Page 1 of Striking the Match (Redwood Bay Fire #3)

Teddy

My dad always says, ‘careful what you wish for.’ Usually, I just roll my eyes at him.

Right now, I’m thinking I probably should have paid more attention to his warnings.

All summer, it’s been as dry as a tinderbox with wildfires sweeping through the whole of SoCal, so you can bet I prayed my ass off for a little rain to help us out.

I think I prayed too hard.

The heavens opened when I was smack bang in the middle of my run, literally at the farthest point away from my house. They’ve been forecasting thunderstorms for days, but nothing ever materialized.

Until now.

Within seconds, I’m absolutely drenched.

“Motherfucker!” I cry. It’s like standing under a shower at full blast, and I gasp as I uselessly try to wipe the warm water from my eyes and spit it out of my mouth.

My chest was already heaving from the cardio, but now I splutter as I stumble to a slower jog, blinking and looking up at the overcast sky.

The air already feels cooler, which I am grateful for. But the earth is so parched and rock-hard, I know that most of this water is going to just run off the ground, fast. I might not be on duty, but that doesn’t mean I ever stop thinking like a firefighter.

Sorry, a probationary firefighter. The One-Thirteen never lets me forget for long that I’m still not fully qualified. They also like to constantly remind me that I’m by far the youngest on the squad.

It won’t last forever, though.

One day, I’ll be a real member of the team, and somebody fresh will come up from the academy.

Then they’ll be the baby, not me.

Which is one of the reasons my fitness is so important to me.

I have to prove every single shift that I’m good enough to be there, that I can keep up.

It’s not even as if I’m young for a probie, as people frequently start training fresh out of high school and I went to community college first. But at twenty-three, I’m still a few years behind anyone else, and having such a round, baby face doesn’t help matters.

Truth be told, I actually like the way I look.

But it drives me nuts how everyone always treats me with kid gloves, both at home and at work.

And don’t even get me started on dating.

None of the guys I’m attracted to ever think I’m mature enough for them, so I’ve basically stopped trying.

At least for now. Maybe when I’m qualified and grow into my face a bit more, they’ll start taking me seriously.

And get my own place, god. Living at home makes financial sense, but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m a grown-ass man. ’

Having my workout disrupted is incredibly frustrating, but I don’t need to be dwelling on those things right now.

After balling my fists up for a few seconds and letting the rain wash over me, I take a couple of slow deep breaths and remind myself that I was basically heading home anyway.

Yeah, it’ll be uncomfortable, but so is running drills in full turnouts, and I manage that regularly enough.

So I kick up my heels and get going once more.

If I knew this downpour was doing any good, I’d probably be less annoyed.

But it’s going to take a while before the ground softens enough to absorb anything again.

My route happens to currently be taking me alongside the river as I head toward the freeway looming overhead.

I’m not sure what direction the storm rolled in from, but I can see that that water has already swollen, suggesting there’s most likely already been rain upstream to cause the surge.

Like I said, everything’s just rolling right off the ground and racing to get back into the ocean.

I’m just grateful I paid attention to the weather warnings, even if I didn’t believe them after so many days of inaccuracy.

But it meant that I left my phone and earbuds back at home.

It might have been a boring run until now, but at least I’m not worrying about my electronics getting damaged.

They’re supposed to be water resistant, but at the rate this is coming down, I wouldn’t want to risk it.

The rain is so loud all around me that I can barely hear my feet slapping against the pathway.

There’s no one else dumb enough to be out here.

There wasn’t ten minutes ago, either, but now it feels kind of creepy with the ominous darkened sky overhead.

I know I should keep going, but when I stumble under the overpass, I slow to a halt to catch my breath and shake the water out of my ears for a sec.

I’m torn on whether or not it’s a good thing I don’t have my phone on me to summon an Uber. On the one hand, I need to finish this run. On the other…I’d really like to be home and dry as soon as possible.

