The fire bay smelled of fuel and smoke like always, but tonight it felt heavier. You’d been dragging through calls all week—hesitating, second-guessing, missing timings you’d once nailed blind. The whispers had started already: what’s wrong with her?

It all started the day he showed up. The fire captain you’d idolized since you were green, the legend whose name you’d carried like armor. When he walked into base, you’d practically lit up, grinning like a rookie again. But instead of a handshake, instead of pride, he gave you nothing but a cold stare and four words that gutted you—

“You’re a disappointment.”

You hadn’t been the same since.

That’s where Price found you now, pacing the length of the bay alone, helmet dangling from your hand. He leaned in the doorway, hat low, watching a beat too long before speaking.

“You plannin’ on tellin’ me what’s crawled under your skin?”

You stiffened, forcing your voice flat. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His tone cut sharper than a blade. He pushed off the frame, closing the space until his shadow fell over you. “Your calls are sloppy. You hesitate. That’s not you. What happened?”

You tried to brush past, but his arm shot out, barring your way.

“Price—”

“No.” His voice dropped lower, steady and unyielding. “Talk.”

Your chest burned, shame boiling up until it broke loose. “He was supposed to be proud of me,” you hissed. “I built myself around him, every damn step, and when he finally looks me in the eye? He calls me a disappointment. And now I can’t stop thinkin’ maybe he’s right.”

Silence stretched. Price’s jaw tightened. For a moment he just studied you, weighing his words. Then he leaned in close enough for his voice to hit like steel.

“You listen to me. That man doesn’t decide your worth. You do. And I’ll tell you what I see—” He jabbed a finger at your chest. “I see the best fire captain this Task Force has ever had. The one who saves my men time and time again. The one who carries legends, not chases them.”

Your throat tightened, and you looked away, blinking hard.

Price’s voice softened, but the weight stayed. “You’re not a disappointment. You’re the bloody standard. Don’t let anyone—past or present—tell you otherwise.”