The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  The alarm sounds, but it’s only for EMS, so Debbe and Ryan leave their lunch on the table and take off.

  “I’m really happy to be here, guys,” Noah says.

  Brett stands up with his dirty dish and pats him on the back. “Let’s hope you still feel that way in a week or two,” he says with a sarcastic grin that has Noah looking a little green around the gills.

  Lieutenant Brett Cash is second-in-command here. He’s on Squad with Justin, Cameron, and Miles. They go on a lot of the same calls as my engine company, but in addition to everything we do, they also deal with heavy extrications and entrapments.

  “Come on, Squad, let’s go gas up the rig,” Cash says.

  The four of them finish their lunch and head out. Any time one of our trucks goes anywhere, the entire team has to gear up and be ready for a call. It’s the nature of the business. If one of us needs to go to headquarters to be questioned about a report, or if we want to check up on an injured colleague, we all go. We are together with our team the entire time we’re on shift. We know each other’s business better than our mothers, girlfriends, or wives do.

  We are family.

  And Noah August is now part of that family. I finish my lunch and hand him my plate, just because I can. “Welcome to the jungle, Auggie.”

  I head up to the bunk room, hoping to get an hour or so of shuteye, but all I can think about is Ivy. She’s coming back in a few days. I wish I could be there to welcome her home, but I can’t. I’ll be on shift. And I’ve used up all my favors for a while.

  I can’t wait to see her again. She sounds good when we talk. Happy even. And it makes me relieved to think that whatever she went looking for when she went to Hawaii, she found. I just hope that whatever is me.

  “Briggs,” Noah says from over the partition that separates our bunks.

  “What is it, Auggie?”

  “So, yeah, about the name. I didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone, but when I was a kid I wasn’t as big as most of my friends. I got picked on by the bullies at school. Kids who called me that name. So it kind of brings back bad memories if you know what I mean.”

  I stand up and stretch my arms, giving up on sleeping. I give him a sympathetic look and pat him on the shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I’m sorry about that, man.”

  “Thanks,” he says, as I walk away.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Katrina at headquarters. She’s the one in charge of outfitting all of us in FDNY gear. I ask her if she can get me a dozen shirts. Then I make sure she gets the spelling right. “It’s Auggie with two Gs,” I tell her.

  J.D. waves me into his office as I walk by.

  “What’s up, Cap?”

  Jim Dickenson is the officer in charge of the firehouse. He’s also the OIC for Engine 319. He’s part of my team, along with Steve and now Noah.

  Technically, Battalion Chief Mitzel is in charge, but he’s in charge of five firehouses and his office is over at Engine 71/Ladder 12. We only see him if there’s a major fire or other life-and-death call.

  “You happy to be out of the hot seat?” J.D. asks.

  “Hell yes, Captain.”

  “Good. You’ve done a great job here, Briggs. I just wanted you to know it hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

  I reach out to shake his hand. “I really appreciate that.”

  He has no idea just how much. My whole life, I’ve dreamed about being a firefighter. I may have gotten sidetracked for a few years, following what was my parents’ dream for me, but as I look around J.D.’s office, seeing all the pictures of the firefighters who have served in this house, I know I made the right choice.

  The alarm sounds, calling us into action to respond to a residential structural fire.

  J.D. runs out from behind his desk and shouts up into the bunk room. “Engine Company 319, you have exactly fifty-two seconds to get your asses in gear!”

  I laugh, knowing that was meant for Noah. The rest of us know all about the captain’s fifty-two-second rule. It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of taking a shower or taking a dump, there are no exceptions if you want to stay off his shit list. He’s one of the toughest captains at FDNY. But he’s also one of the best. And I’m a better firefighter for it.

  I run out with him and we suit up in our turnout gear that sits next to our rig. I take my place in the back seat, along with Noah, helping him adjust the straps on his coat. Then as we pull out onto the street, I stare out the window, listening to the siren and waving to the kids who stop and stare. And I smile because I know I’m exactly where I need to be.

  ~ ~ ~

  I look up at the awning over the front door. The Greene Thumb.

  How many times have I jogged past here over the last year? My apartment is about a mile away and this street is part of the route I take on my runs. I look through the window, wondering if one of those times when I was jogging by, Dahlia was in there with Ivy, painting pictures of the flowers she loved so much. Painting pictures of the rain.

  I open the front door and walk through, my nose being assaulted by a dozen different fragrances all at once. There is a man being waited on, so I hang back and look around. I stand shielded by a tall floor display and watch the woman behind the counter. No doubt the woman is Ivy’s sister, Holly. The resemblance is remarkable. She has brown hair like her younger sister, although it’s not quite as long. She has the same heart-shaped face, though it’s not as thin. She has the same eyes, but they aren’t nearly as sad.

  Holly acknowledges me, saying she’ll be with me in a minute. I lift my chin at her.

  She keeps glancing over at me while she helps her customer. When the man leaves, she walks over to me, holding out her hand. “Sebastian Briggs, I presume?”

