Author’s Note
Welcome to the Fire Squad reader family! I’m so thrilled you’ve joined us, and as a special thank-you, I’ve created this exclusive prequel story just for my newsletter subscribers.
“Behind the Flames” takes place several months before the first book in my Firefighters of Ember Cove series, giving you a delicious behind-the-scenes look at the charity calendar photoshoot that had the whole town talking. This is where it all began, before any of our heroes met the women who would change their lives forever.
I hope you enjoy this little gift and your introduction to the brotherhood of Station 67. I can’t wait to hear which firefighter becomes your favorite!
Happy reading!
Read on this page or download the epub version
PART 1: THE ANNOUNCEMENT
The tension in the station’s common room was thick enough to cut with the Jaws of Life. Fire Chief Parker stood at the head of the long wooden table, arms crossed over his broad chest, his salt-and-pepper eyebrows drawn together in determination. The morning briefing had gone as usual until he’d dropped those five dreaded words: “Mandatory charity calendar participation this year.”
A collective groan rose from the assembled firefighters of Station 67.
“No exceptions,” Chief Parker added, his voice leaving no room for argument. “The department needs this funding more than ever. Last year’s calendar barely covered the cost of updating our thermal imaging equipment. This year we need to do better.”
Captain Ethan Cole shifted uncomfortably in his chair. At thirty-five, he kept himself in excellent physical condition—the job demanded it—but the thought of posing half-naked for a calendar made his stomach knot. It had been three years since losing his wife to cancer, and the idea of putting himself out there, even for charity, felt wrong somehow. Like a betrayal.
“Chief,” Ethan began, his voice low, “I understand the importance, but surely there are other fundraising options we could explore.”
Chief Parker’s expression softened slightly. He’d known Ethan since he was a rookie, had watched him rise through the ranks, had been there through the darkest days after Ethan’s wife passed. “Cole, I know this isn’t your style. But we’ve tried bake sales, car washes, and donation drives. Nothing brings in money like the calendar.”
From across the table, Ryan Walker’s face split into a wide grin. At thirty, the station’s resident charmer was all too happy to show off the physique he maintained with religious dedication.
“I call July,” Ryan announced, leaning back in his chair with hands behind his head, displaying impressive biceps. “Peak summer. Peak abs. It just makes sense.”
Marcus Davis, seated beside Ryan, rolled his eyes. At thirty-eight, the veteran firefighter had seen too many of these calendars come and go. “It’s not a modeling contract, Walker. It’s a department fundraiser.”
“A fundraiser where the ladies of Ember Cove get to appreciate what tax dollars pay for,” Ryan countered with a wink. “And I aim to give them their money’s worth.”
“The photographer will be here next week for the planning meeting,” Chief Parker continued, ignoring the banter. “Natalie Moretti. She’s a friend of Lily Owen, that kindergarten teacher from Shoreline Elementary. Natalie’s in art school, building her portfolio. She’s doing this at a discount.”
Ethan made a mental note of the name. The department did regular safety demonstrations at local schools, and having a professional photographer would be a step up from the usual amateur shots they used for promotional materials.
“I’ve scheduled the shoots throughout next month,” the Chief continued. “We’ll use locations around Ember Cove—the station, the harbor, maybe the lighthouse.”
At the mention of the lighthouse, Ethan’s attention snapped back. Harbor Point Lighthouse had been his refuge these past few years. The one place in town where he could think clearly, where the constant weight of responsibility lifted slightly. The idea of turning it into a beefcake photo backdrop felt wrong.
“Sir,” Marcus spoke up, his deep voice cutting through Ethan’s thoughts. “Are you participating as well?” The question hung in the air, followed by poorly concealed snickers.
Chief Parker’s mouth twitched. “I’ll be January. Because it’s cold, and I’ll be fully dressed in my formal uniform.” This earned a round of laughter that broke some of the tension.
“Look,” the Chief continued once the room quieted, “I know some of you aren’t thrilled about this. But Station 67 needs new equipment. The backup generator is on its last legs, and I don’t need to remind anyone what happened during last winter’s power outage.”
The room sobered immediately. Three days without power during the worst storm in a decade had tested their resources to the breaking point.
“So we’re clear?” Chief Parker asked, scanning the faces of his team. “Everyone participates, everyone plays nice with the photographer, everyone helps sell these calendars like your jobs depend on it. Because in some ways, they do.”
Nods circled the table, even from the reluctant.
“One more thing,” the Chief added. “This year, we’re adding a twist. Each of you will be photographed doing something that showcases who you are beyond the uniform. Walker, that does not mean naked with strategically placed firefighter equipment.”
Ryan clutched his chest in mock offense. “Chief, you wound me. I was thinking more ‘saving a kitten while coincidentally flexing.'”
Ethan found himself smiling despite his reservations. Ryan’s antics were often the bright spot during difficult shifts. The kid was a shameless flirt, but he was also one of the best firefighters Ethan had ever worked with—fearless in a fire, endlessly compassionate with victims.
“Davis,” Chief continued, “you’re our rescue specialist. We’ll highlight that.”
Marcus nodded stoically. What he lacked in words, he made up for in action. The man could cut through a car like it was made of butter, extracting victims with a precision that bordered on surgical. With three academy recruits due to join the station after graduation next month, Marcus would likely be assigned as training officer—a role he took as seriously as everything else.
