1. Hallie

1

HALLIE

" I 'm just saying, when you start counting, the math starts to seem a little pathetic. You want to know how many people I've pulled from burning buildings?"

Lieutenant Hallie Hunter is trying not to choke on her coffee through barely contained laughter. She leans against the countertop in the break room at Fire Station 3, in the bustling resort city of Mesquite, Nevada. Her colleague and friend, Arthur Byrne, seems to be struggling through a midlife crisis in his career this morning.

"Go on then, Art. How many people have you saved from burning buildings?"

"Twenty-seven. Can you believe that? Thirty-five years at the station and I'm not even averaging one a year. Now ask me how many cats I've saved. Go on! Ask me."

Hallie has to reluctantly put her coffee down; the choking risk is becoming too great.

"How many cats?"

"Ninety-fucking-three. Ninety-three cats, Hallie! Stuck up trees, on roofs, under porches. I've been a shining knight in armor to nearly a hundred of the damned furballs. I don't even like cats!"

Hallie's grin is starting to make her face hurt as she chuckles again.

"Hey now, I won't hear any cat slander in my presence, cats are the best. Call me a lesbian cliché, I don't care." She holds up both her hands as Art joins her in laughing warmly. "But I see your point, you never picture as a rookie that you'll spend way more time at the top of a ladder waving cold cuts than parading heroically out of a raging inferno."

"Exactly! Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for it now. We've both seen enough horror in our years to appreciate the boring call-outs. It just hits me every year when the new recruits are due, they have no idea they'll be sitting with a coffee in thirty-odd years, counting how many cats owe them one of their nine lives."

Hallie smirks and nods, picking her coffee back up and silently thanking the stars for the quiet days. Before she can take another sip, Captain Hewitt leans round the doorframe.

"Hunter, my office if you will." He is strolling off as quickly as he appeared.

Art raises his eyebrows as Hallie wonders what could possibly have warranted the rare invitation. A gurgling sort of apprehension takes up residence in her stomach as she dares to consider that maybe, just maybe, he wants to discuss the promotion she's been grinding so hard for. This district has never seen a female fire captain. Hell, they'd never seen a female lieutenant before Hallie Hunter. She'd managed to claw her way up the ladder by tooth and nail, the weight of incessant male prejudice threatening to break her ankles the entire time.

Hallie would never tell a soul, but it's been her birthday wish for more than a decade to make captain by forty. Just a few weeks on from her thirty-ninth birthday, she's hoping beyond hope that today could be the day. Chugging the last dregs of her lukewarm coffee, she spares Art an affectionate clap on the shoulder on her way out.

"Happy Monday, old man. Now go save a bunny or something."

Hallie strolls into the captain's office with an easy smile but it falters slightly when she sees who's already occupying the second chair in front of the desk.

"Morning, Sir. Barker." She nods to the captain and then to the only other lieutenant in the station, that excited flutter in her stomach instantly curdling like sour milk. If she's about to be told Jeff Barker is being promoted above her, despite being five years younger than her and a total dick, Hallie will lose her mind. Give her a few bottles of wine and let her cats try and eat her when she passes out. She's sure that sounds like more fun that swallowing Barker's boasting about outranking her.

"Hunter, have a seat. Barker is about to make your day."

Hallie's eyebrows disappear into the flaxen curls which always flop onto her forehead when they're not secured beneath a helmet or a baseball cap. She takes a seat, unsure how to feel as the captain looks at Jeff expectantly.

"Right, yeah, Hallie, I'm sure you're gonna be pleased about this but try not to throw a party just yet. I'm leaving at the end of the month."

"I, um, I'm sorry?" She shifts in her seat uncomfortably, unsure if she just walked into a dismissal, completely oblivious. As far as she knew, Jeff hadn't done anything even remotely worth being fired for—not unless you count being a cocky bastard every day of the week. She glances to the captain, even more confused by the encouraging smile he's giving her. Surely, he doesn't expect her to celebrate right in front of Jeff's face.

