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She did.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until I open the conversation.

Olivia

I’m glad to hear you like coffee too.

The next message is waiting underneath it.

I also realize I know absolutely nothing about you. What’s your name? How old are you? Where do you live?

Then one more.

Also...I’m really sorry about the wrong number.

A laugh slips out as I shake my head.

Truthfully, if she’d gotten the number right, the last twenty-four hours would’ve looked exactly like every other shift at the fire station. I’d answer the calls that came in, grab whatever sleep the station allowed, and drive home trying to shake the pain, stress, and devastation of it. Instead, I spent more than one moment wondering if she’d text again.

Which was unexpected.

But so was she.

Luke

Luke. Thirty-two. Dallas.

My thumbs find the keyboard again.

What about you, Olivia?

I hit send and set my phone back in my duffel bag, fully intending to head inside before she answers.

The plan lasts maybe five seconds because my phone buzzes.

I look toward the house, then back at my phone, and decide the house can wait another minute.

Olivia

Twenty-seven. Dallas. Coffee enthusiast.

A laugh slips out before I can stop it.

Coffee enthusiast. That’s either a hobby or a personality trait.

I type back.

Luke

Is that the official job title, or one you gave yourself?

This time I force myself to set the phone down. I lean my head back against the seat and let the silence do its work while I wait. After twenty-four hours of sirens, radios, and people needing something, sitting alone in my truck should be the best part of my day.

Funny enough...it isn’t.

The phone buzzes again. I give in again.

Olivia