Chapter Ten: The Life Between Alarms
1348 Words
Gavin called the next morning exactly when he said he would.
Sophie’s fever had gone down. It was only a virus, nothing serious, but he had stayed until she fell asleep.
I listened while he described how she refused medicine unless it came in the pink cup and how Eli had tried to convince her that firefighters couldn’t get sick.
There was warmth in his voice when he talked about them.
I had expected jealousy.
Instead, I felt something softer.
Hope, maybe.
If he could love his children that much, perhaps one day there would be enough room for me too.
“I’m sorry I left so quickly,” he said.
“You should have gone.”
“I know, but I promised you the night.”
“You’re their father.”
The words came easier than they would have a week earlier.
Gavin went quiet.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just wish you could always be like this.”
“Like what?”
“Understanding.”
The compliment should have felt good.
Instead, something about it made me uneasy.
As if understanding meant never asking him to choose.
Before I could question it, he said, “Come to the station tonight.”
“Again?”
“I’m cooking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“I’m better when electricity is available.”
“Debatable.”
He laughed.
The sound softened the small knot in my chest.
“I’ll make enough for everyone,” he said. “You won’t be showing up just for me.”
That was supposed to make the invitation safer.
It also reminded me that I would still be introduced as nothing more than Harper.
But I agreed.
---
The station kitchen was louder than the restaurant had been.
Marcus argued with Captain Walsh about whether Gavin’s sauce needed more salt. Someone had left a loaf of garlic bread in the oven too long, and the smoke detector chirped until Cole climbed onto a chair and removed the battery.
“That feels illegal,” I said.
Cole glanced down at me.
“Call the fire department.”
Marcus laughed from the stove.
Cole didn’t.
But the corner of his mouth moved before he turned away.
It was the closest we had come to a peaceful conversation.
Gavin placed a wooden spoon in my hand.
“Stir.”
“I thought you invited me to dinner.”
“You’re part of the labor force now.”
“What am I stirring?”
“Sauce.”
“I can see that.”
“Then why did you ask?”
I dipped the spoon into the pot and tasted it.
“It needs salt.”
Marcus pointed at me. “Thank you.”
Gavin took the spoon away.
“You’re both banned from my kitchen.”
“This isn’t your kitchen,” Cole said from the table.
Gavin looked at him.
For a second, the easy mood shifted.
Then Marcus threw a dish towel at Cole’s head.
“Stop helping.”
Cole caught it without looking and tossed it back.
The tension disappeared beneath laughter.
I watched Gavin move around the kitchen.
He belonged there.
Not in the physical space alone, but among the people inside it. They insulted his cooking, stole food from the cutting board, and knew which stories would make him laugh before they reached the ending.
I knew pieces of him.
They knew his habits.
The difference bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
Gavin noticed me watching.
He crossed the kitchen and handed me a glass of soda.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
“Maybe I’m wondering why you never cook for me.”
“I tried.”
“You attempted pasta during a power outage.”
“That counts.”
“It absolutely does not.”
He leaned closer.
“I’ll cook in our kitchen.”
The words were quiet enough that no one else heard them.
Warmth spread through me.
Four more weeks.
I had started counting the days.
We ate at the long table while the television played quietly in the background. The conversation moved too quickly for me to follow all of it.
Old calls.
Station pranks.
A lieutenant everyone disliked.
I mostly listened.
Cole sat across from Gavin, eating without speaking much. Every so often, his eyes moved toward us.
Not constantly.
Not like a man watching for trouble.
More like someone noticing a crack in a wall and waiting to see whether it spread.
After dinner, Gavin and Marcus were sent to check supplies in the bay. Captain Walsh disappeared into his office.
I carried plates toward the sink.
Cole was already there.
“I can do that,” he said.
“I know how to wash dishes.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
“You usually imply something worse.”
He took a plate from my hand.
“I’m off duty from judging you tonight.”
“That must be exhausting.”
“It is.”
I looked at him, unsure whether he was joking.
His expression gave me nothing.
We worked in silence for a few minutes. I washed. He dried.
It almost felt normal.
Then Cole said, “You look happy.”
I kept my eyes on the sink.
“I am.”
“Good.”
The answer surprised me enough that I turned.
“You mean that?”
He folded the dish towel over the counter.
“I don’t want you miserable.”
“You just want me gone.”
“I want him to stop hurting people.”
“He isn’t hurting me.”
Cole’s gaze settled on my face.
I expected an argument.
Instead, he nodded once.
“All right.”
The lack of resistance annoyed me.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Something insulting about how stupid I am.”
“I think I’ve been clear about my opinion.”
“There it is.”
“But you’re going to do what you want anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Then repeating myself would only waste both our time.”
I placed another plate in the rack.
“You could try believing him.”
Cole looked toward the bay.
Gavin’s laughter carried through the open door.
“I did once.”
Before I could ask what he meant, the station alarm sounded.
Chairs scraped.
Doors opened.
The easy atmosphere vanished.
Gavin ran into the kitchen and grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Warehouse fire.”
Cole was already moving toward the bay.
Gavin stopped long enough to touch my waist.
“I’ll call you when we’re back.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
He kissed my temple.
Then he was gone.
I followed as far as the edge of the bay.
The crew pulled on their gear with practiced speed. Cole climbed onto the engine beside Gavin. Their earlier tension no longer existed.
Whatever they thought of each other’s choices, they trusted each other with their lives.
The engine doors closed.
Red lights washed across the walls.
Then the siren rose, and they disappeared into the night.
Captain Walsh’s wife had told me people learned how to wait.
I stayed at the station for almost three hours.
When the engine finally returned, every man climbed out.
Gavin was tired and covered in soot, but he smiled the moment he saw me.
“You stayed again.”
“I told you. I’m good at waiting.”
He pulled me into his arms.
It wasn’t a hidden touch this time.
Marcus walked past us without reacting. Captain Walsh only told Gavin to finish his report before leaving.
Even Cole said nothing.
For a few seconds, I let myself believe this was how our life would be.
The alarm would sound.
Gavin would leave.
And I would always be there when he came back.
I didn’t know that waiting only felt safe when the person you loved returned.
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