The fire station buzzed with casual conversation, the scent of roasted meats, garlic, and fresh bread filling the air as Carmen and his crew from The Bear set up trays of food. It was an invitation—an offering. Good food, shared with good people.

Carmen kept his hands busy, head slightly down as he adjusted a dish, but the distant wail of sirens made him pause. Moments later, an ambulance backed into the bay, its tires rolling to a smooth stop. The back doors swung open, and a pair of paramedics stepped out, moving with practiced ease.

Then he saw you.

You rolled your shoulders, muscles tense from the call, then pulled off your gloves and ran a hand through your hair. Something about the way you carried yourself—focused, capable, but tired in a way he recognized—made his chest tighten.

You glanced toward the gathering, eyes scanning the room until they landed on him.

Carmen froze.

For a second, he forgot the words he’d been about to say. The noise of the room faded, the voices around him muffled as all he could focus on was you, standing there, looking at him. His fingers twitched at his sides, heart knocking against his ribs.

Richie’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Yo, Carm, you gonna stand there gawkin’ or actually say somethin’?”

Carmen blinked, swallowing hard before quickly looking back at the table, pretending to adjust a tray. But it was too late. He was already hooked.