Morning came too early. Or maybe the night lasted too long. Zac Hamilton squinted at the sunlight peeking through the blinds, groaning as he pulled the pillow over his head.

Thoughts of the previous evening flitted through his mind, halting any chance of catching a few more minutes of slumber. Rolling over on his back, he replayed the beach party given by some of the volunteers from the fire station. There were a few attractive women in attendance, one in particular he was just beginning to get to know when the call came in, he thought ruefully. Having to leave immediately, he did not even get her number. God, when was the last time I got laid?

Thoughts of her were replaced by the memory of flames dancing against the backdrop of the dark night. His crew was on point, being the first to arrive, but soon after two other fire stations came roaring to the scene as well. As the fire in the old garage was finally extinguished and the other stations left, his volunteers stayed to make sure there were no embers left to catch aflame again.

It had been almost two in the morning when they got back to the station from the scene, where he spent another hour writing up the report while the volunteers cleaned and repacked the equipment.

Fully awake now, he climbed out of bed and padded into his small bathroom. Finishing his business, he stood at the sink, his eyes on his reflection, drifting to the tattoos on his shoulders—one an anchor, eagle, waving flag and USN on a banner over it all and, on the other shoulder, the words Baytown Boys…Never Forget.

A slow smile crossed his face as he thought of the Baytown Boys. They had received the nickname as kids because where you saw one, you saw them all. The name stuck even when they played ball in high school. A group of friends, growing up in the sleepy town on the coast, itching to get away and see the world, all joining military services when they graduated.

Sighing, he lifted his hand, fingers skimming the surface of his tattoo. We saw it all right. He looked over the rest of his body, objectively analyzing taut muscles. As the Fire Chief for the Baytown Fire Department, he kept in shape and busy. Too busy.

The nasty taste in his mouth reminded him of the whiskey he drank when he got home. Just something to take the edge off and help him sleep. He knew that might be a reason but it sure as hell was not a good excuse. A memory of his dad flew through his mind, but he shut that down almost as quickly as it had come. Nope, not going there. I am not my old man.

Brushing his teeth to rid his mouth of the taste, he plunked the toothbrush into the holder harder than necessary. Blowing out a long, slow breath, he flipped off the light switch, moving back into his bedroom to pull on a pair of clean boxers, deciding to shower after breakfast.

Making his way slowly into the kitchen, he headed straight for the coffee maker. No coffee-pod machine for him. He liked it strong and black enough to chase the cobwebs away. He leaned his hip against the counter as he watched the coffee drip into the pot. It hissed occasionally, making him wonder if it was close to crapping out.

After another moment of mind-numbing staring, he shifted his gaze around the kitchen and adjoining living area. Luckily, he had a dishwasher or he was afraid there might not be a clean dish in the house. The refrigerator was old but kept the beer and groceries cold. The stove was new when he moved in, but he was hardly a gourmet chef so all he really needed was a stove eye for a pot or frying pan. He bought the microwave, it being the most used of anything in the kitchen besides the coffee maker.

The apartment was not large, but it was cheap. Very cheap. As the Fire Chief, he was offered the apartment in the attic of the fire station, at the back of the town’s municipal building. Old, but clean, it was a functional place to call home. He snorted…might be plain, but better than the home I grew up in. Wondering where these morose thoughts were coming from, he picked up his coffee and took a sip. Shit! He jumped as the hot beverage burned his tongue, and shook his head in frustration.

Grabbing the frying pan out of the sink, he dropped a pat of butter into it and cracked a couple of eggs. Popping two slices of bread into the toaster and placing four slices of bacon onto a paper towel before shoving it in to the microwave, he turned back to the stove. Scrambling the eggs with a fork as they cooked, he threw on some cheese as he dumped it all onto a plate.

He carried his mug into the living room, walking to the window that overlooked the back of the property. He had no yard, but the neighbors had a neat, fenced-in back yard with a few trees and flower gardens. It was not much to look at, but at least it gave him a view. Turning around, he set his mug and plate on the scarred, wooden coffee table and sunk into the sofa. Those two pieces, plus the flat-screen TV on a stand, a small bookcase, and an end table with a lamp, were the only furniture in the room. He ate at the kitchen counter or on the sofa, not even having a table.

Sipping his now-cooling coffee, he tried to remember the woman from the party the night before, but figured it was better to forget since his life did not exactly lend itself to a relationship. Hell, who needs a relationship? I’d take a quick fling!

After a few minutes, the caffeine and food worked its magic and he dumped the dishes into the dishwasher before moving back into the bathroom to shower. It was one of his few days off from his job and he had some errands to take care of. Grabbing his truck keys, he jogged down the three flights of metal steps on the outside of the building.

An hour later, groceries bought and put away in his apartment, Zac had also paid his cable and internet bill, and hit the post office and bank. Now, he opened the door to Finn’s Pub. Entering the cool, dark interior, he gave a chin lift to Brogan behind the bar.

The pub, owned by two of his best friends, Brogan and Aiden MacFarlane, and their sister Katelyn, was a local icon. Their grandfather, the restaurant’s original owner, retained the look and appeal of days past.  The building had been one of the early structures in the town.  While renovated, it retained much of the original brickwork walls and floor.  The bar ran the length of the right side with tall, mismatched, padded bar chairs up against the counter.  The left held tables already full of patrons.

