Page 72 of Knotting the Firefighters

The words hang in the air between us like smoke—visible, tangible, impossible to ignore despite our mutual attempts at pretending everything is fine.

The nurse had interrupted his elaboration, arriving with discharge paperwork and final vital checks that transformed intimate revelation into an administrative process. Then the drive back here—silent except for road noise and my phone's occasional notifications, both of us apparently incapable of resuming a discussion that requires vulnerability neither of us excels at displaying.

So we pack instead.

Avoid feelings through productivity.

Very healthy coping mechanism, truly.

My phone buzzes against the nightstand—Chief Tom Rodriguez checking in for the third time today, his messages carrying a mixture of professional courtesy and genuine concern that makes me simultaneously grateful and exhausted.

We'd spoken briefly before my discharge, his gravelly voice warm through the phone's speaker while Dr. Winters finished final paperwork.

"Looking forward to having you officially on the roster, Chief Murphy,"he'd said, and the title had settled over me like familiar coat—comfortable, well-worn, perfectly fitted despite months spent avoiding it.

"Temporarily,"I'd corrected, maintaining the fiction that this arrangement isn't potentially permanent, that three months won't fundamentally alter my trajectory.

His chuckle had carried a knowing quality that made my spine straighten with suspicion.

"We'll see. Station Fahrenheit has a way of keeping the people it needs."

Cryptic.

Extremely cryptic.

But our follow-up conversation had clarified his intentions with uncomfortable precision. He wants me as Chief—not just temporarily, not just as a placeholder, but as an actual leader who can transform Station Fahrenheit's operational capacity from adequate to exceptional.

"You saw the flaws,"he'd said bluntly."In under two hours, you identified every weakness in our command structure, every gap in our protocols. That's what we need—someone who can diagnose problems and implement solutions instead of maintaining comfortable mediocrity."

The compliment had warmed something in my chest I'd thought Gregory's pack had killed—professional pride, the satisfaction of competence recognized and valued.

But Rodriguez's underlying strategy is what really intrigues me.

"Hawthorne's got potential,"he'd admitted, voice dropping like he was sharing classified information."Leadership instincts, tactical intelligence, crew loyalty. Everything needed for an exceptional chief except the confidence to fully embrace the role."

I'd understood immediately what he wasn't saying directly—Aidric hesitates at crucial moments, second-guesses decisions that should be instinctive, maintains walls that prevent the kind of authentic connection required for crews to follow without question.

"You're hoping I'll light a fire under his ass,"I'd translated, unable to suppress the smirk.

Rodriguez's laugh had been genuine, delighted.

"Among other things. Competition breeds excellence, Chief Murphy. And Hawthorne responds to challenges better than he responds to encouragement. Three months working under someone who executes the role he wants? That'll teach him more than any amount of formal training."

Devious old man.

I respect it immensely.

So I'm officially Station Fahrenheit's temporary Chief as of tomorrow morning, responsible for whipping twelve Alphas into a functional crew while simultaneously demonstrating to Aidric Hawthorne exactly what command authority looks like when executed without hesitation.

Competitive flattery at its finest.

I won't admit this strategy to Aidric's face—at least not immediately. Let him stew in frustration first, let him observe and analyze, and hopefully learn through watching someone who's already mastered what he's still practicing.

Because he does have potential.

Significant potential, actually, is visible in the way his crew responds to him despite organizational chaos, in the tactical decisions he makes during emergencies, in the protective instinct he extends toward his pack and the civilians they serve.

But there's hesitation.