That’s not an option, though, so I roll my shoulders and stretch my calves, deciding that once I get going this time, I’m not going to stop until I get to my front door.

Whatever my mom’s cooking us for dinner, I’m going to earn it.

Especially as she was making zucchini chocolate chip muffins when I left.

I’ll be having one or three of them, too.

I puff out my cheeks and crack my neck from side to side, my gaze drifting to the rushing water as I prepare to set off…then I stop.

A flash of orange catches my eye that looks out of place in the fast-moving river.

It’s bobbing around by a clump of reeds right on the edge of where the freeway above is blocking the rain, giving me slightly better visibility.

Still, I frown and jog closer to the bank, my heart rate picking up, telling me something is wrong.

It could just be some trash. A scrap of plastic or a discarded high-vis jacket that’s been blown into the current. But after all the calls I’ve been on with the One-Thirteen, I know not to ignore my gut. I’d rather double check everything’s okay than make a mistake that might haunt me.

The loose soil of the sloping bank is already turning to mud before I even try scrambling down it. There’s a small tree I can use for support, though, so I edge closer to the river, squinting my eyes at the patch of weeds, wondering if I imagined the whole thing.

That’s when something thrashes just below the surface. I freeze, not blinking despite the water still running from my hair into my eyes. I make out a triangular ear. A paw. The tip of a tail. It snaps back and forth, like a rescue beacon screaming for help.

The struggling blur has broken free of the reeds and is being swept down the river. I gasp as my gaze meets a wide and terrified bright blue pair of eyes surrounded by matted ginger hair.

It’s a cat.

And it’s going to drown.

I don’t even pause to think as I dive into the frigid water, the current immediately dragging me along, fast. But I don’t spend all my free time training my ass off for nothing. Every day I set foot into the firehouse, I’m making a commitment to battle against nature, and I very rarely lose.

Today is not going to be one of those days. If it’s me verses this deluge, I’m the one coming out victorious.

Within seconds, I’m powering through the water, back out in the rain, keeping my head up just enough to track where the cat is up ahead of me. The poor thing keeps being pulled under and I’m frantic thinking every time they submerge, they’re not going to come back up again.

My body was already aching from the run, but now my arms and legs are burning. That’s not going to stop me, though. If anything, it focuses my determination, pushing me to move faster so I can close the distance between me and the panicked creature.

Luck is on my side. The cat manages to dig their claws into a protruding root, granting me a few precious seconds to catch up.

“I’ve got you, baby!” I tell the little thing as the current slams me into the tangle of roots and reeds.

But I’m a lot bigger than a kitty, and the dry, crumbling ground was unstable before the downpour started. Everything breaks loose against my body, and the cat’s makeshift life raft dislodges.

“No!” I splutter, automatically reaching out to grab the scruff of their neck.

That only makes the drenched orange fluffball hiss and slash out with their claws.

What brief grip I had on them is lost as we’re both yanked back into the current.

We’re moving away from the freeway now, getting closer to where the river widens as it begins to merge with the ocean.

A flutter of fear graces my chest. I’m not coward, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a dangerous situation when I see one. In fact, that’s one of the most fundamentally important things about being a firefighter. Understanding the peril but charging headlong into it anyway.

If we get caught in a riptide, however, it won’t necessarily matter how strong of a swimmer I am. Nature could win this one.

Then I lock eyes again with the exhausted, pissed off cat bobbing just a few feet away from me, and decide that if this little thing still has fight in them after who knows how long battling against the water, then I can muster up plenty more energy still.

“C’mere!” I cry, lunging forward and sweeping my arm around the squirming bundle of fury. My reward is more hissing and slashes from their claws, but I’m not letting them go this time.

While the cat thrashes as I try and hug them under my arm, I manage to yank my hoodie zipper down a few inches.

We both drop under the surging water while both my arms are momentarily out of commission, but if anything, the shock works to my advantage, making the kitty still and cling to me in panic.

I thrust the little one inside my top like a baby’s papoose.