses. You've been keeping people at arm's length since I met you."

I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't.

"If she's managed to crack that wall you built," Brock continues, "she's probably worth fighting for."

The echo of Ethan's words from last night startles me. "Sir?"

"You heard me," Brock says. "But if you're going to pursue this, do it right. No more rebel antics on my fire ground. Clear? I know sometimes it’s hard to keep things separated, and I’d probably run into that fire myself if it were my daughter there, but we have rules for a reason."

"Yes, sir," I reply, still processing his unexpected shift in tone.

"As for disciplinary action—you're off duty for the next week until that shoulder heals and we've had time to review the incident fully. Paid leave, not suspension. And I want you at the training session next Thursday to discuss proper protocol with the new recruits. Use yourself as an example of what not to do."

"Understood, sir."

Brock leans forward, his expression serious again. "One more thing, Davidson. If this woman and her child are important to you, remember that they need stability. Safety. Structure. All the things you’ve been fighting against for a while."

"I know that," I say, an unexpected defensiveness rising. "She has a daughter. I'm not stupid enough to think I can just—"

"I'm not suggesting you are," Brock interrupts. "But I am suggesting you need to be clear about what you're offering. Do you even know if you're ready to be a father figure?"

The question lands like a punch to the gut. "I... no. I have no idea how to be a father. Not with the example I had."

"Then maybe that's something to figure out before you dive in," Brock says, his tone gentler. "Do you even know if this woman is looking for a boyfriend? Or a father for her child?"

"No," I admit. "I don't know what she wants. I'm not even sure what I want."

Brock nods as if I've confirmed something for him. "Then maybe that's where you start. Don't think so far ahead. If you're interested in her, focus on that. The rest will either come naturally or it won't."

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