LITMIR.BIZ

      Ross returned to the station a week after the warehouse fire. He had missed two shifts. The doctor had insisted, despite his arguments. He liked having time to work on his ranch but the interviews for one of the eight Battalion Chief positions were coming up soon and he should be at the station in case there were important visitors. Now that he was back, he needed to concentrate on what was ahead, what he’d planned to do since he was a boy.

      Thankfully the man he’d gone in after was doing okay. He would have a stay in the burn unit but would recover. Just as Ross and his grandfather had. Ross rolled his shoulder, remembering the years’ old pain.

      He’d hated to miss all that time at the station, but it had taken more time to clear his lungs than he had expected. Still, he had saved that man’s life. He didn’t advocate running into fully engulfed houses, but memories of that horrible night when he was young had compelled him into action before he’d known what he was doing.

      Memories of that night washed over him. He’d been visiting his grandpa, who’d lived in a small clapboard house outside of town. He’d adored the old man, thought he could do no wrong. His grandfather had taught Ross how to work with his hands. Shown him how to mend a fence, handle a horse. Most of what he knew he’d learned at his grandfather’s side. His parents had been too busy with their lives to care. So most weekends and holidays between the ages of ten and fourteen Ross could be found at his grandfather’s small ranch.

      The night of the fire, Ross had been shaken awake by his grandpa. Ross could still hear his gruff smoke-filled voice. “Boy, the place is on fire. Get down and crawl to the front door. I’ll be behind you.”

      The smoke had burned Ross’s throat and eyes, but he’d done as he was told. He’d remembered what the firefighter who had come to his school had said: “Stop, drop and roll.” Ross had scrambled to the door but not before a piece of burning wood had fallen on his shoulder. But the pain hadn’t overridden his horror. He’d wanted out of the house. Had been glad for the fresh air. He’d run across the lawn. It had been too hot close to the house. Ross had coughed and coughed, just as he had the other morning, seeming never to draw in a full deep breath. He’d looked back for his grandpa but hadn’t seen him. The fear had threatened to swallow him. His eyes had watered more from tears than smoke.

      Someone must’ve seen the flames because the volunteer fire department had been coming up the long drive. Ross had managed between coughs and gasps of air to point and say, “My grandpa’s in there.”

      The man hadn’t hesitated before he’d run toward the house. Ross had watched in shock as he’d entered the front door. Moments later he’d come out, pulling his grandpa onto the porch and down the steps and straight toward the waiting medics. It wasn’t until then that Ross had noticed the full agony of his back.

      Both he and his grandpa had spent some time in the hospital. They’d had burns and lung issues. His grandfather had been told by the arson investigator that he believed the fire had started from a spark from the woodstove. Ross only knew for sure he was glad his grandpa and he had survived. Regardless of what had started the fire, Ross still carried large puckered scars on his back and shoulder as a reminder of that fateful night.

      Last week, the moment he’d learned there was someone in the house he’d reacted before thinking. His Battalion Chief hadn’t been pleased. Only because the outcome had been positive had Ross managed to come out without it damaging his career. He had been told in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t to happen again. The message had been loud and clear: don’t have any marks against you or you won’t make Battalion Chief.

      It was midafternoon when he was out with the rest of the company doing their daily checkup and review of the equipment that he saw Sal walking to the ambulance. Her black hair was pulled up away from her face and she wore her usual jumpsuit. She glanced at him and nodded. Memories of the look of concern in her eyes and a flicker of something else, like maybe interest, as she’d watched him in the hospital drifted through his mind.

      Ross had known she was Kody’s sister before she’d joined the house. Over the past year they had shared shifts a few times. With him working twenty-four hours on and forty-eight off and her not being able to work the same days as her brother, they hadn’t often been on the same schedule. Still, he’d heard talk. More than one firefighter had sung her praises. A few had even expressed interest in her. They had all reported back that they had been shot down. She wasn’t interested. There was some speculation as to why, but Ross knew, through Kody, that she was a divorcée. Maybe she was still getting over her broken marriage.

      Swinging up on the truck, Ross winced. He had hit something, a door facing or a piece of furniture, on his way out of the burning house. At the hospital they had been concerned with the smoke inhalation and he’d not said anything about his ribs hurting because he hadn’t wanted to be admitted. The pain was better than it had been.

      He checked a few gauges and climbed out again. This time he tried not to flinch.

      Sal came up beside him and said in a low voice, “I saw your face a minute ago. Are you all right? Are you still having trouble breathing?”

      “No, I’m fine. I’m good.”

      She gave him a skeptical look as her eyebrows drew together. “Are you sure?”

      “Yeah.” If he wasn’t careful, she’d make him see a doctor. Did she have that God complex firefighters joked about? The one that went: What’s the difference between a paramedic and God? God doesn’t think he’s a paramedic.

      She scrutinized him for a moment. It reminded him of when his mother gave him that look when she knew he wasn’t being truthful. “You were in pain a second ago.”

      He’d been caught. She wasn’t going to let it go. Had she been watching him that closely? He’d have to give that more thought later. “I have a couple of ribs that were bruised when I came out of the house.”

      “Did you tell them at the hospital?”

      Now he felt like he had when his mother had caught him. Ross gave her a sheepish look. “No.”

      “That figures.” She shook her head. “You firefighters. All of you think you’re superheroes.”

      He

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