The station was alive with noise that night.
The annual charity event brought a different kind of heat—one that wasn’t born from flames or sweat, but from the press of bodies, laughter, flashing lights, and the sound of music vibrating against the night. The firetrucks were lined in a perfect row, gleaming under the glow of string lights draped across the yard. The air smelled of grilled food, summer air, and just the faintest trace of smoke that seemed to cling to everything here.
She had thrown on the off-duty T-shirt with the station logo and her black jeans, tying her hair up in a loose knot. The night was humid, but not unbearable like the last week’s heatwave. She didn’t want to be here. Not really. But charity events weren’t optional, and the chief made sure the entire crew showed
