Page 18 of Love Songs (Harmony Lake #3)

“Have a seat,” I motioned for Dallas to sit at the kitchen table, then walked over to Jackson and tugged the Pop Tarts from his hand with a shake of my head.

“This stuff’ll kill you,” I said, turning the packet over to check the best before date. I held it up for him to see. “Especially since it expired four years ago.”

“ Pfft ,” he said. “Those things will last through the next ice age.”

“Exactly,” I snorted. “And you want something like that rotting in your gut for the rest of your life?”

“Exaggerating much,” he rolled his eyes as I handed the packet back and he turned it over, a frown growing on his face as he read the ingredients. He shuffled backward toward the garbage bin and discreetly tossed them inside.

I put my back to him and grinned at Dallas, giving him a wink.

“Can we get a group photo for the wall while you’re here?” Jackson asked Dallas as I started pulling sandwich fixings out of the fridge.

The “wall” was a large corkboard where we pinned photos taken with various people in the community who we honored.

Some were of people no longer with us, some were town heroes for one reason or another, some were of special occasions and events, and some were of our friends.

Dallas graciously posed for both the group photo and a couple of selfies with Jackson, while laughing off a little ribbing about the Founders Day fire.

I smiled as I watched him interacting with my coworkers. Having him here, in my space, felt . . . right, somehow.

I shook my head as I turned on the panini press to heat while I prepped half a dozen sandwiches, when the alarms sounded and two lights in the ceiling glowed red—which meant fire. When the lights were blue, it was a medical call, and green was for all other emergencies.

Dallas startled while the rest of us jumped to action like a well-oiled machine.

“Structure fire. Grafton,” a woman’s voice said through the broadcast alert system speakers. “Multiple responders on route . . .”

“I’m so sorry, Dallas,” I said, and unplugged the panini press as I listened to the rest of the alert message, quickly throwing everything back into the fridge. “Duty calls. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

I rushed a wide-eyed Dallas out of the building.

“Be careful,” he said, his voice tight.

“Always,” I said with a reassuring grin, fighting the urge to kiss him.

I spun and ran into the apparatus bay, quickly donning my turnout gear.

I hopped into the passenger seat of the ladder truck and put my radio headset on while Whittaker got behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and flipped on the sirens.

Jackson and Shepherd climbed into the back seats.

Captain Burgess pulled out ahead of us in his command vehicle as two cars pulled into the lot at the same time.

Three of our on-call volunteer firefighters spilled out of the vehicles and ran toward the engine truck.

Seconds later, we were racing east toward Grafton with the second truck quickly following behind.

“So, it’s true then, Holly?” Shepherd asked from the backseat.

“Is what true?”

“That you’re dating Dallas Blade now.”

I turned in my seat to glare at him. “We already went over this.”

“It’s all over town.” Shepherd shrugged unapologetically. “And I didn’t miss the looks you two were throwing at each other back there.”

“Yeah,” Jackson chimed in, and I wish he hadn’t. “Plus, I heard from Mabel at the bistro who heard from Arnold at the hardware store who heard from Mrs. Jennings at the library that you’re an item. And Prescott over at the Lakeside Inn saw you guys looking all cuddly in the lounge.”

Cuddly ? I sat forward in my seat and rolled my eyes. This town .

“We are not dating,” I grumbled.

The daydreamer part of me would happily date Dallas, but the realistic part of me knew he’d be leaving town the following day and chances of seeing him again, let alone developing any kind of relationship, were about as likely as me winning the lottery jackpot.

Since I’d never once bought a ticket in my life, that put my chances at nil, zero, nada, zilch.

Whittaker snickered, but didn’t add to the conversation. I turned my attention to the communications coming over the radio from dispatch. We were headed to a five-alarm fire, which meant it had to be a big event if they were calling in crews from several stations.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins, sharpening my focus.

Most of our calls were for minor incidents, which was a good thing.

The best days at work were the quiet days, where everyone stayed healthy and in one piece.

But the fires that called us out of our township were the worst. While all fires and callouts had the potential for serious outcomes, these big ones enormously increased the risks from serious results to fatal.

