Voices bounced around the vehicle bay, drowning the classic rock station drifting from the radio and the hiss of oxygen tanks being refilled. Haustin ground his teeth together, a headache flaring behind his eyes, and tuned into the conversation, hoping it chased away his bad mood.

"So I told little Joe to wait a sec while I finished talking to my buddy, we were leaving soon and he could use the bathroom at home," Carl was saying, providing another hilarious story about his three-and-a-half-year-old son. "We left, walking the two blocks to our house, and I get a call. Apparently, Joe couldn't hold it and dropped a deuce right there on the back porch."

Laughter exploded, and Haustin couldn't take it anymore. He stood, pushing the bench away from him, and stalked outside, desperate for fresh air to clear his head. If only the serenity he'd felt with Miles three days ago would return. Instead, it had vanished later that night as he spent hours berating himself for waiting so long. Plus, he had yet to go back to see either Miles or Luna, proving he was a total deadbeat. How hard was it to drive there, an easy two hour round trip, and hang with them? Two hours of his day. It should be simple.

Footsteps approached, and his hackles rose.

"You know, we'd appreciate a little warning when your PMS comes," Abel teased.

"Maybe we can buy a calendar and you can draw black hearts on the days to avoid you." Alex added.

Haustin glared at them. "Watch it."

"Or what?"

He shook his head at Abel. "If you weren't my oldest friend..."

"You would be friendless," his buddy finished the thought.

"Bite me."

"No way." Abel leaned next to him. "Wouldn't want to risk an infection."

He felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. "I've seen the women you date. If I were you I wouldn't joke about infection."

Alex laughed, standing on the sidewalk with his hands looped in the suspenders of his bunker pants. Two young women strolled by, gawking and nearly tripping in their heels. Haustin growled. "You look like a damn FDNY centerfold or some shit. Get off the sidewalk, you're going to cause an accident."

"Speaking of women," Alex began as he moved out of the way, not sparing his audience a second glance, but Haustin was already cutting him off.

"Not talking about it."

"Why haven't you called her?" the jerk asked anyway. "I gave you the right number."

Abel chimed in. "I know you're rusty in the whole wooing department, but calling is required if you want to land the girl."

"And what exactly do I have to offer? She's practically New York royalty."

"Not this bullshit again," Abel groaned.

"You're forgetting she might be the only woman you'll ever meet who understands your prickly nature and history," Alex said. "Your shit's dark, hers is darker."

Haustin shook his head. "You don't understand."

"Care to enlighten us?" Abel asked.

"Nope."

"Fine," his best friend said as he pushed off the wall. "So, you don't mind if I call her up and ask her out?"

"That's a good idea," Alex encouraged.

A blast of nausea hit Haustin. Not because Abel was a bad guy. Hell, he was virtually a brother. He would be ten times better for her than Haustin would ever be.

"No." His lip curled, and he balled his fists.

They grinned at him like idiots, and he knew he'd been duped. He relaxed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'll call her."

"Maybe is for dumbasses," Abel remarked.

"How about the two of you get off my case?"

Before they came back with more insults, a cab pulled up in front of the firehouse, and he caught a glimpse of chestnut-colored hair through the window. Sweat broke out on his forehead, his skin tightened, and he licked his suddenly parched lips.

Alex clapped him on the shoulder. "Looks like this is your chance."

They disappeared into the vehicle bay as Yael stepped from the car, a thin yellow sundress swirling around her knees and reminding him of sunshine. She held a basket in her hands, its contents covered by a red and white checkered napkin.

"What brings you to my part of town?" His voice held a rough edge to it, and she paused.

"I wanted to see you again and someone had to make the first move." She narrowed her eyes. "And what do you mean 'my part of town'?"

He didn't reply for a long time, battling the need to be completely honest with her. "Nothing, just don't get why you're wasting your time here." He refused to meet her gaze, but from the corner of his eye, he saw blood rush to her cheeks.

"Is there a reason you're being an asshole?"

A barking laugh burst from his mouth, causing her to furrow her brows. "Sweetheart, there are a million reasons I'm an asshole."

"How about when it comes to me? Do you really still have a stick up your ass about where I live?"

"You are royalty in this town," he repeated what he'd told Abel only minutes ago. "I'm a mere peasant. I remember enough of my daughter's fairy tales to know it never ends well."

She cocked her head. "Then your memory is about as reliable as your ability to use a phone. It always ends well because the hero and heroine overcome all those stupid obstacles. Although now that I think about it, you're a lot like Shrek, than a typical prince."

Damn, she had a point. His shoulders drooped, and he struggled to speak, the truth spilling off his tongue. "You're right. I'm sorry. The other night blindsided me. I was a total jerk and I judged you based on your last name and where you grew up. I've never walked a girl home before who had a doorman and I could have handled it more maturely. I do still have your number." He pulled out the worn piece of paper and showed her. It'd been folded and refolded so many times the remaining numbers were hard to read. Didn't matter. He had them memorized anyway.

"You carry it around with you?"

Crap. Why had he shown her? She stared at him with her pretty lips dipped into a frown, as if he were a mystery she couldn't unravel. He drew in a bracing breath and leapt over the edge. "Yeah, but it's ripped."

"Ripped?"

"Couldn't read the last two numbers."

"Convenient."

"Alex got the correct one from Wendy's phone this morning."

She pinned him with a narrowed gaze. "And how long would I have waited until you used that one?"

Damn, she sounded like Abel. "Can we start over?"

"I'd love nothing more. I'm here, aren't I?"

