“Nice work, Deuce,” Davis shouts over to me after pressing down on the stopwatch. He’s been timing a few of us on some of the more complicated drill moves. “You just blew past everyone’s time on the ladder drill by one point six seconds.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” I answer.

I’m only rushing through these drills so I can get to the bottom of what Dawn might be up to. After the nights we spend with Ember, she should be the only thing on my mind. But knowing that Dawn fell off the radar, I’m sure she’s up to her old tricks. Her silence hangs over me like a dark cloud, ready to burst and bring more chaos and disorder into my life.

I pick up the hose from the pavement. We’re on the west side of the firehouse, so even though it’s the middle of winter, the sun beats down on us as we stand out here in forty-five pounds of firefighter gear. From the corner of my eye, Hammer comes out of a side door and stands there as though waiting for one of us to look his way. When Davis says it’s time to pack it in, Hammer saunters over and pulls me aside.

“She’s free all day tomorrow,” he says in a low voice.

“Okay.”

Hammer shakes his head. “Don’t do this, man.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You do this every time, dude.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him.

“I can tell you’re ready to turn tail. The second a woman is really into both of us, you want to bolt.”

“We’re talking about Ember here. She’s not right for us.”

Hammer’s jaw clicks as he glares at me and waits.

“Okay, she might be right for us,” I admit. “But look around. Check out where we are. I’m not saying I don’t want her. I just want us to be careful. We have the chief on one side, and the threat of Dawn going hell-bitch on the other. Shit’s way too complicated as it is.”

“Says the man who only wants Ember for sex.”

“That’s not true. I handed over the bracelet, didn’t I?”

Hammer tilts his head and looks at me like I’m missing some obvious point.

“Whatever it is, keep it to yourself,” I tell him. “Boss man’s on his way over.”

Davis makes it to about ten feet from us but doesn’t get a word in. Another emergency call sounds out over the PA system and through Davis’s radio, announcing a motel fire on a street about two miles away.

It’s boots running across the pavement as Hammer and I fall into step right behind Davis to get to our truck. At the moment, there are more important things to deal with. More important and also simpler. Being a firefighter can be one of the purest jobs around.

Run toward the danger.

Save people first.

Reduce damage to property.

Be ready to die.

Accept that not all of us who go in are sure to get out alive.

Other than working my ass off to be the best possible father to Sandy, everything else in my word is riddled with complexities. And relationships are right at the top of the pile. Sure, Ember seems different. The more time we spend with her, the more we enjoy where things are going. But then we get the constant reminder.

We’re temporary.

We have to keep it a secret.

Beyond passing over my bracelet, I can’t see us having a future. So why torture myself by entertaining something that won’t ever happen? I’m not that interested in picking up this conversation where Hammer left off later, but I can tell he won’t give it a rest. As soon as he brings it up again, this is the logic I’ll need to drill into his thick skull.

We enter the garage and step into our gear like the rest of the teams are doing. My mind stills. It always does once a call comes in. The world blurs. Nothing exists but the path to whatever emergency we’re dealing with. Everyone gets on their assigned vehicle, our trucks roll out, and minutes later, we’re parked outside the L-shaped structure, ready to assess the long stretch of rooms and the smoke curling up into the sky.

Wind speed’s an issue today. The smoke twists around itself like a tornado, reaching high above the trees. Adrenaline pumps through my body. The pounding in my ear is deafening, but it’s how it is every time I come face to face with a fire or emergency situation.

A motel clerk runs over to the truck and informs Davis that there may be people still in their rooms. People who may need our help. Once we have a sense of what we’re up against and get our orders, I’m back to that calm contained focus on hauling ass and doing my job.

A middle-aged woman runs out from a narrow walkway and frantically points back at where she came from. “I saw someone start it! A redhead. She threw something in through that window over there!” she shouts, pointing at the area where thick dark smoke is billowing out.

Another guy hurries over from the crowd that’s forming. “This lady’s right. I saw it too. The redhead drove off in a blue and white Camaro afterward.”

Hammer subtly taps me on the shoulder, but he doesn’t need to. I’m already reeling.

Red hair, and a blue and white Camaro.

It has to be Dawn.

But if it’s true, do I tell my lieutenant that they’re talking about my ex-wife?

“Let’s get this fire subdued,” Hammer says. “We can tell him about Dawn during the debrief.”

“Fine. And I’ll get ready for the ‘I told you so’ lecture.”

The motel clerk confirms that no one booked the room where the fire was started. It’s vacant. Unsure of the number of hotel patrons, visitors and workers still in the hotel, Davis assigns most of us to clear each room, puts a couple on hoses, and sends two to the back of the building to vent the room where the fire started.

As I head off with the clearance team, I try to push Dawn from my mind, but a nagging question plays on repeat.

If Dawn really did it, and if she started this fire to get us here, why did she leave?

Is this a trap for me? Is it meant to keep me here while she does God knows what somewhere else?

I don’t like the answers that my mind keeps giving back to me.