𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The bay doors were still halfway open, early morning light spilling in as I ran the checks on the ladder truck. It was quiet, calm—the kind of morning that gave you a false sense of security.

The calm before the chaos. My boots echoed against the concrete as I double-checked the hose connections and moved around the back to inspect the compartments.

"Morning looks good," Caleb called from the other side of the engine. "No issues so far."

I nodded, crouching to check the stabilizers. "Yep. Smooth start."

There was a beat of silence, just the low hum of the engine and a few murmurs from the rest of the crew milling around. Then I heard him again, closer this time. "How's Madelyn?"

I glanced up. Caleb had that look—eyebrows slightly raised, arms crossed like he was trying to seem casual, but the way his eyes locked on me said otherwise.

I straightened slowly, brushing dust off my gloves. "She's fine."

Caleb tilted his head. "That's not what I asked."

I sighed and leaned back against the truck. "I don't know, man. We're... off. Still."

He didn't say anything. Just waited.

"We had a fight last night, you know," I muttered. "Well—technically the fight's been ongoing. But last night it came to a head."

Caleb let out a low whistle. "Yikes. That's why she looked like she was fighting back tears when we left?"

I scrubbed a hand over my face. "She had every right to be upset."

"What happened?" he asked, voice gentler now.

I hesitated. "She said I've been shutting her out. That I don't let her in when things get hard. And... she's not wrong. I just—everything's been piling up. The media shit. That video. The way they talk about me like I'm some violent psycho. I didn't want to burden her with all that."

Caleb let out a dry laugh. "Newsflash, you kinda did anyway."

"I know."

He walked a little closer, resting one arm on the truck. "Look, I know you better than anyone. I know why your walls are up. I know why you freeze instead of speak, why you shut down when it gets too close. But Madelyn? She's not trying to hurt you. She's trying to love you. The way you've always wanted to be loved."

I looked down at my boots.

"She's your forever, Y/N," he continued, quieter now. "You know that. Hell, Storm knows that. You've got this whole life you never thought you'd have—and you can't keep holding it all at arm's length."

"I'm not trying to," I said quietly. "I'm just scared I'll mess it up."

"Newsflash number two," he said, nudging me, "you're already messing it up by not letting her in."

I let out a breath, my head tipping back against the metal of the truck.

"I'm gonna talk to her tonight," I said. "When I get off shift. I have to. We can't keep doing this."

"Good," Caleb nodded. "She deserves to hear it. Not just the 'I love you's' when things are good, but the real shit. The hard stuff."

I nodded slowly, the weight of it settling in my chest. "I know. I owe her that."

He clapped my shoulder. "Then don't wait. You've got a good thing. Don't let silence ruin it."

We stood there for a few seconds, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. Then I straightened up and grabbed the final inspection sheet, signing off.

"Alright," I said. "Let's hope today doesn't try to kill us."

Caleb smirked. "That's the spirit."

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐧'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Storm was twirling in the middle of the living room, wearing my oversized sunglasses and the towel still wrapped around her head like a crown.

"I look like Beyoncé, right?" she asked, striking a pose with one hand on her hip and the other behind her head.

I grinned, sipping from my coffee. "You look like Beyoncé's cooler, sassier little sister."

She gasped dramatically. "Say less!"

It had been a weird morning. Quiet. Heavy. The kind of quiet that makes you think too much. But with Y/N gone for the day and Caleb at the firehouse too, I wanted to make sure Storm didn't feel any of the weight still hanging in the air. So I declared it a "girls' day". No stress. Just fun.

Our first stop was the grocery store. We both hated it, but it was necessary, and we figured if we wore matching sunglasses and playlists blasting in the car, it'd feel less like a chore and more like an errand run from a romcom montage.

Storm took full control of the cart the second we got inside.

"I'm the driver," she announced. "You're the passenger princess."

I raised an eyebrow. "That makes me nervous."

"You should be."

She whipped around the produce section like it was a racetrack, nearly taking out a pyramid of apples before I gently steered us back on course.

"Let's try not to get banned from Trader Joe's," I laughed.

Storm shrugged, tossing a bag of popcorn into the cart. "Live fast, snack hard."

Once we were back home, we threw groceries into the fridge, turned on music, and turned the bathroom into a makeshift spa.

I pulled out a couple sheet masks and some sparkly nail polish I'd forgotten I owned. Storm was curled on the floor in a hoodie twice her size, carefully painting her toenails with absolute concentration.

"You're doing great," I told her, watching her stick out her tongue as she tried to stay inside the lines.

"You sound like a preschool teacher," she muttered. I chuckled. "It's the only tone I have when someone's doing something with glitter."

She looked up at me suddenly. "Do you think Y/N would let me dye a streak in my hair? Just one. Like Billie Eilish green. Behind my ear or something."

My eyes widened. "You're twelve."

"Exactly. Practically grown."

I shook my head, but I was smiling. "You'll have to take that up with your sister. But if you ask real nicely, she might just cave."

"Or I'll wear her down until she's too tired to say no. Or, I can just get you to ask, she rarely ever says no to you."

"That also sounds right."