"Barker is leaving us for a teaching role at the Academy. So," he claps his hands together, "I need you to take over Probationary Field Training for the new recruits. We have eight incoming next Monday."

It takes every ounce of stoic control in Hallie's body not to leap out of her chair and whoop. Leading PFT is exactly the step up she needs on her mission to make captain. She still shudders at the memory of the wine hangover from the day after Jeff snagged the position three years ago. Pasting on a more calmly grateful expression, she responds.

"Absolutely, Sir. Happy to take on the challenge." Turning to Jeff—who she suddenly hates much less—she tries to sound innocently curious when she asks, "What's got you abandoning us for the Academy then, Barker? Desk job doesn't sound like your style."

Jeff snorts, probably seeing right through Hallie's subtle interrogation. They've been at each other's throats for almost ten years. Hallie can't think of any reason good enough for Jeff to abandon their ruthless race to the top.

"Jenny and I are expecting our first kiddo. She wants me doing something boring and safe, so she doesn't have to worry about me leaving for a shift I don't come home from."

"Oh, well congratulations are in order then."

This time Jeff's snort becomes a full-on guffaw, as if Hallie had just stuck on a clown nose and offered him a diaper-shaped balloon.

"Appreciate the well wishes, I guess, but be honest, I know you think I'm insane. Pigs will fly before Hallie Hunter gives up her shot at chief some day for a mundane suburban family life."

The captain adds his muted chuckle into the mix, and Hallie tries her best to act equally amused. He's right; in a way, nothing has ever mattered more to her than chasing her dreams as a firefighter and proving to every male pig in this field that she can do anything just as well as them, if not better. But Hallie can't ignore the little pang of loneliness that stabs at her lungs through the forced laughter.

She'd never said she didn't want a "suburban family life" at some point. A wife, kids, the whole nine yards. She's just never met the right woman. A woman who wouldn't ask her to give up the mission she's dedicated her entire adult life to, just because the job can be high risk. She needs someone who would understand what it means to her, someone who could see that leaving the action for a desk job would put out the fire behind her own eyes. So far, a woman like that has been hard to find. Jeff's wife is a case in point.

"Ah, you know me, Barker. I've got too many rookies to babysit to think about starting a crew of my own. I'm raising the next generation in my own way." Hallie adds a cheesy wink in the hopes she can convince both men that she's not the teeniest bit jealous of Jeff's cozy homelife. "Well, sounds like I've got a ton of new training exercises to map out. Lord knows Jeff here has been churning out a few softies lately. Will that be all, Captain?"

"Sure, Hunter. We'll coordinate later in the week. Say Thursday? You can give me a rundown of your plans."

"Sounds good, Sir." Hallie offers him a final nod and tries not to let her smile creep too close to the smug side as she throws Jeff a mock salute on her way out.

Sprawled on the floor surrounded by endless sheets of badly scribbled blueprints, Hallie sips on her large glass of pinot noir. The day had slipped by without incident, not one distressed citizen with two legs or four, and she had spent it all dreaming up her own program to train the incoming rookies to her exact standards. She's going to produce the best crew this department has ever seen. They'll be the pride and joy of her career to date.

Hell, they'll be the pride and joy of my whole life to date.

Hallie drowns out the thought with another gulp of wine. She hadn't been prepared for the hollow disappointment the bare walls of her one-bedroom apartment had seemed to blanket her with the minute she'd walked through the door. Not even the enthusiastic greeting of her twin tabbies made her feel better; they were probably only winding their way round her ankles in the hopes of flirting for an early dinner. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to shake the image of Jeff chasing a bouncing toddler through the kids' park at the end of the street, a laughing Jenny watching them from a bench, swollen with baby number two. All of a sudden, Hallie's life was starting to look like the more mundane option. She'd immediately grabbed the bottle of red from the kitchen counter, half empty from the afternoon she'd spent soaking in the bath yesterday. The highlight of her entire weekend. Alone.

