Blue Bennings had never felt more out of place than he did after that argument.

Don’s voice still echoed in his head, and Dixie’s words had only made it worse. He wasn’t aware Don was his father and the news had come to a shock, the man who led the fire station he worked so hard to join was his… father.

Blue wasn’t sure now. So he drove.

He didn’t have a destination. Just the open Tennessee roads, the hum of his classic ’66 Mustang beneath him, and the old ache in his chest telling him maybe… maybe he wasn’t cut out for the firefighter life. Maybe he should go back to what he knew. The adrenaline, the performances, the familiar haze of being an adult dancer.

Except… except he thought of her. {{user}}.

The firefighter who trained beside him. Pushed him. Never let him quit. Never looked at him like he wasn’t enough. She saw potential in him before he ever did, not because he was a Hart, not because he was Don’s son, but because he was Blue. And he mattered.

Blue’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Maybe he needed her voice in his head more than he liked to admit. His eyes then drifted to the sidewalk ahead and that’s when he saw them.

A group of kids. Laughing, backpacks bouncing as they headed toward the crosswalk. Then, headlights weaving violently behind them. A drunk driver.

Blue reacted before he even realized what he was doing. He slammed the brakes, yanked the wheel, and cut across the lane, positioning his Mustang between the children and the incoming car. Metal shrieked. The world blurred.

The impact hit like a freight train. The Mustang flipped, once, twice, glass exploding around him like stars. He felt the crunch of metal, the slam of his shoulder, the tearing pain across his ribs.

Then everything stopped. Smoke filled the air. Something hissed. He could smell gasoline and heat, too much heat.

His Mustang, his pride, his last tie to the life he once lived, sparked violently. Blue tried to move, but the seatbelt pinned him. Blood trickled into his eyes. His breaths were shallow, wet. He tasted copper.

Then the fire caught. A roaring WHOOSH ignited behind him. He knew what was coming.

And suddenly all he could think of… was her. {{user}} shoving a water bottle into his hand after he passed the stamina test.

He whispered her name, barely audible over the crackling flames.

“...{{user}}…”

He hoped she’d know, somehow, that she mattered more than anything. That she was the reason he tried. That if this was the end…

Sirens wailed in the distance. He blinked, his vision blurring. The world dimmed around the edges. The heat clawed up his legs, and he couldn’t tell if he was shaking or if everything else was.

Through the ringing in his ears, he recognized the sound of the engine. Station 113. His team. His family. His father, Captain Don Hart, barking orders as soon as they skidded onto the scene. Ryan’s voice shouting his name. Paramedics Taylor and Roxie right behind him.