A tiny piece of his wall crumbled, the same as it did the other day with Miles. He grinned tentatively at her. "Believe it or not I did think about you every day."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment."

Haustin let another laugh slip, causing Yael to blink in confusion. "I'll say it again, I'm sorry, Yael. Trust me, they were good thoughts. Will you let me buy you dinner? To redeem myself?"

"I'm trying to keep up here." She shifted her weight restlessly. "If I say yes, do you promise not to storm off in a huff at the end of the night?"

"I don't plan on it, but I also don't see me changing my entire personality that quick, so it's not a promise I can make."

"Do you always have such drastic mood swings?" He just crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. "Yeah, not sure I want to know the answer to that one. Anyway, I'd love to have dinner."

"Tonight?"

"Sure."

"Pick you up at seven?"

"Perfect. You know where I live," she teased, shifting the basket to the crook of her arm. "I brought brownies and banana bread for you and your crew."

"Oh, God, they're going to love you. Let me carry those." He reached for the goodies.

"Are you going to share?"

"I can't make that promise." Then, he blurted, "I saw you."

"Where?"

"At the crane site. You left before I had a chance to say hi."

She narrowed her gaze. "Would you have come over and said hi?"

"Yes."

She nailed him with a disbelieving stare.

"You left," he repeated. "Were the memories too much?"

"It took me by surprise, and now I feel a little idiotic, but it happens. I survived."

"I had the pleasure of meeting your CEO. He was ... pleasant." Haustin left off the part about being jealous of their apparent friendship.

"You witnessed his good side." She rewarded him with a full smile. "Actually, Casey isn't bad. He's been a great help to me at work."

"Still seemed like a dick." He changed the subject, not wanting to waste their time talking about another guy. "Wanna come in and check out the firehouse?"

"I'd love to," she said as he put his free hand lightly on her upper back and guided her in, the naked skin hot against his palm.

They walked past the enormous gleaming red engine with '12' on the door and the smaller rescue vehicle. Ladder 99 sat on the other side, taking up more space.

"Why two trucks?" she asked.

"12 is the engine, the water truck. Carries the hose and pumps. The ladder is just that—the ladder. Some houses have one or the other. We're bigger, have a large crew, and work in a busy part of the city, a lot of taller buildings, too, so having both is convenient."

"I never knew there was a difference."

"Not many do. They think a fire truck is a fire truck."

Abel appeared, followed by Alex, and Haustin prepared himself for their stares and smug remarks. They were both already grinning like buffoons.

Alex was the first to speak and embraced Yael in a friendly hug. "Hey, Yael. I was beginning to wonder if Wendy would ever come home last night. I'm not used to sharing her."

"We had a lot of catching up and gossiping to do." Yael smirked.

"Which in girl talk translates to they talked about you, Alex," Abel said. Then he held out his hand to her. "I'm Abel, the unlucky bastard who tries to keep these two buttheads in line."

"I pity you." She smirked. "It's nice to meet you."

They chatted for a few minutes, and Haustin watched her. If she was nervous, it didn't show. She had quick humor, and he realized it must have taken a lot of courage to show up here today, not knowing what his reaction would be. He noticed Yael's stare wandering around the house. When it stopped, he knew what had caught her attention. She drew closer to it, and he followed, accompanied by Abel and Alex.

A battered helmet bearing their barely visible engine number, a scorched fireman's Pulaski axe, and a bent nameplate were attached to a display. Above each item was an 8x10 picture and name, a 9/11 memorial he and the guys had put together to honor their fallen brothers, ten feet long, taking up most of the wall.

"These are the men we lost. Most firehouses in Manhattan display something similar. We wanted to remember them, so everyone pitched in to construct it. It will be here as long as the house is," Haustin explained. As many times a day as he walked past, he was rarely able to look at it.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Simple."

"For Paulie and Hank, the axe and the nameplate are the only things they ever found," Abel added. "I guess we should be thankful. There are too many victims whose remains were never recovered at all. Last I heard over a thousand are still listed as missing. There's no trace of them, or what the ME's do have only fits into a test tube."

Next to Haustin, Yael shuddered, and her stare turned distant. "You okay?"

As soon as he asked, a realization hit him firmly in the gut. She must be thinking of her parents. Were they part of the unidentified? Did she even know if any remains were recovered? He floundered for the right words to say to her but came up empty.

She sighed, confirming his suspicions. "Seeing this reminds me of everything I missed by skipping town. New York must have been a completely different city after."

"It was and, in a lot of ways, still is," Abel answered. "Downtown was quiet, apocalypse quiet. For months strangers stopped in and gave us baked goods or gloves or simply to say thanks. It was a lot of pressure to live up to. The FDNY was thrust into the spotlight, which had its good and bad results."

They all stared at the plaque in silence, lost in their memories. The past wrapped its fingers around each of them. Haustin felt it, a physical presence right there in the vehicle bay filling the air with grief.

"I miss those treats," Alex joked, earning chuckles and erasing the melancholy.

"Luckily I've got fresh ones here." She took the basket from Haustin, drawing Abel and Alex closer and preventing the conversation from traveling down a dark road.

"Thanks, Little Red Riding Hood," Abel told her.

"Guess that makes you the big, bad wolf?"

The ghosts vanished from her face as she teased Abel, and Haustin's heart felt unnaturally light. It amazed him how twenty short minutes ago he'd been in the clutches of a crippling lousy mood. Now, after being with Yael, it faded. He just had to work hard and make sure it stayed that way.