We spent another hour on face masks, baking boxed brownies, and playing a makeshift fashion show with clothes from my side of the closet that Storm insisted on trying on.

"You could totally walk a red carpet in this one," she said, spinning in one of my bodycon dresses that fell almost to her ankles.

"I did," I said, sitting back on the bed. "Last year. You FaceTimed me during it because you wanted to show me your slime."

Storm blinked. "That tracks."

Around 4pm, Lili texted that she and Carlacia were stopping by. Storm immediately ran to brush her hair and "fix her vibe," as she put it.

I pulled my hair into a loose braid and changed into soft joggers and a tank, still feeling the faint ache of earlier in my chest, but also a little lighter now.

Lili and Carlacia arrived with reusable shopping bags filled with stuff for dinner and a bunch of things they found at Target "accidentally."

"Target attacks me every time I walk in," Lili announced dramatically. "Like, what is this fuzzy flamingo pillow I don't remember picking up?"

"It's hideous," Carlacia said, already holding it like it was a newborn.

We sat in the living room with snacks spread between us, a movie half playing in the background while Storm showed them the TikToks she'd made that day and told them how I let her try on my "cool girl" boots.

"You're officially in your Madelyn era," Lili told her.

Storm threw a peace sign and winked. "Y'all aren't ready."

For a while, things felt normal again. Light. Easy. The parts of my life I loved the most all in one room. But I still hadn't heard from Y/N.

I kept glancing at the clock. Every hour that passed without a text from her made the silence between us stretch a little more taut. We usually texted throughout the day while she was working.

I didn't want to be the one to reach out—not after this morning. I needed her to want to talk. To come to me this time.

"Earth to Madz," Carlacia nudged me with her elbow. "You zoning out or writing dramatic poetry in your head?"

I shook my head, smiling weakly. "Just thinking."

"About your emotionally constipated girlfriend?"

"Pretty much."

She softened, squeezing my hand. "She'll come around."

. . .

𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The engine bay echoed with the usual hum of late afternoon shift change — boots clanking on concrete, faint music playing from someone's speaker, the soft hiss of an air compressor refilling after a morning drill.

Caleb tossed me a rag, grease on his cheek and a half-eaten protein bar in his other hand. "You check the compartment seals on Ladder 6?"

"Already did," I said, wiping my hands on the towel as I finished my round on the engine. "No leaks. Hose couplings are tight, gauge reads clean."

He gave me a nod, then leaned his hip against the side of the truck and took a slow bite of his bar, chewing with that look that said I'm gonna ask something that's not about the rig.

I didn't say anything. Just waited. "So are you at least going to text her and not look like a dumbass who doesn't care about their relationship or????"

There it was. I sighed, tossing the rag onto the workbench and wiping my palms down the thighs of my pants. "Define text."

"Define avoidance," Caleb shot back, eyebrow raised. I didn't answer right away. The weight of this morning — her voice, her eyes, that kiss that felt like goodbye — all of it was still pressing down on my chest like a damn cinderblock.

"Like I said before, we talked," I said eventually. "And we didn't."

He gave me a look like he could see straight through that answer. I leaned against the bumper of the engine, arms crossing over my chest. "I told her I loved her. That I still want to be together. She said it doesn't feel like it."

"Is she wrong?" he asked, not even flinching. I rubbed my jaw, staring at a stain on the garage floor. "I don't know how to explain it, man. I never mean to shut her out. It's just... how I've always been. When shit gets messy, I retreat. I compartmentalize. It's survival."

Caleb nodded slowly, folding his arms too. "You have someone who doesn't just see you," he continued, "but wants all the parts you try to hide. And that's not common. That's not luck. That's what people spend decades searching for, trust me, when I stopped being a dumbass and allowed myself to fully be with Lili, it was the scariest yet best thing I could've ever done for myself."

I nodded, jaw clenched. Caleb softened. "Again, don't shut her out. I know it's hard to unlearn shit, but you've got to meet her halfway. She's not asking you to be perfect. She's just asking you to be real."

I nodded again. "I know."

"You should text her soon,"

"I have to," I said quietly. "I can't keep doing this to her. I won't. I need to fix it."

There was a long pause. Just the low drone of the fan overhead and the distant chatter from the kitchen.

Then Caleb clapped me on the shoulder. "Good. 'Cause if you fuck this up, Lili and I are both kicking your ass."

I smirked. "Fair."

We were halfway through laughing about it when the bay alarm went off. The lights above us flipped red and started spinning as the tones blared through the overhead speaker.

"Respond to a two-alarm structure fire. Residential. Possible rescue. Dispatch confirms smoke showing, occupants unaccounted for."

"Shit," I muttered, already pulling on my turnouts. Caleb's face shifted instantly—jokes gone, eyes locked in. "Let's move."

Gear hit bodies in seconds. Gloves, helmets, masks, radios. Everything muscle memory. I slammed my locker shut and jogged toward the ladder truck, adrenaline spiking already.

"Let's roll!" Lieutenant Ramos shouted, climbing into the front.

I jumped in beside Caleb, the others loading in behind us. The siren wailed as we peeled out of the station, tires screeching on asphalt, and I let myself slide into the focus I knew best.

