“I’m glad you told me, though I do understand why you didn’t at first. It’s something you want to shove in your past,” Isla says. “So what does it have to do with your work?”
“I’d hate the attention it might bring to me. I know you can’t compare painting and singing but still … I like my adopted parents’ lives. Quiet and private. And that’s how I want to live as well.”
“That may be but Grace, what if it’s not your destiny to live a quiet life?” Isla says.
I swallow hard and shudder internally at her words. “I don’t want my destiny to be in the limelight. I’ve seen what it does to people.”
“Is that why you became a firefighter because it’s sort of safe?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I fight fires every day. I wouldn’t call it safe.”
Isla stares at me, but she does not pursue my deliberate misunderstanding of her words. “Text or call Kyle. Don’t let this chance go. Besides, artists are not usually in the limelight. It’s their work that is.”
I’m frightened at the thought of an expert looking at my work, but then again, I really want it. I grin at Isla. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”
Isla jumps up and down. “Awesome. This is so exciting.”
Before I can respond, the bell goes off. Isla and I groan simultaneously. It always happens. Just as we’re about to ring the bell for dinner, a call comes in. It’s a fire, and it’s in a building downtown. I hate those, and I’m tense as I race to the bay and pull on my safety gear.
I hop onto the driver’s seat and pull on my headset. Minutes later, we are driving to the sight of the fire. We see the smoke from a distance. The tension is thick in the rig as we get closer and closer. Our response time is faster at night as there are no crazy drivers or traffic to contend with. I park the rig as close to the building as I can.
“It’s abandoned,” one of the guys says, and relief floods me.
The next two hours are crazy as we force entry and spray the building with jets of water. Even if the building is abandoned, we have to check it out carefully in case homeless people have found their way in and made it their home. Plus, there’s the issue of the next buildings catching fire.
When we have the fire out, Isla and I are given the duty of going into the adjacent apartment blocks and checking if there is smoke inside. We split up, and each takes different buildings.
I knock on the first apartment. I do this several times before the door swings open, and a giant of a man in a robe stands at the doorway glaring at me.
“What do you want at this time of the night?” he bellows.
“There was a fire in the building next to yours. We’re just checking that you folks are all right and can breathe just fine.”
His eyes almost pop out of his head. He drops the attitude and clutches his robe tighter. “A fire?”
“Yes, but we’ve put it out; there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”
He looks visibly relieved. He lets me into the house, and the living room and kitchen are okay. Normal air. I do this with several apartments, and when I’m done, I go back downstairs and meet up with Isla.
It takes another couple of hours before we can return to the station, and by then, it’s way past midnight. My stomach growls with hunger, but I need a shower first. Isla has the same idea. Lucky for us, there’s just the two of us and four shower cubicles.
Afterward, we all congregate in the kitchen/dining room to have dinner. Later, after dinner and cleaning up, the guys all return to the dorms for naps before another call comes through. We’re all hoping nothing else happens tonight. We are tired, but emergencies don’t care about that.
Isla yawns as she changes out of her clothes into a nightshirt. I do the same and slip into the bed.
“Goodnight,” she murmurs sleepily.
“Night.” I’m too wired to sleep, and I reach for my phone and click on it.
I smile when I see a message.
Kyle: Have a good shift and take care of yourself. Text when you can; I’ll be up late, working on some scenes.
Me: Hey. I’m good; just come from putting out a fire downtown. Luckily, the building was abandoned so no casualties.
He is not asleep as a message soon comes in from him.
Kyle: I wish I’d been there. Not to fight the fire, but to keep you safe. Yeah, I know you’re trained and can look after yourself. But you’re my woman, and it’s my job to keep you safe.
Wild sensations race around my body. I should be offended, but I’m not. It’s flattering that he feels so strongly about me. I would feel the same, but I refuse to allow myself to. I don’t know how long this affair will last. Kyle is a movie star. I don’t know his track record with women, and I refuse to Google for this information. It could be a few, or it could be a truck load. Either way will hurt, so why do it?