There’s something to be said about our memories of the past. They teach us about ourselves in ways others can’t. You can’t learn it. You have to live it.
Those memories will show you a side of yourself you never knew.
People have stories. Everyone does. It’s written all over their faces in every expression and word they give you. Whether it’s your children telling you about the flying dragons in their room or your grandma telling you she once slept with Tom Petty. They’re stories.
Now, whether or not these stories are true is not up to you.
They’re told for a reason. A way to believe in something.
Some stories teach you. Hell, some even warn you. Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood - they all hold meaning.
When the smoke clears, you’ll see exactly what you were fighting for.
Love.
You’re loving like it’s your last chance. You’re kissing like it’s your last kiss, and, most of all, laughing like it’s your last breath . . . because it just might be.
Someone once told me that they would give anything for one more hug, one more kiss.
I understand that now.
WHY IS it that after you have kids your sex life goes to shit?
It doesn’t. It can, but it doesn’t have to.
My thoughts brought me to the one beside me. The same man who used to burn me with unspoken words and a deadly silence, staring at me. He’s not the same in many ways, and I can thank Logan for that. Things are different now. Which is why I said he’s not the same.
We’re not the same.
Life has a way of doing that to you. But I believe some fires burn forever. My love for him burns forever.
“How long has it been?” I asked, looking over at the clock to see that the baby would be up any minute now.
Right now we didn’t have much time.
“An hour, maybe,” Jace groaned, the sound slightly muffled by the pillow over his face. “I know it’s been too fucking long.”
As he rolled over, his breath hit my neck. Covering my body with his, he held as much of his weight on his elbows while he roamed my neck with open-mouthed kisses. My back arched into his chest and he moved down over my collarbone, and lower, between my breasts, moving at a dawdling pace, causing me to whimper in annoyance at his languid loitering. He had no intentions of hurrying through this, but our new black lab puppy was whimpering in the bathroom, Gracie and Jayden were arguing about what they wanted for breakfast outside our bedroom door, and the baby was crying.
“Don’t stop.” He whispered, pleading with me. “Don’t you fucking stop . . . ”
“Never.”
The End.
My girls. You stuck by me even when I wanted to put out this fire and kept me fighting. Thank you.
Emily. It’s been amazing working with you, and thank you so much for being so understanding with my picky side. Great work.
Joy. It was a pleasure to work with you again. Thank you for all the time you put into making my words shine.
Jordan, Henry, Axe, Justin, and Denny. Thank you so much for your help with all the firefighting details. You are brave souls for whom I have the utmost respect.
I chose to tell this story. I chose it because so often we’re lost in life, in love, and we’ve forgotten when we gave our heart in the first place where it would take us. This story is about the journey.
A stay-at-home mom, Chelsea spends her days drinking entirely too much caffeine, baking sugar-sweet treats she never eats, playing on Pinterest and jotting down notes for her novels. A dreamer at heart, she’s been creating happily ever afters. She’s a lover, a writer, a dreamer, would rather type than speak, wants to remember everything, loves lots of ice in her drinks, and is slightly introverted.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, dead or living, is coincidental.
Published in the United States of America
© Chelsea Landon 2014
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Disclaimer: The views expressed by the firefighters in this book are those of the author for the purpose of this story. They are not necessarily the views of the Seattle Fire Department.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Quote
PART I: Oxygen
Chapter One: Charged Hose
Chapter Two: Bank Down
Chapter Three: Accelerant
Chapter Four: Hot Zone
Chapter Five: Tactical Ventilation
Chapter Six: Accountability
Chapter Seven: Well Involved
Chapter Eight: Direct Attack
Chapter Nine: Defensive Operations
PART II: Heat
Chapter Ten: Means of Egress
Chapter Eleven: Triage
Chapter Twelve: May Day
Chapter Thirteen: LODD (Line Of Duty Death)
Chapter Fourteen: Shrouded Badges
Chapter Fifteen: Last Call
Chapter Sixteen: Collapse Zone
Chapter Eighteen: Drafting
Chapter Nineteen: Alarm
Chapter Twenty: Command
Chapter Twenty-One: Apparatus
Chapter Twenty-Two: Backdraft
PART III: Fuel
Chapter Twenty-Three: Defensive Operations
Chapter Twenty-Four: Forcible Entry
Chapter Twenty-Five: Offensive Attack
Chapter Twenty-Six: Primary Search
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Lifeline
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Rescue
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Company
Maltese Cross: Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Designer
Copyright Notice