My personal life could fall apart later. Right now, I had a job to do.

. . .

"Hall's clear!" Caleb's voice came through the comms. "No victims in Units A through D. E and F are still in play."

"Copy," I said, swinging open the door to F.

The heat punched me in the face the second I crossed the threshold. The air was thick, unbreathable even with my mask.

Smoke curled through the hallway like it had claws. I kept my axe low, sweeping room to room, checking under beds, closets, calling out.

"Fire Department! If you can hear me, shout!"

Ben was behind me, scanning the opposite side of the hall. I saw the nervous twitch in his shoulders—too much hesitation in his step.

"You good?" I called, voice muffled through the SCBA.

"Yeah!" he shouted back. "No civilians over here."

"Keep your radio on. Watch the ceiling," I warned, pressing forward.

Two more rooms clear. Empty bed. Broken window. A half-burnt teddy bear on the floor that made my stomach twist.

And then I heard it. Faint. A sob. Small. Barely audible beneath the roar of the fire. But there. I whipped my head around, zeroing in on the direction. It had come from Ben's side.

"Ben! You sure you swept the second left?"

"Yeah, I—" He stopped. His voice faltered. "I think so—wait—"

"Shit." I turned and crossed over, yanking open the warped door on the left side. The crying got louder.

"Kid in here!" I shouted. "Small bedroom! Far corner!"

A little boy, maybe five, curled up behind a dresser. His cheeks were streaked with soot, face red from heat. Eyes wide with terror. "I got you," I said instantly, kneeling. "Hey, I got you, buddy. You're gonna be okay."

He shook his head, coughing, terrified. I glanced over my shoulder. "Ben! I need a clear path out of here! Start blasting with the extinguisher!"

"I—I left it down the hall—"

You've got to be fucking kidding me. Rookie.

"Then go get it! Now!"

He scrambled, fumbling. I turned back to the kid, checking him over quickly. No visible injuries, just scared and heat-exhausted. I pulled my mask off, slid it gently over his face. "You're gonna wear this, okay? Deep breaths."

The amount of smoke in here and the heat, I knew he needed clean air and fast. There was no telling how much soot was on his lungs already.

The hiss of air filled the silence. I adjusted the straps on him, then bent to lift him.

"Ben, frame check! Is it stable in here?" I called.

"Yeah!" he called back. "We're good—"

But he didn't sound sure. And two seconds later, I knew why. The floor groaned beneath us. The ceiling above cracked with a sound that made my gut drop. Then it gave way.

"BEN!" I shouted just as part of the ceiling caved in near the entryway.

There was a loud crash—then silence. Smoke, dust, debris. And then the shrill beeping of a PASS device. "Ben—Ben, answer me!"

I set the kid down gently, keeping the mask secure on him. He was crying now, full sobs behind the air hiss, coughing in between.

I turned and located Ben, half-buried under broken drywall and burning insulation. The beam hadn't crushed him, but it hit hard.

I scrambled over, dropping to my knees. "Ben, hey! Stay with me—Ben!"

No answer. His PASS device screamed louder. I yanked his mask up—his eyes were rolling, unfocused. I slapped his cheek once—twice. Nothing. "Come on, rookie. Don't do this. Hey!" I shouted. Still nothing.

I leaned in and did a hard sternum rub with my knuckles. His whole body jerked, and he coughed. "There we go. Come on, kid. Up!"

I slid my arm under his and started dragging him up. "You with me?" I asked, already reaching for the kid again. Ben nodded weakly, getting his feet under him.

"Good. Grab that wall. Stay close. Don't freeze. You move when I move."

Smoke was everywhere now. My vision narrowed to shadows and orange flashes. I adjusted the mask tighter on the kid, cradling him against my side while dragging Ben toward the hallway.

And then it happened again. The floor behind us cracked—another crash—something came down hard. "Shit!" I shouted, twisting my body around to cover them both. My shoulder caught the brunt of it—wood, plaster, maybe part of the ceiling joist. Pain shot down my side, but I didn't stop.

"You okay?" Ben gasped. "I'm fine—keep going!" I lied, my whole right arm throbbing. My lungs burned. The kid's body was going slack in my arms. I adjusted my grip. My mask was gone—he was still breathing through it—and I had nothing left.

But we kept moving. Down the stairs. Through the main corridor. I didn't even realize we were outside until the cold hit my sweat-drenched face like ice. "Two coming out!" someone shouted.

Caleb. I saw him through the smoke—helmet off, eyes scanning frantically. "Y/N!" he sprinted over, helping me lower the kid gently. EMTs rushed in.

Ben collapsed to his knees beside me. I handed the mask off. "Get them checked!" I called.

"You okay?" Caleb asked, hand on my shoulder. "Yeah. Just—" My legs wobbled. My chest heaved. "Just need a second."

The medics moved to help Ben and the kid. I stepped aside, waving off another aid worker.

"I'm good," I said again. "I just—"

The world tilted. Caleb's voice blurred into static. And then everything went black.

A/N: Thoughts? Figured I'd give another update since I went MIA for a few weeks!