Scraping her fingers through the short hair at the back of her head, Hallie lets out a frustrated groan. This gloomy feeling is raining all over her Probationary Field Training parade, and she's sick of it. Draining the rest of her glass, she sits up to take an overview of her master plan. Focusing intently on clawing back the pride and satisfaction that had filled her to the brim in the captain's office this morning, she grabs her phone from the couch behind her and pulls up Pop in her contacts. It rings only twice before his joy-crinkled face fills the screen.

"Hey there, Hallie-Pallie. What's happening?"

Hallie inhales deeply as her shadowy mood brightens just a bit, a face-splitting grin bringing an ache to her cheeks while her father holds the phone mere inches from his bulbous nose.

"Hey, Pop. Not much, not much. Just planning the most epic PFT course in this station's history."

"Well now, isn't that a headline and a half! No doubt you'll whip those rookies into shape in no time. Tell me all about it."

They fall into an easy chatter, the squeeze in Hallie's chest easing with every new exercise she describes for her Pop's enthusiastic approval.

"Sheesh, Hallie. What a rodeo! I'm starting to think I'd never have made it through training if you were lieutenant back in my day."

"Ah, don't be ridiculous, Pop. I'm only throwing at them everything you ever taught me." Her chest fills with pride again, but this time not for herself. This gentle giant of a man beaming back at her, impossible to contain within the few inches of phone screen, is the sole reason she ever wanted to be a firefighter in the first place.

Andrew Hunter—Sandy to his nearest and dearest—is the retired chief of the Eureka County Fire Brigade, and Hallie's biggest hero. Growing up his only daughter, in a county populated by less than two thousand people, she'd always regarded Chief Hunter as something of a legend. Moving to a city ten times the size hadn't robbed her of that belief in the slightest.

Her gaze settles warmly on the family photo propped up on the shelf above her TV. There's Sandy, planting a sloppy kiss on the rosy cheek of Hallie's Ma, Marie, while her head is thrown back, mid-laugh. Then down in front there's little Hallie, wide grin revealing two missing teeth, and bright blonde pigtails being held above her head like bunny ears by her big brother, Gavin. It strikes her how weedy he looks, barely scraping thirteen, while thirty years later he's a captain in the raucous Las Vegas District. Two legacy firefighters, smiling like loons on a camping trip with their loved-up parents.

This time the wave of sadness crashes into Hallie faster than she can think to take a breath.

"Whoa there, Pallie. Where'd you go? You look like you've been eaten by a black cloud."

"Huh? Oh no, nothing, Pop. I'm all good. Just got a lot of work to do, you know? I'll let you go."

Hallie struggles to maintain eye contact with her father's concerned frown, sure that he sees right through her hasty cover story. But he doesn't need to know she's wallowing in her own self-pity on the day she's supposed to be celebrating.

Not that he wouldn't understand.

Mom and Pop spent their twenties in Vegas, like Gavin chose to do a generation later. Pop, the fearless firefighter and Ma, the badass ER nurse. They only ended up moving back to Eureka because Pop's mom got sick, choosing to start their family once life had slowed right down.

Sure, Hallie knew if she shared her fears with them, that she'd missed her shot at the happy family life because she was too busy chasing the big career, they'd understand. But she isn't one for family therapy, and she couldn't bear to resent her parents even a tiny bit for seemingly having everything they've ever wanted in life. No, she clamps down on the emotions and forces a big grin, most likely a mere ghost of the one she'd shown when Pop first answered her call.

"Mm-kay, whatever you say. Don't work yourself to death, hon. We're here if you need us. Love you."

"Love you, Pop. Give a kiss to Mom for me. Speak soon."

She hangs up the phone and sits for a moment, still cross-legged on her living room floor, until the silence begins to close in again.

Screw it, I need another glass of wine.