Free Through the Fire by Shawn Grady

confusion and resignation brimming. But then I saw something I hadn’t seen in Christine for a long time. Something foreign yet familiar. It locked between them like a three-corded rope.
    Trust.
    “Okay.” Greg nodded, tears streaming. He squeezed his wife’s hands. “Okay.”
    Lowell patted my shoulder and motioned toward the door. “Let’s get the gurney.”

CHAPTER
15
    T he rig jostled over the Evans Avenue potholes on our way back to the station. My cell phone vibrated and I flipped off my headset. “Hello?”
    “Aidan, how’s it going?”
    I recognized Blake’s voice. “Hey, man. They keeping you busy enough in Prevention?”
    “Honestly, it’s crazy. How about you? Nothing like a series of fires for cutting short your leave without pay, huh?”
    Nothing like an old friend to hit you where it hurts. “Yeah, thanks.”
    “How’s things going with that? You and old Butcher make up? You like best friends now, or what?”
    I laughed. “Right.”
    “Mauvain knocking on your door, wanting to go fishing and have barbecues?”
    “Man, just shut up.”
    “All right, all right, seriously though. Everything okay? I mean, Hartman and everything?”
    I was tired of talking about it. Tired of thinking about it. “Yeah. You know, I’m actually in the rig right now on the way back from a call.”
    “I got you. Other ears present. Hey, I was actually wondering if we could get together for lunch. There’s something I needed to talk to you about, and I’d feel best if we could meet in person.”
    I had the sensation in my chest that you get on an airplane with a sudden change in altitude. “Oh, okay. Of course. I’m on shift all day today. Can you come downtown? I’m not sure what we’re making for lunch yet.”
    “Right. You just said you were on the rig, too. You know . . . it’s probably better that we meet alone. How about tomorrow morning instead? I’ll buy you coffee.”
    What is he guarding? “Yeah, all right. Just give me a ring around eight.”
    “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    I flipped the phone closed. What was so private he couldn’t risk anyone at the firehouse overhearing?
    Back at the station I hiked the stairs to the third floor. Ben Sower stood in the dayroom talking with Julianne. They were focused in conversation and didn’t notice me.
    Julianne’s voice raised a bit. “It’s great to see you again, too.” She gave Ben a hug and turned for the door, stopping when she realized her path would intersect mine.
    “Still here?” I said.
    She looked down and to the side. “I was just leaving.”
    I didn’t mean it to sound as if she was unwelcome. “No rush. I mean . . . it’ll be lunch soon. You’re welcome to stay.”
    She pulled keys from her pocket and brought her hands together.
    “Thank you. That’s a kind offer. But I do need to get going. There’s a ton of work for me back at the lab.”
    “Right.” I stepped aside. “Of course.”
    She gave me that same polite smile and walked to the stairwell. Even the way she moved seemed familiar.
    “Wait,” I said. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”
    She turned. “I never said we hadn’t.”
    “You didn’t?” I cleared my throat. “I mean, we’ve met before, right?”
    Tones.
    I tilted my head to the ceiling and sighed. She smiled, this time with a hint of friendliness.
    I motioned upward. “It’s never the best timing—”
    “Battalion One, Engine One, Engine Two . . .”
    The dispatcher continued. I put my hands in front of me. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”
    She made a quick wave and turned for the door. I twirled onto the pole, spinning around and seeing, just before I descended, that Julianne was still there watching, biting her bottom lip.
    The smooth cylinder rushed through my hands, my feet braking in time with the floor. Firefighters scattered to their rigs like bugs from a lifted rock. I made it to the back of the cab as Katrina hit the button for the apparatus-bay door.
    She flipped on the rig