Page 36 of Nanny for the Firefighters

"So, what's the plan for today?" Ethan asks, loading his plate with a stack of pancakes.

"Well," I start between sips of coffee, "we've got a community outreach event this afternoon. Gotta show the kids around, let them climb on the truck, scare the living daylights out of their parents with the sirens. Usual stuff."

Theo grins. "Nice. I love seeing their faces light up. Makes all the paperwork worth it."

"And speaking of paperwork," Will butts in, setting his book down, "I've been going over the budget proposals. We might actually get that new equipment we've been asking for."

"That's great news, Axe," I reply. Will's always the one with the numbers, the plans, the strategies. Without him, we'd be lost in a sea of red tape and bureaucracy.

"Yeah, and with that new sensor, we'll be even more of a well-oiled machine," Theo adds, looking proud of his latest invention.

I lean back, surveying my crew. "You guys are the best. Seriously. Couldn't ask for a better team."

"Careful, Cap. You're getting all mushy on us," Ethan teases, throwing a piece of pancake at me. I dodge it easily.

It feels good to have a rare slow day. The hours hum along, the usual mix of drills, maintenance, and friendly banter. We're in the middle of a particularly heated debate about the best BBQ sauce—Kansas City versus Texas—when the shrill tone of the Amber Alert pierces through the station. Instantly, every bit of lightheartedness evaporates, replaced by a tense, electric silence.

Ethan drops the wrench he's holding, his easy grin vanishing. "What's it say, Mac?" His voice is tight, every word a strain.

I glance at the screen, my gut twisting. The photo of a little girl, Sarah, just five years old, stares back at me. Her bright eyes and innocent smile are a stark contrast to the grim reality of the alert. The description includes notice of a suspicious van spotted near our district.

Will's expression, usually relaxed with a hint of mischief, hardens. "Damn," he mutters, his voice low. "This is the stuff of nightmares."

Theo, the perpetual joker, is uncharacteristically silent, his face pale. "We gotta find her," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

I scan the room, my gaze meeting each of theirs in turn. We're all thinking the same thing—this could be our kid. The fear, the urgency, it's palpable, a living, breathing entity that grips us all.

The steel walls of the firehouse can't keep out the chill. Not the physical one that clings to the air like a bad omen, but the one that gnaws at my insides. It's a familiar cold, one that has haunted me since the day Lily was born.

I think of my baby girl, her gap-toothed grin radiating pure joy. She's safe, I know.

I remember the day I held her for the first time, her tiny body swaddled in pink blankets. Vanessa never bonded with her. In fact, she blamed me for making her a mother when she wasn't ready.

Which was saying something because she was the one who wanted to start a family. I wanted to wait, to give it a few more years.

She was never around, not for the little milestones or the big ones. Lily was a massively colicky baby. The first few months were nothing but me holding her all night long, trying to burp her, trying to make sure the formula I gave her didn't upset her system, trying to be a different kind of soft.

But Lily was a fighter, just like her old man. She thrived despite the odds, her laughter filling the empty spaces in my life. I taught her to crawl, to walk, to talk. I was her protector, her provider, her everything.

Her mother never returned. Not for birthdays, not for holidays. But it didn't matter. We had each other.

It's how it will always be. I'm glad I got to do this solo, although it isn't something I would necessarily have chosen. I'm glad because I got to see how much love a tiny human being can hold. It's worth everything. It sums my whole existence.

I can't let anything happen to this kid.

"We need to move," I say tightly. "Let's find Sarah and get her home."

We're about to kick things into gear when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting another update from dispatch, but I see another name on the screen.

It's Ella.

Like clockwork, I remember something that makes my blood run cold. This morning, when I'd asked what the girls were planning to do, Ella had told me she planned on taking Lily out.

The van—it's in our district. There's a kidnapper at large. God knows how many children he's hurt.

My kid is out there. I'll be damned if I let anything happen to her.

Suddenly, a realization hits me with brute force. It's not just Lily, although she is everything to me. I also don't want anything to happen to Ella. In fact, I need her to be safe, untouched, unharmed.