Aiden walked in from the back, where the kitchens were, and, seeing him, called out his greeting. Walking to the bar, Zac hefted up onto one of the stools.

“What can I get you?” Brogan asked.

“I’d kill for a Pub burger and fries.”

“You got it.” Brogan called a server over and gave her the order.

Aiden slapped him on the back and said, “You look a little worse for the wear. What the hell were you up to last night?”

“God, don’t mention last night.” Seeing the amused look passing between the two brothers, he shook his head. “One of my volunteer firefighters is getting ready to head off to Pennsylvania for a full-time job and a bunch of the others threw him a goodbye bash on the north beach last night. Needless to say, there were some vacationing women out there ready to have fun.”

“Fuck! You didn’t invite me?” Aiden complained.

Brogan popped Aiden on the back of the head and lifted one eyebrow. “What?” Aiden grumbled.

“You,” Brogan said, pointing to Aiden, “stop cussing in front of the customers. And you,” he pointed to Zac, “you’re not going to find anything permanent with someone who’s just here for the week.”

“First off, not looking for that. And secondly, doesn’t matter anyway,” he replied. “We got a call before the night barely got started.”

“Damn, man,” Aiden said, shaking his head. “You’re filling too many shoes over there at the station. When are you going to get some help?”

Saved from having to answer, he nodded toward the server as she placed a plate in front of him, the burger piled high with onion rings, tomatoes, lettuce, and cheese. The pub fries were perfectly crispy and the scent made his mouth water. Taking a big bite after dipping it in ketchup, he chewed in appreciation, before looking up to see his friends still staring at him.

Laying the burger down, he sighed. “Look, Brogan, I get that you’ve found the love of your life. And, so have Mitch and Grant. Not to mention our other friends who’re now part of a couple. But some of us,” he nodded toward Aiden, “haven’t exactly found the one.”

Aiden nodded in agreement, but Brogan leaned forward, his hands planted on the smooth surface of the bar and threw out, “And you thought you might find the one at a party with a bunch of vacationers only here for a week?”

He stopped and heaved another great sigh. “You’re right. I went because I thought it might be fun. I’m not looking for anything else. And if I did find it? Let’s not even go there. But the night ended fucked anyway. Got home about three a.m. and drank to get to sleep. God, that was stupid,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I never do that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Aiden, called to the kitchen by a server, shot him a sympathetic look, leaving him to his lunch while Brogan glowered over him. He ate in silence for a moment then chanced a glance back up, seeing Brogan now staring back thoughtfully.

“You know you’re not your old man,” Brogan said softly.

His french fry stuck in his throat as he sucked in a breath. Nodding as he swallowed, he said, “I know. I guess sometimes I just wonder how far the apple falls from the tree.”

Two weeks later, flames licked the sunset-streaked sky as the firefighters battled the blaze. The small barn sat on the back of an old farm property, about a mile off the main road that cut through the Eastern Shore of Virginia. No other structures were around and, with the barn’s size, it did not take long for the blaze to be extinguished.

Zac jogged back to one of the fire trucks as the hose was being rewound. Pulling off his helmet, he nodded at the volunteer firefighters before moving to the truck from Easton. “Greg,” he greeted, shaking the other Chief’s hand after pushing back his Nomex hood.

“Zac,” he acknowledged. “I just gotta say, I’m getting sick and tired of these fires.” He looked over his shoulder and yelled instructions toward one of his men before turning back toward Zac.

“Just so you know, Greg, I’ve called a meeting of the emergency response team for next week.”

“I saw that email. Totally agree. This shit has got to stop.”

They watched as the county’s fire investigator moved in after getting the all-clear from the firefighters.

“You think they’ll call in anyone else? State Police? Maybe FBI?”

“I don’t know,” Zac replied, nodding at a few of the firefighters around. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happens.”

“Hey, Zac,” a call rang out behind him. Turning, he saw one of the new volunteers, Tad, carrying some of the equipment to stow in the truck. “You think they’ll find anything? Is this like the others?”

Shaking his head, he replied, “Don’t know and we’re not going to make any statements until we do.”

Greg dropped his chin to his chest and grumbled, “Some of these damn kids get too fuckin’ excited about this.”

Slapping him on the back, he grinned, “Yeah, but where would we be without them?”

“Ain’t it the truth.”

An hour later, Fire Station 24’s equipment had been cleaned and stowed and the group was ready to disband, when one of the volunteers called out an invitation to party at his home. His announcement was met with excitement from some of the other younger firefighters and eye-rolls from the older ones.

As Zac was about to exit the building, Tad came running up, his face split into a grin. “Chief, you coming?”

“Nah, not tonight.” He watched confusion cross the young man’s face and added, “I think my party days have come to an end, Tad. But y’all go have fun.”

He stood with his hands on his jean-clad hips and watched the guys jog out to their trucks and SUVs. Shaking his head, he moved to the office to finish logging the call before moving through the station entrance to his apartment.