by Jaci Burton
The diet some of these morons followed was ridiculous. “Did anyone buy meat?”
Rafe nodded. “We got pork chops and potatoes to mash for tonight’s dinner.”
“Plus fresh spinach,” Mitchell said.
“Sounds good to me. Let’s get out of here before any more boxes of cereal find their way into the cart.”
Ginger Davidson, one of the firefighters, made her way alongside Jackson. “You do realize you can never have enough cereal.”
Since Ginger was nearly six feet tall, he didn’t have to look down to meet her gaze. “Et tu, Ginger?”
She shrugged. “I’ve got four-year-old twin boys at home. We know our cereal.”
He laughed. “I’ll just bet you do.”
They checked out—fortunately with just two boxes of cereal—and loaded the groceries in the truck. Typically they’d leave the grocery shopping up to the ladder crew since they also did most of the cooking, but the ladder team had a fire call first thing this morning. Plus, Jackson wasn’t always fond of their food choices.
When they got back they unloaded the groceries. Jackson went into his office to do some paperwork while the rest of the crew put the groceries away. As lieutenant, he was lucky to get out of some of the more menial chores. Not so lucky was the amount of paperwork that went into the higher rank. He had staffing issues to deal with along with requisition orders for supplies and equipment and coordinating all of that with the two other shifts that worked at Fire Rescue Station 6.
And in addition to his duties as lieutenant, he also had leadership responsibilities. When he’d been promoted to lieutenant he’d welcomed all those obligations, no matter how heavy that load often felt on his shoulders.
He’d come up with a lot of these men and women, had started as a probationary firefighter at age twenty. Now, at twenty-eight, he’d worked his ass off to be where he was. So sometimes he had to be an asshole to the people he called his friends, his coworkers and his peers, as well as his two brothers. But that was just the way it was.
When his dad had first offered him the promotion after their lieutenant had been promoted to captain, it had felt both exhilarating and horrifying. The last thing he’d wanted to do was alienate his brothers, or in any way make them think that Dad preferred one of them over the other. Because Jackson absolutely knew that wasn’t the case.
He should have known better than to worry. Dad had sat down with both Rafe and Kal and told them that Jackson had more experience and had earned the job, and he loved them all equally. And that their time would come.
Neither Rafe nor Kal had an issue with Jackson’s promotion. And they’d all gone out to celebrate the night he’d officially received his lieutenant’s bars.
At home they treated him like a brother, with all the accompanying irreverence, as they should. On the job, they gave him the respect that went with the position.
He couldn’t have asked for better brothers.
Once he finished his paperwork, he came out to the kitchen. Something smelled good.
“What’s for lunch?” he asked.
“Tuna salad sandwiches, kale chips or potato chips, cottage cheese and mango slices.” Ginger slid a sandwich his way.
The ladder squad had returned, so they sat as well. He was hungry so he filled his plate and took a seat at the long dining table along with everyone else. The chatter was nonstop, as always. This was where he liked to listen to his team dig into their personal lives.
First they got a rundown on the call the ladder squad had taken, and then it was a free-for-all of personal convo. Most of them were either married or in a relationship, with the exception of Jackson and his brothers and one of the guys who was in the middle of a divorce. Fortunately, Mitchell Hendricks had a strong family support system that was getting him through the divorce. And though their marriage broke up in a bad way, Mitchell and his wife both loved their two daughters and neither of them wanted to drag their kids into it. Jackson hoped they could work out their other issues and finalize the divorce before either Mitchell or Deb got hurt any more than they already had been.
Then he listened to his two EMTs, Miguel Acosta and Adrienne Smith, talk in roundabout ways about the fact that they absolutely were not dating each other, when everyone in the firehouse damn well knew they were. So that was fun. Uncomfortable for Acosta and Smith, but fun for everyone else to see the two of them squirm.
His team was a pro squad and they never let personal issues get in the way of getting the job done. He knew that whatever was going on with Miguel and Adrienne would stay outside the firehouse. They’d never do anything to jeopardize their jobs. If it did, he’d intervene. Right now he didn’t have to. If it got serious or led to marriage, one of them would have to switch to either another shift or a different firehouse.
He made a mental note to keep an eye on the progression of that relationship in case he needed to step in and have a talk with them. He probably wouldn’t have to. His team was professional. He didn’t doubt for a second that if Miguel and Adrienne got serious, they’d come to him.
His dad never took lunch with the team, because he said he always felt like he intimidated them and they’d clam up. He wanted his lieutenant and captain to take a leadership role and bond with the firefighters, and the battalion chief would just get in the way, so Dad always ate in his office. It took a few years on the squad for Jackson to realize his dad must have the loneliest job in the firehouse.
After listening to their tough-as-nails captain, Kendall Mathias, gush about how his one-year-old little boy had taken his first steps the other day, Jackson got up and took his plate down the hall and knocked on his dad’s office door.
“Come on in.”
His dad was just finishing up his sandwich.
Jackson laid his plate on his lap. “Thought I’d keep you company.”
