All that greets me is an envelope with my name on it.
I look around. Still empty, and I’m keenly aware of the need to pull my shit together and make an appearance in the lounge.
But first the envelope.
I rip it open, surprised as all hell to find a handwritten note from Alexandra Dempsey-Cooper, the other female firefighter at Engine 6, and another member of the Dempsey clan.
* * *
Hi Abby,
I’m sorry I can’t be there for your first day but I’m currently laid up at home with ice on my vagina, recovering from the birth of the largest child ever expelled from a human woman. Baby Sean emerged kicking and screaming at 10 lbs 9 oz and almost killed me in the process. (Definitely his father’s son.) But all is well, just as all will be well for you now that you’re on the best crew at the best engine in Chicago.
We’ve never met but I’ve no doubt you’re a tough cookie. You’ve had to work twice as hard and repel ten times the shit because of your gender and maybe even because of the legacy you’ve inherited. Believe me, we understand that at Engine 6. The Dempseys get it and that makes you one of us. Your mom and my dad were heroes to so many of us, and sometimes that can be a hard act to follow.
But have no doubt: you’re going to be fine.
Watch, listen, and learn. It’ll get you far. Roman might seem like a hard-ass (okay, he is a total hard-ass), but he knows his shit even if he is from New Yawk. Not that we make fun of him and his weird accent. Oh no, not at all ;) Luke and Gage will also have your back. (Beck’s in Fire Investigation now and Wyatt spends more time at the Academy, so you’ll only run into them at the bar.)
If you need to talk to someone before I’m back on the job, then don’t hesitate to reach out. All visits in person must include cupcakes, though. Just tell the people at Sweet Mandy B’s that you’re buying for me!
Your sister in fire,
Alex
* * *
Wow. I did not expect that and after the start I’ve had, I realize that I needed it big time. Roman—Lieutenant Rossi—said he ran the best crew, so it’s good to hear it confirmed. And it’s good to start thinking of him as the LT, and not the guy who was supposed to be a sexy reward for me getting through this first day unscathed.
I have no time for regrets. I stash my backpack in my locker, take a deep breath, and head for the lounge.
Seven
Roman
Candidate Sullivan—Abby—leaves my office, taking with her the dregs of my fast-disappearing composure.
I’d barely had a second to school my face to stone when she jackknifed in half and gave Almeida’s boots the benefit of her stomach’s insides. Not exactly how I expected to see her and all that lush red hair again.
And I’d been sure that would happen.
I had every intention of calling her today at lunchtime and asking her out for a date. A real one at a nice restaurant where I pull out her chair and act like a gentleman instead of the beast I devolved to the other night. That kiss, the pie, the whole evening, had given me hope.
One knock on the door was all it took to dash it.
Not only is she one of my crew, a candidate, and a direct report—a triple threat to everything I’m trying to rebuild—she’s also Commissioner Chuck Sullivan’s daughter. I’d been warned by my captain, Matt Ventimiglia, that she was to be assigned here. Rumor has it she and her old man aren’t on the best terms. He doesn’t approve of her joining the service, and who could blame him after what had happened to her mother almost twenty years ago?
But maybe they don’t get along because he’s an asshole. I have my own personal experience with him to confirm that much.
I’d been surprised to hear she was posted to Engine 6, her mom’s old stomping ground but then it sounded like the kind of move some PR wonk in CFD Media Affairs thought would make a good story. Or maybe she asked to be posted here, because it has a special meaning for her, the place where her mom broke the glass ceiling with a Halligan and an axe.
Whatever the reason, I know this much: I do not fucking need it.
Relatively new to Chicago, I transferred in from New York only three months ago. I’m more than qualified—twelve years as a firefighter—and I had to go through a mini-academy to recertify for CFD but I did it all because New York is now scorched earth for me.
Because I didn’t come up through the regular channels in CFD it took time to find my place and gain the trust of my crew. Complicating matters, there’s some lingering resentment because I got the promotion one of the in-house firefighters felt he deserved. No one liked the blow-in.
As an outsider I need to keep my wits about me. Screwing around with the newbie is not the way to make friends and influence people, especially when that newbie is Chuck Sullivan’s daughter.
Just when I thought I’d met someone nice.
Gorgeous.
Hot.
I wipe my brow, the heat of the forbidden creating a fire throughout my body. I could not be thinking those words about Candidate Sullivan. About any worker on my crew. And especially not about the daughter of my boss, who already has me in his crosshairs.
Big boy pants, Rossi. It’s time to face what I will have to deal with for at least a year—if the candidate doesn’t quit first.
I’m scrolling through my collection of game faces when my phone rings. I don’t really want to talk to my ex but I’m determined to start that mature attitude right now.
“Hey.”
“Roman, I need a decision.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m fine, Tori, thanks for asking. So’s your daughter.”
“That’s why I’m calling. I can’t believe you’d refuse to give me this.” She catches herself. “To give Lena this. She should be here at her mom’s wedding.”
I inhale a controlling breath. “Should she? I don’t see why she has to be present. She won’t want to wear a dress—”
“Of course she will! And please don’t pretend that your reasons for preventing her from coming to my wedding are because of your concern about her body image. We both know that this is just you being petty and vengeful over what happened.”
Maybe she’s right.
Maybe I’m a bitter, twisted asshole.
Maybe I don’t care.
But I also know that Lena would hate wearing some pink frou-frou number.
“Can you guarantee you’ll let her choose her own outfit?”
Tori makes a sound of annoyance. “She can wear what the other bridesmaids are wearing. This is my day, Roman!”
And we’re done here. “Sure, I’ve got to go. Work, y’know.”
I can practically hear her eye roll. “Why does everything have to be on your terms?”
She slept with a colleague, made me a laughing stock at my place of work, put in zero effort when it came to fighting for her daughter, and now wants everyone to dance to her tune. Sure sounds like “my terms.”
“Because I’m a selfish prick, of course.”
She sighs dramatically, knowing she won’t get a rise out of me. I stopped playing her games years ago.
“Ask Lena if she wants to come to her mom’s wedding. Her aunts and cousins all miss her.”