"Matt!" Trev calls as I walk into the garage.

He jumps down from the back of engine 44 and high-fives me. "What's up?" I ask.

"You're cutting it close today," he says, looking down at his watch, "don't wanna be late for your first shift as Lieutenant."

"I know, I got caught up on the way."

"You caught up? There must be a story there," Trev says, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I chuff as I make my way into the firehouse.

Trev follows me. "Oi! You're not getting out of it that easily. I want some details about the thing, or person, who held you up on your way in."

"Well, let's just say that I was the one doing the holding," I smirk for his benefit.

"My boys got moves!" Trev exclaims, thrusting his hips provocatively.

I chuckle, trying my best to shield my eyes from his movements. "Those moves had nothing to do with it. It was more-so my quick reflexes in stressed situations."

"Okay," he says, halting our movements, "you need to explain this one to me."

"I was walking to the station like I normally do, but today I chose to take a different route and grab a coffee. The next thing I know, there's this woman carelessly walking into the street with a delivery truck barrelling in her direction. I acted on instinct and pulled her backward, which caused her to fall into my arms."

"Shit. I don't care what you say, bud, but I'm counting that as one of your moves." I shake my head at his comment and continue towards the locker room. "But tell me about this girl. Was she cute?"

"Cute doesn't even begin to describe her, man. She's witty, smart, passionate-"

"Hold on. How do you know so much about her?"

"She bought me a coffee afterward as a thank you, and we got talking," I shrug, fumbling with the lock on my locker.

"Dude!" Trev exclaims, clamping my shoulder. "Tell me you're going to hit that."

Trev's words stick with me. Of course, I want to get with her, but something about Erin feels different. I don't quite know how to describe it. Even amongst her fumble, she still managed to catch my eye, and not in a life-saving manner. I saw her as more than a rescue mission, more than a frazzled damsel-in-distress. She's angelic, and heck, I need something like that in my life right about now. "I got her number," I admit.

"Yeah, buddy!" Trev whoops.

I roll my eyes at his response as I close my locker and head to the changing rooms. "I'll see you down there," I announce as I round the corner.

I've been waiting for this for my entire career, the day I debut as Lieutenant. I've worked my ass off over the last ten years to get here, and now that I finally have, it feels surreal. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, focusing on the small metal clasps attached to my collar – something so little to represent such an enormous milestone.

Becoming a Lieutenant has been my main focus for the past few years. It took president over most of the other things in my life. I honestly thought I would have much more accomplished in my personal life by age thirty-one; I thought I'd be married, maybe have a kid, live in a house. But none of those things have occurred. Instead, I continue to live in my glorified bachelor-pad and drive my beloved 2019 Chevrolet Silverado, the first car I ever purchased with all the top-line features. Is that all that I have to show for my life, my job title, and a car? It's pathetic.

I shake myself out of my thoughts. I can't let anything cloud my judgment today. I need to be my best, the leader that my Captain believes me to be. The safety of my men needs to be my top priority, and I can't let anything get in the way of that. I pull my phone from my jeans before placing them back down on the bench. I stare at Erin's number, wanting so badly to text her, but in the back of my mind, I know I shouldn't. It's not right to text her before a shift and then not be able to answer for a few hours. It's not fair to her or my patients. With that, I relock my phone and secure it in my chest pocket.

The stomp of my boots against the cement floor keeps me focused as I make my way to the garage. The rest of the crew is already hard at work completing chores when I walk in.

"Lieutenant!" Nigel roars as I pass engine 44.

I nod at him. It's hard to believe that engine 44 is my rig. I know its ins and outs like the back of my hand. And I do have to admit; I will miss driving her very much. I think it's a stupid rule that Lieutenants aren't allowed to drive the truck, but I guess it's precautionary, in case we have to answer an intense call from dispatch.

"Lieutenant," a woman's voice coos.

There are only four women who work out of station 118, but this woman is more than a part of my crew. Correction, she was more than a part of my crew. I was stupid to think that sleeping with a co-worker was a good idea. Clearly, one of us got more attached than the other. I once admired Cora for her strength and prosperity, but now I can't see past how she decided to fool around with half the house. That wasn't admirable at all. I can only thank God that she's not a member of my rig.

"Yes, Smith?" I say sternly.

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your first day," she flirts, trying to place a hand to my chest.

I know her smile is bullshit. She's only trying to get under my skin. "Get back to work," I retort before continuing my rounds.

I'm determined to have the best-run engine at the one-eighteen. Cordero and Thomas do an excellent job of running their rigs, but I'm committed to outdoing them. I need to prove not only to my crew but to myself that I deserve this promotion. But Cordero and Thomas have an advantage. Captain assigned the recruit, formally known as probee, to my rig. I assume this is the Captain's way of telling me to get back to basics, and not to let my new position go to my head.

"Probee," I announce. Probee – Jenkins – comes to attention, straightening the solid stick that the academy shoved up his ass. "Are you settling in, alright?"

"Yes, sir."

There's something about being called sir that fires me up. It screams authority and respect, two things that I am striving to achieve. "I wanted to take the time to welcome you to the one-eighteen and my engine personally. I hope that you feel at home here," I say, sounding sterner than I intended.

"Thank you, sir," Jenkins says, relaxing his form until the ringing of the station's siren jolts him back to attention.

"Attention, engine 44, aid car 36, accident at Nelson and Richard Street."

"Let's go, probee," I say, before I jog away to slip into my turnouts.