Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I think I’ll stay, if that’s okay. I’d like to see how this all works.”
Melissa smiles warmly. “Of course it’s okay. Welcome to the life of a firefighter’s . . . friend.” She winks at me, and I feel my cheeks heat again.
The remaining guests continue eating, but some get up and start gathering their things. Especially the ones with younger children. I don’t have anywhere else better to be, so I figure I might as well wait for Jack. I just hope it doesn’t take all night.
I join a group clearing the table and packing up leftovers. As we work, I listen to them swap stories about past Christmases interrupted by calls, emergencies narrowly averted, and the unique challenges of loving someone in such a demanding profession.
As we finish cleaning up, I find myself gravitating toward the large windows at the front of the station. The night is clear and cold, stars twinkling in the inky sky. I wonder where Jack is right now, what kind of emergency he’s facing.
My heart leaps as I spot the red truck approaching. The engines pull into the bay, and a few moments later, Jack and the others file back into the community room. They look tired but satisfied, a thin layer of soot dusting their clothes and faces and the smell of grease announcing their presence.
Jack’s eyes find mine immediately, and he makes his way over. “Sorry about that,” he says, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Just a small kitchen fire. Turkey fryer incident. We have at least one a holiday.”
I reach up to wipe a smudge of soot from his cheek. “I’m just glad you’re back safe. And look,” I gesture to the table where I’ve set aside a plate, “I saved you some pie.”
His face breaks into a grin. “You’re the best, you know that?” He pulls me into a hug, not caring about the stink of grease fire transferring to my clothes.
As we rejoin the group, I notice the easy camaraderie between the firefighters and their families. They slip seamlessly back into the celebration, as if nothing had happened. And I realize that this is their normal—this constant readiness, this ability to switch gears at a moment’s notice.
“Hey,” Jack says, leaning in to me. “Want me to show you around? Show you the bay?”
“I’d love that,” I reply, eager to see more of Jack’s world.
He takes my hand and leads me toward the large bay doors. As we step into the cavernous space, the smell of diesel and rubber intensifies. The massive fire engines gleam under the bright overhead lights, their red paint still wet from the recent call.
“This is Engine Five,” Jack says, patting the side of the nearest truck affectionately. “She’s my baby.”
I run my hand along the cool metal, marveling at the size and complexity of the vehicle. “It’s incredible,” I say. “I had no idea they were so . . . big.”
Jack chuckles. “Yeah, they’re pretty impressive. Want to see inside?”
Before I can answer, he’s already opening the door and offering me a hand up. I climb into the cab, settling into the passenger seat as Jack slides in behind the wheel.
“This is where the magic happens,” he says, his eyes shining with pride. He begins pointing out various gauges, switches, and communication devices, explaining their functions. I try to follow along, but I’m more captivated by the passion in his voice than the technical details.
As Jack explains the intricacies of the fire engine, I find myself imagining him in action—racing through the streets, sirens blaring, ready to face whatever danger awaits. It’s a stark contrast to the man sitting beside me now, his face animated as he describes the truck’s water pumping capacity.
“And this,” he says, reaching across me to point at a small button near the dashboard, “is the air horn. Want to try it?”
I hesitate. “Won’t it be too loud?”
Jack grins mischievously. “Nah, it’s fine. Go ahead, give it a press.”
Tentatively, I reach out and push the button. The resulting blast is deafening, echoing through the bay and making me jump in my seat. Jack bursts out laughing at my startled expression.
“Sorry,” he chuckles, not looking sorry at all. “I couldn’t resist.”
I playfully swat his arm, trying to look stern but failing to hide my own smile. “You’re terrible.”
“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he says, his eyes bright.
Our gazes lock, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged with possibility. I’m acutely aware of how close we are in the confines of the cab, the warmth of his body next to mine.
“You know,” I begin. “I thought we were crossing into friend zone. Before you became WinterWatcher that is.”
Jack reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I most definitely don’t only want you as a friend.”