Her Firefighters Calling – Morgan Chase

This is different. This is easy in a way that nothing in my life is easy. Jo: Can I ask you something? Me: Depends on the question. Jo: Today at the station. When you came by with the BBQ. Were you there to see Helena, or were you there to see me? I stare at the screen. My thumbs hover over the keyboard. The honest answer is both.

The more honest answer is that I told Helena I was coming by, and I brought enough food for the whole crew, and I made all the right noises about dropping off ribs and being a good cousin — but I chose not to change out of my bikini top first. I chose to walk into that station looking like myself instead of like a chef, and I knew exactly why. Me: Both. Jo: Both is honest. Me: I’m trying this new thing where I’m honest. Jo: How’s that going?

Me: Terrifying. I don’t recommend it. Jo: Too late. You already got me started. I read that three times. You already got me started. Meaning the supply closet. Meaning “the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Meaning she told me the truth first and now she expects me to keep up. Jo: Still on for tomorrow? My hands still on the phone. There it is — the question we’ve been circling around all night. Tomorrow morning. Her apartment. Coffee and whatever comes after coffee.

Me: Definitely. Text me when you’re heading home. Jo: I will. Then, a minute later: I should probably warn you — I’m going to be exhausted. Twenty-four hours is a long shift. Me: I’ll let you sleep. Jo: That’s not what I meant. Me: What did you mean? A pause.

Then: I meant I might not be at my best. First impressions and all. She’s nervous. I can feel it through the screen — the deflection, the self- deprecation, the preemptive apology for not being enough. She’s been wanting this for twelve years, and now it’s actually happening, and she’s worried she won’t measure up to whatever version of herself she thinks I need.

Me: Jo. Jo: Yeah? Me: You showed up to a Michelin-starred restaurant in a button-down you clearly never wear, barely said ten words, and spent the whole dinner looking at me like I was going to disappear. It was the most charming thing I’ve ever seen. The typing bubble appears.

Disappears. Appears again. Jo: That’s a good line. Me: It’s not a line. It’s the truth. Jo: You keep saying that. Me: Because it keeps being true. Another pause. Then: 7am. Apartment 4B, Maple Street. I’ll leave the door unlocked. An unlocked door. An invitation that specific, that deliberate means more than I know what to do with this late. Me: I’ll be there. Jo: Goodnight, Sloane. Me: Goodnight, Jo.

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Edition: 2026 OceanofPDF.com Chapter One Jo Early morning, 0630, and I’m elbow-deep in hose maintenance when Cap steps out of her office. “Heads up, everyone.” She’s got that tone—not urgent, but pay attention. “Got a call from Battalion this morning. We’re getting a transfer.” Torres looks up from the engine. “Since when?” “Since about twenty minutes ago, apparently. Someone pulled strings.”

Cap shrugs. “She’s on her way. Should be here within the hour. Name’s Ariake. Helena Ariake. Coming from Station 7.” The name hits me like a sucker punch. Ariake. I keep my hands moving on the hose coupling, muscle memory taking over while my brain flips out. It’s a distinctive name. Not common. I only knew one Ariake growing up, and she had a cousin— No. It’s probably a coincidence. Has to be. “Walsh.” Hayes is watching me. Of course she is.

“You good?” “Fine.” I force my voice steady. “Just surprised. Didn’t know we were getting anyone new.” “Makes two of us.” Cap checks her watch. “Rivera, you’re on orientation when she gets here. Show her the ropes, introduce her around. Standard welcome.” “Copy that.” Rivera wipes her hands on a rag.

“What do we know about her?” “Three years at Station 7. Good reviews. Requested the transfer herself.” Cap heads back toward her office. “That’s all I’ve got. Play nice.” The bay settles back into its usual rhythm. Torres returns to her equipment checks, Hayes disappears to supervise something in the back, and I stare at the hose in my hands without seeing it. Helena Ariake. Quiet girl. Sat three rows behind me in sophomore English.

Kept to herself, didn’t talk much, ate lunch alone or with— Her cousin. Sloane. I figured out I was gay because of Sloane Ariake. Figured it out in the middle of gym class, sophomore year, watching her walk past the bleachers, realizing that the tight feeling in my stomach wasn’t jealousy or admiration or any of the things I’d been telling myself. It was want. And that was it.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: b546ea2bc12922a2
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 880,507 bytes (0.84 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 171
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 229.27 minutes
• Total Words: 45,854
• Total Characters: 252,821
• Average Words per Page: 268.15
• Average Characters per Page: 1478.49

Most Frequent Words

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