  “Bass,” I say, shaking her hand as I look down at my FDNY T-shirt. “What gave it away?”

  She laughs. “I was wondering if you were going to come in.”

  “Why were you wondering that?” I ask.

  “You’re in love with my sister, aren’t you?”

  “Well, yes. But she’s not back from Hawaii yet.”

  “Not until tomorrow,” she says. “But I knew if you were the one for her, you’d come here even before she got home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you love her, you know how broken she feels, and you’d probably want to meet someone close to her to find out how you can help.”

  I cock my head to the side and stare at her.

  “Sorry,” she says. “I guess I haven’t introduced myself properly. Holly Greene, co-manager of this fine establishment and certified single lady if you have any bachelor friends at the firehouse you want to introduce me to.”

  I laugh, thinking of several who would be interested. She’s beautiful like her sister. And spunky. It makes me wonder if Ivy used to be spunky, too. Before her world was destroyed.

  “I might be able to arrange that,” I say.

  “A double date maybe,” she says, nodding to a calendar on the wall—the FDNY charity calendar. “One of them can put out my fire anytime.”

  “We did, you know. Earlier this year,” I say. “Put out a fire here, I mean.”

  She rolls her eyes as if she just ate a decadent piece of chocolate. “I know. I thanked the owners next door for having a faulty stove. I got to sit here for hours watching your unit tear through walls to make sure the fire was out.”

  I laugh.

  She walks over and pounds the wall with her palm. “Good as new.”

  “I’m glad there wasn’t much damage to your place.”

  “That’s because you arrived so quickly.”

  “We do what we can to help.”

  She nods and smiles at me, studying me for a second. “You don’t need to be asking us how you can help her, you know. You helped her more in those two weeks than any of us could in seven months.”

  “I’m not so sure it was me,” I say. “She did all the things Dahlia wanted her to do. I think it made Ivy feel closer to he
r, but in some strange way—”

  “It also helped her let Dahlia go.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “You’re too modest,” Holly says. “It was you.”

  “She took the first step by getting on that helicopter. That’s where we met.”

  “I know.” She smiles brightly. “I know everything about it.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Everything,” she says. “Ivy’s not just my sister. She’s my best friend.”

  I try to look embarrassed. “Excuse me while I blush then.”

  She laughs at my dramatics. “No need to be embarrassed. I never thought anyone would ever get through those cob webs she had growing between her legs. Well, except maybe Eli, but he doesn’t count anymore. Anyway, we all think you’re a saint.”

  I want to ask her about Eli, but I don’t. “All?”

  “Mom, Dad, Alder, Christina. We’re all very grateful to you. They can’t wait to meet you. Uh, unless you’ve already been to the other shops today. Are you making the rounds?”

  I shake my head. “You’re the only one I’ve met so far. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

  “Sure, name it. I mean, I’m going to owe you big time after you set me up with a hottie from the firehouse. Wait, do you have any pictures?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Shame,” she says. “So, the favor?”

  “I’m not able to meet Ivy at the airport. I’ll be on shift. I know she said you were picking her up and I was wondering if you could give her something for me.”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you know how to make leis?” I ask.

  She smiles. “As a matter of fact, I do. We’ve done some Hawaiian-themed weddings before.”

  “Great. Can you make it out of purple orchids?”

  “Whatever you want.” She nods to some notecards on the counter. “Want to send a note with it?”

  I look at the small cards. “Uh …”

  She picks one up and hands it to me. “Come on, Casanova, it would be romantic.”

  She hands me a pen. I pull up a nearby stool and sit down, staring at the blank card.

  “You love her, Briggs. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

  “I’m a firefighter, Holly, not a poet.”

  I think about our time in Hawaii and then I scribble out the note and put it in the small envelope before handing it back to her.

  She immediately opens it and reads the card as she pops her gum. I get the feeling this woman knows no boundaries.

  Her eyes tear up then she walks around the counter and hugs me. Hard.

  “What was that for?” I ask.

  “For being the one for her. I wasn’t sure before, but I am now.”

  “Why are you sure?”

  She nods to the note I wrote. “Because only the man she loves would be able to write these things. Believe me. I know her better than anyone.”

  “Sorry, Holly. I’m hoping to strip you of that honor,” I say, handing her my credit card.

  She runs my card and hands me the receipt. “You know, I think I might be okay with that. Especially seeing as I’m going to be very busy once you introduce me to your friends.”

  I shake my head at her and laugh as I make my way to the door. “Nice to meet you, Holly.”

  “We’re going to be related one day, you know,” she shouts after me. “I’m calling it first.”

  “No,” I say, pushing the door open. “Actually, you’re not.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Ivy

  Even though I’m in first class, I hang back, staying on the plane while everyone else gets off. I stay seated by the window as I pretend I’m searching for something in my purse. But I know I’m just prolonging the inevitable. I’m going to have to step off this plane in a minute. I’m going to step out of my fantasy and back into reality.