His father frowned at him. “You think I’m lonely in here?”
“You eat by yourself in here every day.”
“Most times your mother keeps me company.”
“She does?”
“Yeah. We try to synchronize our lunch hours so we can eat together and FaceTime on the phone. Today, though, she has court.”
“Hopefully changing another kid’s life like she helped change ours.”
His dad laughed. “You know your mother. She’s been tirelessly advocating for children as long as I’ve known her.”
And the reason that Jackson, Rafe and Kal had amazing parents. If it hadn’t been for Laurel Donovan’s connections as a social worker, and the way she’d relentlessly advocated for all of them to become a family, first as foster kids and then through adoption, they might never have been adopted by Josh and Laurel.
They got lucky, and not a day went by that Jackson wasn’t grateful for it.
He looked over at his dad, who still looked as robust and young as he had that day fourteen years ago when he’d swept in and scooped a scrawny teenaged Jackson out of that blazing house.
Never one to get close to people, Jackson could still remember clinging to Josh, not wanting to let go of him. Josh had stayed with him as the EMTs had given him oxygen and checked him over.
He’d been tough on the streets, but at that moment, Jackson had been a scared, lonely kid, frightened for his brothers as well as himself.
On the street, they’d managed. In the system and separated, who knew what would happen to them?
Josh had told him he’d be there for him. He’d held his hand and he’d shown up at the emergency room. So had Laurel.
Jackson had told them about Rafe and Kal and how they were brothers—only not related by blood. How they had no one but each other. And how long they’d survived on the streets. Laurel had patted his shoulder and smoothed her warm hand over his cheek and told him not to worry, that she’d take care of everything.
He could still rememb
er the way Laurel had looked at Josh that day in the ER. And Josh had nodded at her and she’d smiled at him.
Laurel had the sweetest smile, the kind of smile that could put anyone at ease.
And then suddenly all three of them had ended up at Josh and Laurel’s house. Foster kids at first. And then the adoption came, and it had surprised the hell out of Jackson. It had also changed their lives forever.
“You falling asleep over there?”
Jackson blinked. “Oh. No. Just thinking about the day I met you.”
His dad smiled. “A bad day that ended up being a good day for all of us.”
That was always how his dad described it. “Yes, it was.”
The alarm sounded, and Jackson got up. He went through the kitchen, dropped his plate into the sink and headed into the vehicle bay. He stepped out of his shoes and slid into his boots and turnout gear, then climbed into the truck. Sirens blaring, they headed out the door.
Jackson studied the report coming in so he could relay it to his team. “Multivehicular accident on I-95. Injuries reported and passengers may be trapped in vehicles. Get your game faces on.”
“You got that, Lieutenant.” Tommy made the turn onto the interstate.
Navigating traffic after an accident was always a pain in the ass. Getting there in a hurry was critical, but Tommy was the best at getting it done. He didn’t let anything or anyone get in his way.
They got to the accident scene in record time. Jackson jumped out to do a quick triage so he could make assignments. First thing they needed to do was rescue anyone who might be pinned inside a vehicle.
“Davidson,” he shouted to Ginger.
“Sir.”
“You and Hendricks check for hazardous fluids and get that cleaned up.”
“Yes, sir.”
There was one upright vehicle with front-end damage. “Rodriguez, bring Acosta and Smith with you and check that other vehicle.”
Tommy gave him a quick shout of acknowledgment.
Jackson was already on his way to the other vehicle lying on its side. “Rafe, you’re with me.”
Rafe quick-stepped up in time with Jackson.
They both crouched down on the driver’s side. The windshield was cracked, but intact. The young male driver was unconscious. He didn’t see anyone else in the vehicle.
“We aren’t getting to him this way.”
“We need to pull out the windshield to get into the vehicle,” Rafe said. “Climbing on top to get to the driver’s side would be too dangerous.”
Jackson didn’t like that idea because there was no way to cover the driver to protect him from the shattered glass. But sometimes there was no best-case scenario. They had to get to the victim as quickly as possible but also immobilize the victim’s neck and spine in case he had a c-spine injury.
Evaluation on the scene had to be done in a matter of seconds. Jackson didn’t have the luxury of time to stand around and ponder the situation.
Unfortunately, in this instance, every solution sucked.
“Let’s get this vehicle upright,” Jackson said. “We need to get inside and stabilize the victim first. Rafe, break into the backseat passenger window and climb in there to stabilize the victim.”
“On it,” Rafe said, darting off to get the ladder.
The clock was ticking. Every second the victim stayed unconscious in that car, there was more of a chance of further complications.
“Evac helicopter has been notified and it’s on the way,” Smith said. “The other victim is stable and a secondary ambulance is already here to transport her.”
He nodded to Adrienne. “Thanks. You and Miguel stand by. As soon as we turn this car over and get the door open, I want you to be ready to extricate the victim.”
“We’ll be ready.”
Fortunately there were plenty of highway patrol officers at the scene to keep traffic away. Miguel had notified the officers that a helicopter was en route, so a landing area had been cleared.
