Page 14 of Sparks with the Firefighter

We work the flanks in, with boots in the black and hoses dragging. I’ve got a guy up on the line laying a wet edge along the grass while two of the boys go at the ground with tools. Steam and smoke and a sound like a freight train. Somebody's yelling. My throat is raw. My gear weighs a hundred pounds and I don't feel it.

It takes us twenty-five minutes to control it.

Another fifteen to kill it dead.

Then it's just steam, and twelve men standing in a black field. We’ve got our hands on our knees and air in our lungs. I pull my helmet off and the air on my scalp is the best thing I've felt in a year.

And that's when I hear the clapping.

I turn around.

The whole town is up on that slope. All of them. Four hundred people standing shoulder to shoulder along the ridge above the arena, hollering, kids up on shoulders, somebody's flag going.

If there was any doubt left in this town about why we need a station of our own, I think we just settled it in forty minutes flat. Then another thought comes in on top of it, and it's the one that stays.

I hope Vivien was watching.

CHAPTER ELEVEN VIVIEN

He ran toward the danger.

Four hundred people went up that hill and Thoran went the other way. I stood on the ridge with my hand knotted in the back of Drew's shirt and watched a man I have known for a few weeks walk into black smoke like it was a job that needed doing.

Because it was. Because that's who he is. Thoran is a hero. This town needs him. A man like that shouldn't be tied down to anybody.

"Mom." Drew taps on the bathroom door. "It's time to go."

"I know, bud." My voice comes out level. It takes absolutely everything I have. "We'll leave in a minute."

My heart is flapping like a bird against a window as I wait for the results. But deep down, I already know what's coming.

It isn't nausea that gives it away. It isn't cravings either. It's that I have been here before. Two pink lines turned my whole life upside down once already. Now here I am on a Thursday morning, doing it all over again… I think.

Last time, I was determined to do things the right way. We got married. We bought the house. We filled it with all the things I thought we needed. None of it mattered. I ended up with Drew on my own anyway.

At least this time I know what to expect. If I'm pregnant.

In my gut, I already know I am.

I pace the tiny bathroom. Three steps, turn, three steps. I count the yellow tiles behind the mirror and notice the way they meet the ceiling in a crooked line. Whoever laid them gave up somewhere around the third row from the top, but I suppose it adds character. I pick my book up off the back of the toilet. Then I put it right back down without opening it.

It's amazing, the way time can shrink and stretch at the same time when your whole world is about to get rocked.

"Mom, can I eat, then?" Drew's voice punches through the door. "I thought we were supposed to be on the road already. Can I have beef jerky or an apple?"

"Yes. Have—" I press my palm flat against the wood. "Have whatever you want."

A pause. "What about your Trader Joe’s frozen pizza?"

"Sure. Yes. Have whatever."

It comes out nearly a bark, but it works. Drew lets out a whoop of pure victory and I hear his feet pound off down the hall. I let myself slide down the inside of the door until I'm sitting on the bath mat with my knees up.

Then I make a plan. Because that's what I do.

If I'm pregnant, I am not pushing Thoran into anything. I did that once. It doesn't get you anywhere.

Drew's father telegraphed his indifference from the very first week. It didn’t stop me from spending nine years trying to convince him to be a dad, a husband, a partner, or at the very least a friend to me.