  “Miss?”

  I look up to see the flight attendant staring at me.

  “Sorry,” I say, grabbing my carry-on. I walk out of the plane as the crew thanks me for flying with them.

  I walk through the gate and enter the busy airport. I follow the other passengers to baggage claim. When I get there, I’m looking around for my sister when I get hugged from behind.

  “Ivy!” Holly squeals. “I’ve missed you.”

  I turn around to give her a proper hug. “I’ve missed you too, Hol.”

  She takes a step back, still holding on to my arms. “You look radiant.”

  “I do?”

  “Absolutely. Hawaii was good for you,” she says. Then she elbows me. “Or something was.” She reaches into her purse. “Hey, speaking of something.” She puts a lei made of purple orchids around my neck.

  I laugh. “Hol, leis are for arriving in Hawaii, not coming home.”

  “It’s not from me, it’s from Bass. Maybe he wants you to feel like every day is Hawaii.” She hands me a small envelope. “And he wrote you a note. He was bummed that he couldn’t be here.”

  “He’s on shift. He told me.”

  I see my suitcase coming around the carousel. “That’s mine.”

  “I’ll get it,” Holly says.

  As she works her way through the crowd to get my bag, I open the envelope. My eyes mist up as I read his words.

  You are my sunshine.

  My waterfall.

  My puddle in the rain.

  I hold the note to my chest, wanting so desperately to see him again. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but it feels like forever.

  “I like him,” Holly says, dragging my suitcase behind her.

  “He’s taken,” I say with a smile.

  She cocks her head to the side, studying me. “You’re different.”

  “I hope so.” I nod to the outside doors. “But I’m not sure what will happen when I go out there. When I go home. I don’t want this feeling to go away.”

  “You’re not going home,” she says. “Well, you are, but you’re not.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “Don’t be mad, Ivy.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “What have you done?”

  “Something that needed to be done. You’ll see.”

  She hails us a cab and gives the driver her address. Then I get it. I’ll bet she’s planned some kind of welcome home party for me at her place. She’s probably got the whole family there. Maybe she’s even going to surprise me with Bass. My sister is sneaky that way.

  When we get to her building and onto the elevator, she pushes the button for the fourth floor instead of the seventh. I reach out and press the correct button. “You pressed the wrong one,” I say.

  “No, I didn’t. I moved.”

  “You moved?”

  She shrugs. “A bigger place became available, so they let me switch the lease.”

  “Why do you need a bigger place?”

  The elevator dings, arriving at the fourth floor. “Come on,” she says, pulling my suitcase behind her.

  We pass by two other doors on the way to hers. Then she gives me a look before opening her door. It’s a guilty look if I ever saw one.

  She holds the door open for me and we put my bags inside. Then I see my favorite chair in the corner of her living room.

  “What’s my chair doing here?”

  She digs around in her pocket and pulls out a key. She hands it to me. “It’s here because you’re here. You live here now. With me.”

  “I what?”

  “We—Mom, Dad, Alder, and Christina—we all thought that you being in your apartment was not good for you anymore. All you did was lie around and be depressed. You hardly ever left her room, Ivy.”

  “Her room was the only thing I had left of her,” I say, turning around and heading for the door. “I’m going back there. Right now.”

  “It’s gone,” she says.

  “What do you mean, it’s gone?”

  “Your old apartment. The lease was in Dad’s name, remember? He brok
e it and paid the early termination fee. Someone else is already living there.”

  Tears well up in my eyes. “It’s gone? What did you do with all her stuff?” My hand comes up to my mouth to cover a sob. “Oh, God. Did you throw it away?”

  I drop my purse on the floor and run through the apartment, looking for Dahlia’s room, but knowing there won’t be one. I rip open the bedroom doors until I find the one with my furniture. And that’s when I see it. I see Dahlia’s favorite blanket lying on the foot of my bed. I grab it and sink down onto the bed, holding the blanket tightly against me.

  Through my tears, I look around the room, the only evidence of my daughter being the framed pictures of her on the wall.

  I look back at Holly standing in the doorway. “How could you do this?” I shout. “You had no right.”

  “Ivy—”

  “Get out, Holly. I can’t even look at you.”

  She walks into the room and picks something up off the dresser. Something I’ve never seen before.

  “Here, you should look through this,” she says. “And we didn’t get rid of anything. It’s all in storage.”

  Then she turns around and walks out the door, closing it after her.

  I look down at what she placed in my lap. It looks like a scrapbook. It’s got a picture of a flower on the cover. A dahlia. I open it and instantly big balls of tears roll down my cheeks. Inside the book looks to be just about every picture my daughter ever sketched, drew, or painted. The ones from her bedroom walls. The ones she created at the shop. The ones she slaved over in the hospital. Holly had them all laminated and bound together in one large book.

  The tears, the memories, the jet-lag—it all has me feeling exhausted and I curl up with Dahlia’s blanket and go to sleep.