Black smoke billowed into the air as we drew closer, and when a three-story apartment building came into view, fully engulfed, I saw fire engines and apparatus trucks from four other townships parked at odd angles, and first responders running in all directions.

I spotted a truck from the Grantham station, where my little sister Juno worked out of.

We stopped on the street while Captain Burgess drove ahead and parked. We waited for him to confer with the incident commander and find out where they needed us.

I surveyed the scene while we waited, but didn’t see Juno anywhere among the responders already on the ground. She was a professional and knew what she was doing, but it still made me uneasy not knowing where she was.

“Whittaker,” the captain’s voice crackled over the radio. “Take the apparatus truck to the east corner of the building and get the ladder ready for extraction. There are still people inside.”

All four of us in the truck cursed in unison.

We pulled up next to Grantham’s fire engine and, like a perfectly synchronized Olympic swim team, began pulling out all the tools, equipment, and hoses that we’d need.

Shepherd and Jackson ran to the back of the rig to set the jacking system to keep our truck stable with the ladder fully extended, while Whittaker hustled up the outrigger steps to the control panel.

I grabbed a handful of bright orange cones and dropped them around our apparatus to create a safety perimeter. When I dropped the last cone, I spotted Captain Baraldi from Grantham and even though I shouldn’t have, I stole a couple of seconds to rush over.

“Captain,” I called out. “Where’s Holliston?”

His gaze dropped to my name badge, and he grimaced.

“In there.” Baraldi lifted his chin, and I followed his line of sight.

My pulse quickened, and I swore under my breath. Nobody should be inside that building right now.

“No one else goes in,” Captain Baraldi warned.

Three firefighters staggered out of the building. Two were carrying young children who were coughing from smoke inhalation, but none of them were Juno. I raced forward without thinking.

“Where’s Holliston?” I shouted to be heard over the roar of the fire and shouts of the responders.

The guy not carrying anyone thumbed over his shoulder as he pulled off his breathing apparatus. “Up there. She turned back for another kid.”

Of course she did. I would have, too.

“Where was she?”

“Second floor, east hallway,” he said. “But take the back stairs. The front ones collapsed behind us.”

Fuck . She was going to get trapped in there. I knew I was going against protocol, and Juno would be pissed that I came to rescue her while she was busy rescuing someone else, but panic flared brighter in my chest. My sister could kick my ass later, after she made it safely out of there.

I radioed Captain Burgess as I pulled on my breathing apparatus and charged inside, ignoring his shouts in my ear to stand down.

“Juno,” I shouted, pushing through thick, black smoke.

I made my way to the second stairwell at the back of the building and started climbing while flames licked at me from the first-floor landing.

I’d cleared all of five steps before a section of the stairwell collapsed behind me, closing another escape route.

I called out Juno’s name again and again as I reached the second floor. My heart raced and sweat dripped down my face. Wood snapped and glass shattered as floors and ceilings collapsed nearby.

“Juno! Oof .” Someone coming out of an apartment banged into me, knocking me off balance, but I recovered quickly.

“Conor,” Juno shouted, and a powerful wave of relief washed through me, nearly dropping me to my knees.

“We have to get out of here,” I said, reaching for the child she had over her shoulder.

She shook her head. I thought for sure she was going to rip into me for coming in here against orders, but she gestured to the door she’d come through, either not knowing or not caring.

“There’s another little boy in there. I promised,” she implored. “Bathroom.”

Shit . We needed to get out, but there was no way I was going to leave anyone behind, especially a kid. Death by fire was a horrible way to go.

“I’ll find him. You get out of here.” I pointed the other direction down the hall. “Stairs collapsed. Go that way.”

She hesitated for a second, and I knew exactly what she was thinking because I’d have been thinking the same thing—leave no one behind.

“Go!”

She turned and ran down the hall, dodging a flaming ceiling beam as it fell.

Cursing, I raced inside and found a young boy of maybe ten crouched in the bathtub with a wet blanket draped over top of him. There was no way in hell Juno would’ve made it back up here for him, but at least she’d done what she could to keep him as safe as possible.

I bundled him up and threw him over my shoulder, crashing into my sister once again when I reached the hallway.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” I yelled at her.

“We’re trapped,” she barked back.

“Son of a—”