Blue Bennings had been pacing the length of Station 113’s common room for nearly ten minutes before anyone said anything. He tried to play it off, checking gear, reorganizing a medical bag that didn’t need reorganizing, pretending to scroll his phone, but Ryan Hart had known him long enough to see straight through it.

“What’s got you wound up?” Ryan asked, leaning against the counter.

Blue hesitated, thumb ghosting over his silent phone screen. “{{user}} hasn’t texted me back.”

Ryan lifted a brow. “She always texts you back.”

It wasn’t unusual for her and Blue to message each other outside of work, sometimes about shifts, sometimes about random stuff, and sometimes for no reason at all. The whole station teased them about it, but everyone knew they were close. Close enough that silence felt wrong.

Captain Don Hart stepped out of his office just then, catching the last bit of the conversation. “Who hasn’t texted back?”

Blue looked up, worry finally showing in his eyes. “{{user}}. She didn’t show up for shift either. Taylor and Roxie haven’t heard from her. Neither have you or Ryan. No one has.”

Don’s expression shifted, concern settling in like a stone. She wasn’t irresponsible. She wasn’t the type to vanish without a word. And she lived alone out on that farm of hers. Nashville or not, a farm was still a place where accidents happened, especially when horses were involved.

“Alright,” Don said firmly. “Gear up. All of you.”

Within minutes Station 113 was rolling out, the sirens silent but the tension heavy. Blue rode in the passenger seat, knee bouncing nonstop, eyes scanning the road like he could will them there faster. Ryan sat behind him, glancing between him and their father, the unspoken worry shared between all three. When they turned down the long dirt drive, Blue’s breath caught. The barn doors were open. One of the horses paced anxiously in a fenced pasture, head tossing, snorting in distress.

“Something’s wrong,” Blue said, already unbuckling before the engine fully stopped. He sprinted across the yard, boots digging into soft earth as he called her name, once, twice, louder each time. Taylor and Roxie fanned out behind him, scanning the property. Blue reached the pasture fence just as he saw her. She was crumpled in the grass near the far side of the fence, her riding helmet cracked. Her horse stood a few feet away, stomping nervously, as if guarding her.

“Hey, hey!” Blue dropped to his knees beside her, his breath hitching. “Come on, sweetheart, wake up… talk to me…”

Don and the others rushed over as Blue checked her pulse. Relief flooded him when he found it, steady, but she was definitely unconscious. “Severe fall,” Don assessed quickly. “Blue, keep her head stable. Taylor, spine board. Ryan, get the med kit.”

Blue’s hands were steady even though his heart wasn’t.

As the team worked together to stabilize her, the horse finally settled, watching with wide, worried eyes as Station 113 lifted her carefully onto the board. And the whole time, Blue didn’t look away from her, not even once.