Page 3 of From the Embers

My mother is behind him, crying and terrified. Abby is still secured in her arms, looking as bewildered as poor Adelaide. “I had to get to them,” I croak as I look behind to see Daryl being carried to safety. But where are the rest of them? Oh, God please let them be alright. It’s then I see Mr and Mrs Wilder coming out the front, Carrie is being carried by a firefighter and Mrs Wilder is crying hysterically. “That’s all I know, Dad. I’m sorry, I just had to get to them.”

Dad blows out a breath and scruffs me over the head, just as Sammy pokes his head out of my shirt and gives me a lick on the face. Maybe it’s his way of saying thanks, I don’t know, but somehow that makes me smile amongst this chaos. Looking up at Daryl’s burning house, now a full inferno, there’s very little else to smile about.

one

Denver

Present day

I’m keen to get out of work today. It’s been a big week of calls and paperwork and I have a night planned that can only end well—at least that’s what I tell myself.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and shake off my damp hair, fresh from the shower I just toweled off from. I give Phoenix and Hank, two of my colleagues, a nod as I walk by.

“Hot date?” Dylan chuckles on my way past.

“Somethin’ like that,” I mutter. Though, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s usually the same ritual, or at least, very similar: I meet a couple of my friends at the bar downtown after work, we have a few drinks, and then I grab some takeout from the corner and go home.

Not exactly ground breaking, but it’s become a weekly routine.

I have a needy cat, Bodhi, and he doesn’t like it if I get home too late. He’s learned to be self-sufficient when I’m not there—in typical feline fashion—but he’s needy when I’m finally home.

I’ve been working for the Chicago FD for the past eight years now, after transferring from the military. Working in rescue the last three of those years has been intense.

I pull long hours, hence Bodhi’s tendency to rub up against me and purring for half an hour when I get home, but I love my job at Firehouse 99.

Luckily Abby checks in on Bodhi every other day, since she lives in the same apartment block as me, and takes him under wing when he needs some love and attention. Which is kind of all the time. I’m never worried when I come home to an empty apartment. Usually there’s a note stuck to the fridge, and if I’m lucky, some leftovers inside.

Dating has been on the backburner with my schedule. It’s hard to get involved with someone when I work all kinds of crazy hours, but I live for it, and my last relationship disaster kinda scared me off women for life.

I love my job. There’s no way I’d ever want to be doing anything else, but it takes its toll. Hence why the end of week drinks are in order, plus, I need some sense of normalcy. Meeting up with Eric and Brax is the kind of normal I need. Daryl joins us when he can, but he’s out of town on business for a few weeks.

He became the lead tech in some computer gaming business. He’s a supernerd. I don’t really understand what he does exactly because it’s too technical, but the two of us have kept a very close bond over the years. I guess saving your best friend, his sister, and dog from a burning house fire sure is bound to leave its mark. It’s not something we often speak of, it’s just kind of there, like an unspoken truth. And maybe it was always meant to be like that, otherwise I wouldn’t be doing what I love every single day. I also wouldn’t have had that ah-ha moment at twelve years old after the blaze was under control and the chaos finally turned to calm.

Sure, my parents weren’t happy with me right then for doing what I did. My mom was shocked and crying hysterically. Dad was a mixture of everything in between, but mainly angry I’d put myself in danger. It was like that for some time after that night. I knew my dad thought I was brave, but some may say it was an act of stupidity. Somewhere deep down I think he was a little proud of me as well.

I couldn’t have lived with myself seeing Daryl up at that window, and Dad was just doing what every parent would do in worrying about me. Dad’s eyes still glaze over to this day whenever he talks about it. And maybe I shouldn’t have done what I did, but even at that young age, it’s just who I was. Who I am. I can’t apologize for that.

When the cool air of the late September evening hits me as I step out onto the pavement, it's a relief to my senses. I spend so much time in the firehouse that I always appreciate the space when I leave. It’s like I’m free for just a little bit. I can escape, in a way, and do what I want without the demands of my job baring down over me.

My sigh meets the crisp, subtle breeze, the same time my stomach rumbles. Maybe I’ll eat at the bar tonight and throw my routine right out the window.

As I look at the trees lining the city street, their leaves awash in different browns, oranges, and greens, it’s safe to say fall is my favorite season.

I’ve traveled here and there over the years, but Chicago is still my favorite place to be. I think it always will be. I love the heartbeat of the city, the way it comforts you in its hold like a long-lost hug you never knew you needed.

I can almost hear my mother’s voice chiming in my ear: “You work too much, Denver, you need to get out more.”

And she’s probably right. I know I need to head home and see my folks, maybe on my next weekend off. They only live an hour away, so I need to pull my finger out of my ass and spend some time with them. I know Mom will also make my favorite pot roast, so that in itself is totally worth navigating traffic for.

I jump in my truck and throw my bag in the back. It’s a little far to walk across town to the bar, especially after a long day.

I’m not a big drinker so getting home is never really an issue for me, and I’d walk home anyway if I felt I’d had too many drinks. My apartment isn’t too far from the firehouse, making it a convenient commute.

I reach Sinner and Saints in no time at all. The minute I open the doors and the live music streams out, the strains of the week seem to fade away, or at least soften somewhat.

I find Eric and Brax pretty quick, in their usual spot at the end of the bar. Brax gives me a chin lift as I approach.

Eric turns to look at me. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” He smiles and gives me a poundhug, followed by Brax. I am a little late from filing the last of the equipment check paperwork.