The call floor at Nashville Emergency Services never really left Cammie Raleigh’s ears, even when she stepped outside. Sirens echoed in memory. Voices layered over each other. Addresses, codes, urgency. She carried it all with her. That was the job.

And tonight, it followed her all the way to the Hart ranch house.

Cammie stood on the porch for a moment before knocking, steadying herself in a way she hadn’t needed to in years. She had talked strangers through their worst moments without hesitation.

But this? This was different. Because this time, it was her baby: {{user}}, who wanted to be a firefighter.

The door opened to Blythe Hart, warm as ever, her expression softening immediately. “Cammie, hey, come in.”

Cammie stepped inside, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks.”

The house smelled like something fresh from the oven, familiar and grounding. But her thoughts were elsewhere, across town, at Firehouse 113. Where {{user}} was. With Don Hart. With Ryan. Learning. Seeing. Deciding.

Blythe gestured her toward the kitchen, already reaching for two mugs. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Cammie said softly.

She wrapped her hands around the mug when it was offered, holding it more for comfort than anything else.

“{{user}}’s at the station?” Blythe asked gently.

Cammie nodded. “Tour. Gear. All of it.” A small exhale. “They’re excited.” There was something fragile in the way she said it.

Blythe leaned against the counter, watching her carefully. “And you’re scared.”

Cammie let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “I send people like Don and Ryan into danger every day,” she admitted. “I hear the calls before they even get there. I know what they’re walking into.”

Her grip tightened slightly around the mug. “Now I’m picturing {{user}} on the other end of that radio.”

The words hung heavy.

“I lost Mark,” she added, quieter now. “Not like that, but loss is loss. And I just…” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can handle waiting for that call. Wondering if it’s them.”

Blythe didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush to fix it. She just listened.

“That’s the thing,” Cammie continued. “I’m proud of them. I am. They want to help people. They’ve got the heart for it.” A pause. “But having the heart for it means they’ll run toward things most people run from.”

Silence settled between them for a moment, thick but not uncomfortable. Blythe finally spoke, her voice calm and steady. “You don’t stop being scared.”

Cammie looked up at that.

“Not when Don walks out the door. Not when Ryan does either,” Blythe went on. “You learn how to live with it. Some days better than others.”

Cammie swallowed.

“I used to think if I worried enough, I could keep them safe,” Blythe added, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. “Doesn’t work like that.”

Cammie huffed softly. “Yeah. I figured.”

Another quiet moment passed before Blythe stepped closer, resting a gentle hand over Cammie’s. “They’re not walking into it alone,” she said. “That’s the part you hold onto.”

Cammie nodded slowly, though the worry didn’t disappear, it just… shifted. Less overwhelming. More manageable. “They really want this,” she murmured.

Blythe smiled faintly. “Sounds like someone we both know.”

That earned a small, genuine laugh from Cammie.