Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
He pulls a long face and shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “I just thought you should know what you’re up against.”
“Yeah, I do know. Not that every member of this family hasn’t warned me at least fifty times each.”
I have a tendency to exaggerate. Sue me.
I turn on my heel and head into the house, ignoring Alex calling my name.
Inside my mom is talking to one of my sisters-in-law about some toy. “I had the same set of alphabet blocks my mother saved for me. All five kids played with them—long after they were little. It breaks my heart they were all lost in the fire.”
My eyes dart to the burn scars on her forearm and my stomach clenches. I’ve heard this refrain so often over the last ten years but it never gets easier. The gnawing guilt never goes away.
And this is why I’m not giving up. I’m not going to be hazed into quitting.
I had to become a firefighter.
Because me and fire—we like each other way too much. And if there’s anyone who should be running into burning buildings and pulling out kids, it’s me.
I owe the world that much.
Chapter 3
Lia
The alarm sounds through the fire station. My heart pumps as I rush through the steps that training ingrained into me. I pull on my turnouts and step into my boots, faster this time than the last three times. My time is improving.
I climb behind the wheel of our fire truck. There are five of us on the crew, and Blaze assigned me the chauffeur job. I know it’s because he thinks I’m not strong enough for the other jobs. Like I didn’t pass the same firefighter test all the rest of them did.
Which is fine. I’ll show them all soon enough. I put on my earmuffs and start the engine and lights.
“Everyone in?” I’m ready to pull out when I hear a bang on the side of the truck.
“Hold up.” The front passenger door swings open.
Terence, who is sitting shotgun with me, looks up in surprise.
“I’m riding up front.” It’s the captain.
Terence moves immediately and Blaze climbs in beside me.
Damn the man. He’s keeping an eye on me.
I swear he’s put himself next to me on every fire to make sure I can do the job. Or maybe he’s trying to prove I can’t.
Well, if he wants to intimidate me, I’m not going to scare so easily. That’s what all these guys expect. I see the doubt on their faces. No one here thinks I can handle a serious fire. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if hiring me was some kind of equal employment opportunity—or whatever it’s called—some mandate to prove the FDNY isn’t discriminating against females. In which case, my brother was right and this crew probably intends to haze me until I quit on my own.
So far, in the four tours I’ve worked since I started, the guys haven’t welcomed me into their circle yet. Aside from our ill-fated poker game, I haven’t been included in any socializing. Conversations die when I appear. It’s been worse since the poker incident, like now they’re gun-shy about joking with me. My attempts to fit in have failed. I know how guys shit each other. They’re not acting normal around me.
But I’m going to make sure that, in addition to being capable of the job, I can hang with the worst of them.
“You worried I’m going to cry when I break a nail, Captain?” I challenge as I pull out into traffic, siren wailing.
His sensual lips tighten and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Shut up and drive, Burke.”
“Yes, sir, that’s what I’m doing.”
Blaze can be a dick, but that doesn’t stop my raging attraction to him. Too bad I have to pick the guy who seems to want me here the least to drool over.
“Just making sure you can really handle yourself.”
Well. At least I know where I stand. I tip my hard hat to him. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
He surveys me with cool blue eyes, but says nothing.
Whatever.
Even my own family thinks I’m incapable of keeping this job. They never thought I’d land a position in the first place. When I did finally get hired, my mom cried. And they weren’t tears of joy. If it wasn’t for the constant encouragement from my cousin Talia, a journalist and environmental activist in Mapleton, a small town outside Chicago, I probably would’ve given up on this dream.
We pull up in front of an old brick building—a Catholic high school.
Arson fire. Set by a student. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I know the mind of a teen pyro.
The flicker of flames light the windows on a lower wing. The captain directs me to the nearest fire hydrant and I line the truck up perfectly, then jump out and start my job of getting the pump in gear.