Static and Sparks

The radio crackles to life, jolting me from a half-dozen thoughts that scatter like startled birds. “Engine 17, Ladder 9, respond to 214 Oak Street, structure fire, possible entrapment.” My pulse kicks up as I yank on my turnout gear, the familiar weight settling on my shoulders like a second skin. Across the bay, Leo catches my eye, his bright blues narrowing just a fraction as he takes in my expression. *He always sees too much*, I think, ducking into the rig.

We tear through the streets, sirens wailing, the smell of smoke already threading through the air. My knee bounces, a nervous energy I can never quite shake on calls like this. It’s not the fire that gets me—it’s the variables. The things you can’t predict. Like the way Leo’s hands move when he’s checking a patient, sure and steady, or how his laugh sounds when he’s trading barbs with the guys.

*Cut it out, Jamie.* I press my forehead to the cool glass of the window, letting the vibration of the engine rattle through me. This isn’t the time.

The house comes into view, flames licking up the side like they’re trying to taste the sky. We bail out, and I catch sight of Leo already moving toward the ambo, his sandy hair catching the light from the fire. *Focus, damn it.* I haul hose with my crew, the heat pressing in as we advance.

“Watch your left!” somebody yells, and I glance up just in time to see a section of the roof groaning, timbers splitting. *Move.* I lunge forward, grabbing the rookie by the collar and yanking him clear as the beam crashes down right where he’d been standing. My heart hammers against my ribs, adrenaline singing through my veins.

Later, back at the house, I’m scrubbing soot off my neck at the sink when Leo appears in the doorway of the bay. “Heard you had a close call,” he says, crossing to the fridge and pulling out two waters. He tosses one to me, and I catch it, my fingers brushing his for a split second. *Don’t.*

“Yeah,” I say, cracking the bottle open and taking a long pull. “Too close.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, and for a second his eyes linger on the scar along my jawline. “You okay?”

*No.* “Fine,” I say, too quick. His brow furrows, just a little, and I know he’s not buying it. He never does.

“Uh-huh.” He takes a step closer, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his irises. “You’ve been quiet. Quieter than usual, I mean.”

I shrug, looking away. “Just tired.”

*Lie. Such a damn lie.* The truth is, I’m tired of pretending. Tired of the way my throat gets tight every time he’s near, the way my palms itch to reach for him. *You can’t. You know you can’t.*

“Jamie,” he says, and his voice is soft, the way it gets when he’s talking to a patient who’s scared. It unravels me, that sound. Makes me want to lean into it. Makes me want things I’ve got no business wanting.

“I’m good, Leo,” I say, forcing a smile that feels brittle around the edges. “Swear.”

He watches me for a long moment, his gaze steady, like he’s trying to see past all the walls I’ve put up. Then he nods, once. “Okay,” he says, but I can tell he’s not convinced. He bumps my shoulder with his as he moves past me toward the door, his touch lingering just a beat too long. “You’d tell me, right? If you weren’t?”

*Never.* “Yeah,” I say, the word ash in my mouth. “Yeah, I’d tell you.”

He leaves, and I stand there, the ghost of his touch burning through my shirt. *You’re playing with fire, Jamie. And we both know how that ends.*

“Jamie,” I say, and he startles like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes snap to mine, wide and a little wild before he shutters them again, locking everything away behind that careful blankness he wears like armor.

“Hey,” he says, too casual, and I know he’s full of shit. I’ve been watching him since we got back from that call, the way he’s wound tighter than a clock spring, the way his knuckles go white when he grips his water bottle.

*Something’s eating at him. And I’d bet my last dollar it’s not just the close call.* I’ve seen Jamie after tough runs before. He gets quiet, sure, turns inward. But this? This is different. There’s a brittleness to him, like he’s one wrong touch from shattering.

“You sure you’re okay?” I ask, keeping my voice light. I nudge his shoulder with mine, let my touch linger just a beat too long. I’ve gotten good at that, at finding reasons to brush against him, to stand just a little too close. *Testing the waters. Always testing.*

He tenses, just for a second, before he forces himself to relax. “Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Just tired.”

*Lie. Such a damn lie.* I’ve heard it often enough to recognize the shape of it, the way it sits awkwardly on his tongue. I want to push, want to crack him open and see what’s writhing underneath that calm surface. *But you can’t. Not yet.*

So I let it go, for now. I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “Long night,” I agree, and he nods, his shoulders loosening just a fraction. *Good. That’s good.*

I cast around for something to say, something to break the tension that’s still humming between us, thick as smoke. “Heard you pulled Daniels’ ass out of the fire,” I say, bumping his elbow with mine. “Again.”

A ghost of a smile flickers at the corner of his mouth, there and gone so fast I almost miss it. “Kid’s gonna get himself killed,” he grumbles, but there’s no heat in it. He’d move heaven and earth to keep his crew safe, and we both know it.

“He’s lucky to have you,” I say, soft, and this time he does look at me, really look, his dark eyes searching my face like he’s trying to puzzle something out. *Me, probably.* I hold his gaze, let him see the fondness there, the affection I’ve been carrying around like a secret for months now. *See it, Jamie. See me.*

His throat works as he swallows, his eyes dropping to my mouth before he wrenches them away. *Oh.* The air goes tight, charged, the space between us shrinking down to nothing. *He feels it too.* The realization sends a jolt through me, hot and bright. *He wants me. I know he does.*

I take a step closer, close enough that I can see the faint scar along his jaw, the one he got pulling a kid out of a burning apartment building. Close enough that I can smell the faint scent of his soap, underneath the smoke and sweat. *Say something. Do something.*

“Leo,” he says, and my name sounds different in his mouth than it does in anyone else’s, lower, rougher. *Like a secret.*

“Jamie,” I breathe, and for a heartbeat, I think he’s going to close the distance between us. I think he’s going to kiss me. *Please. Please let him kiss me.*

But then the alarm blares, shrill and insistent, shattering the moment into a thousand jagged pieces. We spring apart like we’ve been burned, both of us breathing hard. *Fuck. Fuck.*

“Gotta go,” Jamie says, and he’s already moving, grabbing his gear, his face smoothing out into that familiar mask of calm competence. *The firefighter, not the man.*

“Be safe,” I call after him, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. He nods, once, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the belly of the rig.

I stand there for a long moment after he’s gone, my heart hammering against my ribs, my skin prickling with the ghost of his almost-touch. *Goddamn it.* I drag a hand through my hair, blowing out a frustrated breath. *So close. We were so fucking close.*

*Later,* I tell myself, even as disappointment curdles in my gut. *You’ll get another chance. You have to.*

But as I watch the engine tear out of the bay, lights flashing, sirens wailing, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re running out of time. *Sooner or later, something’s got to give. Please, let it be sooner.*

The call is a bad one. Apartment complex, three alarms, flames eating through the top floor like it’s kindling. We’re inside, crawling through the black, the heat pressing down on us like a physical weight. My mask is fogging, my air tank heavy on my back, and every instinct I’ve got is screaming at me to get out.

Then I hear it. Faint, almost lost under the roar of the fire. A child, crying.

*Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.*