Page 2 of Things You Save in a Fire

I never backed down from a dare. But I shook my head, like,Not even that, buddy.“I don’t date firefighters. And neither do you.”

“This would hardly be a date.”

I tilted my head. “You’re like my brother, dude.”

“I can work with that.”

I flared my nostrils. “Gross.”

“Seriously. Why not?”

I squinted at him. Was he serious? Could he possibly be serious? I glanced up at the stage. In a few minutes they were going to start the awards ceremony. This was a big night for me. Huge. The biggest night of my career. Did we really have to do this now?

“We work together, man,” I said. I shouldn’t have even had to say it. Firefighters don’t date other firefighters. It’s not just against the rules, it’s against the culture.

He didn’t care. “I’d never tell.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

He gave me a serious, evaluating look. “You need to let yourself have some fun.”

I shook my head. “You’re not my kind of fun.”

He leaned in a little closer. “You never date anybody. How is that possible? It’s such a waste of a good woman. Stop holding back.”

“I’m not holding back,” I said, like we were discussing the weather. “I’m just not interested.”

He glanced down at himself, approvingly, and then met my eyes. “You’re interested.”

I shook my head.

“You’ve thought about it,” he said.

“Pretty sure I haven’t.”

He lowered his voice. “You’re thinking about it now, though, aren’t you?”

“Not in a good way.”

“You need to stop living like a nun,” he said. “What if I’m the cure for all your loneliness?”

That got my attention. I stabbed a carrot in my salad. “I’m not lonely.”

He frowned like I was certifiably insane. “Guess what? You’re the loneliest person I know.”

To be honest, that smarted a little. I pointed at him with my fork. “I amself-sufficient,” I corrected. “I am independent. I am in charge of my own life.”

“You are also in need of some…” He gave a meaningful pause. “Company.”

I refused to take his meaning. “I don’t have time for company,” I said. I had my shift at the station, my second job as a self-defense instructor, ten hours a week of volunteering with Big Sisters, a marathon to train for, and weekends helping my dad build an addition to his house. I barely had time for sleep, much less “company.”

“Whose fault is that?” Hernandez asked.

Was that a real question? “‘Company’ is not a priority for me. I’m not romantic.”

“This is not about romance. It’s about warmth. Connection. Human closeness.”

“Sounds like romance to me,” I said.

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