Page 52 of Ashes of Us
He advanced, slow but deliberate, the hose heavy in his hands. Steam burst up in clouds as he swept the nozzle. His line was clean and controlled. Textbook.
Two minutes later, the flames were gone. Just the hiss of cooling metal and the smell of melted plastic.
"Good work," I said as he shut off the hose. "See? You knew what to do. You just had to trust your training.”
"Thanks, Sullivan." Caleb pulled off his helmet, ran a hand through sweat-soaked hair. "I thought I was gonna screw it up."
"You didn't. Next time you'll be less nervous."
"You think?"
"I know."
He grinned, young and relieved, and headed back to the engine to stow gear.
I watched him go. Nervous kid, but a good kid. He'd get there eventually. They all did if you gave them the space to figure it out.
Volunteering to run the rookie training sessions had been Carter's idea five months ago. Said I had good instincts, that the younger guys responded to me. I'd agreed mostly because it kept me busy, gave me something to focus on besides the gym and therapy appointments.
Turned out I was decent at it. Teaching someone else helped me figure out my own shit. Who knew.
"Sullivan!" O'Brien called from the engine. "You coming or you gonna stand there all day?"
I grabbed my gear and climbed in.
The bayat Station 34 smelled like diesel and coffee when we pulled in. Caleb hopped down from the engine and went straight to hosing down equipment, methodical and careful. He was learning.
I grabbed a rag and started wiping down my gear. O'Brien appeared at my elbow with two cups of coffee, handed me one.
"Kid did good today," he said.
"Yeah, he's getting there."
"You're good with him. Patient." O'Brien took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim. "You thought about what's next for you?"
I looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Just asking." He had that look on his face, like he knew something I didn't. "You've been here almost two years now. Solid on calls. The rookies actually listen to you." A pause. "Seems like maybe it's time to think bigger."
"I'm fine where I am."
"Sure. But opportunities don't always wait around." He clapped my shoulder. "Just keep that in mind, will ya?”
He walked off before I could ask what the hell that meant.
I went back to cleaning my gear, but his words stuck. Leadership. Opportunities. What the hell was he talking about?
The only opportunity I'd been thinking about lately was the opening at Station 47. Engineer, A-shift. A senior role, maybe with my old crew.
Six months ago, I would’ve jumped at it: called Morrison, begged for a shot at redemption, tried to prove I wasn’t the same screw-up who left.
But I wasn’t that guy anymore.
Station 34 wasn’t just a new post. It was a reset, and it was the kind that sticks. I had a crew that trusted me, rookies who actually listened when I spoke. I slept through the night again. Ate three meals a day. And… I laughed sometimes too. It was quiet, steady work, and for the first time in a long time, that was enough.
Going back to Riverside wouldn’t change what happened there. It wouldn’t undo Piper walking away, or make Morrison look at me any different. All it would do is dig up something I’d finally buried.
No. Let Riverside be what it is: a chapter closed.