Rafe and a few of the others set up the ladder. Rafe busted the back window and climbed in while the others prepared to move the vehicle back into its rightful position. This involved struts and chain and a lot of man- and womanpower.
In the meantime, Rafe assessed the victim, communicating his vitals to Adrienne.
His vitals were okay. Not great, but manageable and nowhere near the critical stage, which gave Jackson a lot of relief. The victim was starting to come around, which was a good sign.
Rafe attached the c-collar and the team was in place. All they had to do was push the vehicle back enough to get to the driver’s-side door. Then they could pull the door and the roof and get him out.
Now that he was at least partially conscious, Rafe was talking to the injured passenger. No idea if the guy could hear him, but a reassuring voice could sometimes calm an accident victim.
All the pieces were in place.
“Now,” Jackson said. “Start the winches and pull the car.”
The struts and winches did their job and started moving the vehicle, lifting it toward his team, drawing the driver’s side off the ground.
“Slow and steady,” Jackson said, keeping an eye on Rafe, who had shifted to the far side to provide counterbalance to the vehicle.
Once they had enough clearance to get to the door, he halted the winches and they dove in and did the rest of the job, cutting the roof and spreading the door open. After that it was easy to get the driver out in a safe manner. An IV was started, vitals were checked and they stabilized him enough that Jackson felt like the guy would make it. It looked like his leg was broken and who knows what was going on internally, but they got him out of the car alive, and considering what a clusterfuck that accident had been, Jackson called that a win.
Now he could exhale.
By then the medevac chopper had arrived and the victim could be transported to the hospital.
They finished cleanup and loaded the truck, then headed back to the fire station.
“Inventory all the supplies, clean up the truck, and I want to see a report on the rescue truck,” he advised the team. “We need to refill the meds before the next run, so do an inventory for me so I can grab those for you.”
Everyone nodded and dispersed to do their assigned tasks.
Standard procedure upon every return, and they all knew their jobs. He didn’t need to tell them what to do. But it was also his job to tell them what to do.
Jackson, on the other hand, had reams of incident reports to write, so he stopped in the kitchen to grab a tall glass of ice water, then headed to his office, took a seat and started his paperwork.
Kal popped his head in the door. “Heard you had a gnarly rescue.”
“Yeah. Could have been worse. Victim survived.”
“That’s good.”
“How about you? Any action?”
“Yeah. I kicked Vassar’s ass in Ping-Pong four times.”
Jackson shook his head. “How about you spend some time in the training room?”
“Did that, too. Vassar and I checked off on three videos and one virtual training exercise. Then I kicked her ass in Ping-Pong.”
He knew better than to think Kal would waste time. At least not all of his time. “Good.”
“Pressman and Law are cooking up those pork chops,” Kal said. “Should be ready soon. I’ll give you a heads-up.”
“Thanks.”
He went back to his paperwork, burying himself in getting the reports done and signing off on the refill of the meds in the rescue truck. Before he knew it, Kal was popping his head in again to let him know dinner was ready.
At least they hadn’t had another call and he’d finished his paperwork.
The one thing about his job that he liked was that the day went by fast. Even though a lot of that day consisted of filing re
ports and doing paperwork, it was still a job he loved doing.
He’d never thought he’d end up like this. Hell, when he was a kid he never thought he’d make it to adulthood. Yet here he was, taking a seat at the table with his fellow firefighters.
No place he’d rather be.
CHAPTER 7
While the guys were on duty, Becks had spent all of yesterday cleaning the house from top to bottom. Despite how nice the house was, it desperately needed a thorough cleaning. She could tell the guys only did the surface stuff, and she had much higher standards. So she’d swept, mopped, dusted and scoured the kitchen and all the bathrooms. The only thing she hadn’t done was change the sheets on the guys’ beds. They could wash their own sheets. She did notice, however, that they all made their beds, an admirable quality since a lot of dudes she knew didn’t bother.
This morning she got up and grabbed a cup of coffee, then headed to the bathroom and took a nice long, hot shower, letting the water rain down over her. Her muscles were sore from all the scrubbing yesterday so she stayed in the shower longer than she normally would, but by the time she got out, she felt a lot more relaxed.
She combed out her hair and left it wet, put on a pair of shorts and a tank top and went downstairs, intending to drink her coffee and scroll through some of the properties Margie had said she would e-mail her this morning.
She was sitting at the island doing just that when she heard the garage door go up. The door opened and all three of the guys walked in.
“Morning, Becks,” Kal said.
Rafe took a deep breath. “Hey, it smells fresh in here. What did you do?”
She scrolled through the links Margie had e-mailed her. “I cleaned the house yesterday.”
“You really cleaned the house,” Rafe said. “It sparkles.”
“Didn’t know we were that dirty,” Jackson said, his voice low.
She lifted her attention from the list she’d been perusing. “I like a house superclean. Is that a problem?”
He shrugged. “No. But we do scrub things up around here.”
Defensive much, Jackson? “I wasn’t implying otherwise. And I’m sorry if you thought I was.”