“Cole,” Chief Parker turned to Ethan last. “As Captain, I want you for December. End the year strong.”
Ethan nodded, resigned. December. The month of his wedding anniversary. The universe had a cruel sense of humor.
“Alright, dismissed,” Chief Parker concluded. “Regular drills in twenty minutes. And for God’s sake, nobody go overboard with the spray tans this year. Rodriguez looked like an oompa-loompa last time.”
As the team dispersed, Ethan remained seated, fingering the wedding band he still wore on a chain around his neck. He’d moved it from his finger six months ago—progress, his therapist had called it.
The department psychologist had suggested he might be ready to “put himself out there” again. Ethan disagreed, but hadn’t bothered arguing. Easier to nod along than explain how the thought of moving on still felt impossible some days.
“You good?” Marcus asked, lingering by the table while the others filed out.
Ethan pocketed the ring and stood. “Yeah. Just thinking that whoever buys this calendar is in for a disappointment when they flip to December and get the grumpy widower instead of Walker’s abs.”
Marcus clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You underestimate the appeal of stoic suffering. Women eat that up.”
Ethan snorted. “I’m not suffering stoically. I’m annoyed loudly.”
“Tell that to your face,” Marcus replied with a rare smile. “Come on, Captain. If we have to do this, might as well make the other stations jealous. Station 43’s calendar last year looked like they recruited exclusively from retirement homes.”
As they walked toward the equipment bay for drills, Ethan glanced at the station’s wall of photos—generations of Ember Cove firefighters standing proud before this same building. Among them, a picture from five years ago: Ethan with his arm around his late wife at the station picnic, both smiling beneath the summer sun, unaware of the diagnosis that would come just weeks later.
Maybe this calendar wasn’t the worst idea. Maybe it was time to create new memories, to be seen again—not just as the grieving widower, but as Captain Ethan Cole of Station 67. The man he was becoming, not just the man he’d been.
“Fine,” he muttered to himself as he pushed through the door. “December it is.”
PART 2: PREPARATION & INSECURITIES
Murphy’s Gym was more crowded than usual for a Thursday evening. The distinctive clang of weight plates echoed through the cavernous space as Ethan Cole adjusted the barbell for his fifth set of bench presses. Two weeks had passed since Chief Parker’s calendar announcement, and the men of Station 67 had collectively migrated to the gym with newfound dedication.
Ethan wouldn’t admit it out loud, but pride had kicked in. If he was going to be December, he’d make damn sure he represented the station well.
“Looking a little shaky on that last rep, Captain,” Ryan called from the squat rack, where he was powering through a set that would make most men weep. Sweat glistened across his shoulders as he added another plate to each side of the bar.
“Just pacing myself, Walker,” Ethan replied, sitting up to wipe his face with a towel. “Unlike some people, I don’t need to peak three weeks early and then crash before the shoot.”
From the cable machine, Marcus Davis observed the exchange with his usual stoic expression. The veteran firefighter moved through his routine with methodical precision, each rep perfectly controlled. No wasted motion, no showing off—just the same disciplined approach he brought to everything.
“Davis doesn’t seem worried,” Ryan noted, nodding toward Marcus. “Man’s built like he was carved from granite. Probably been that way since birth.”
Marcus merely grunted in response, but Ethan caught the slight uptick at the corner of his mouth. For Marcus, that was practically a belly laugh.
“Some of us work for this,” Ryan continued, gesturing to his own impressive physique. “Davis just exists and muscles happen.”
“Less talking, more lifting,” Marcus finally said, moving to the pull-up bar. He began a series of weighted pull-ups that drew admiring glances from several gym patrons.
The gym’s owner, former firefighter Jack Murphy, ambled over with a knowing grin. “Calendar season, huh? I can always tell when it’s that time of year. My protein shake sales triple and suddenly every Station 67 boy is in here like they’re prepping for the Olympics.”
“Just maintaining operational readiness,” Ethan replied with feigned seriousness.
Jack snorted. “Sure. And those extra ab circuits have nothing to do with looking good for the camera.” He crossed his tattooed arms over his barrel chest. “You boys want some advice from a five-time calendar veteran?”
“Enlighten us, oh wise one,” Ryan said, between sets.
“It’s not about being the most ripped,” Jack said. “It’s about the story each photo tells. My most popular year wasn’t when I had my best physique—it was when they photographed me with that family I pulled from the apartment fire on Cedar Street. Still had bandages on my hands.”
Ethan considered this. The calendar wasn’t just beefcake photos—it was about showcasing who they were as firefighters. The thought made the whole exercise slightly more palatable.
“I still want abs you could grate cheese on,” Ryan declared, prodding his already well-defined midsection. “July demands excellence.”
“You do realize normal people don’t memorize which firefighter is which month, right?” Marcus asked, completing another pull-up.
Ryan looked genuinely shocked. “Of course they do! Mrs. Abernathy at the bakery still calls me ‘Mr. September’ from two years ago.”
“That’s because you flirt with her every time you buy donuts,” Ethan pointed out.
“It’s called community relations,” Ryan replied with a wink.
The gym door swung open, and Dylan Rodriguez strolled in, looking suspiciously tan for early spring in Ember Cove.
“Tell me you didn’t,” Ethan groaned.
Dylan spread his arms wide, showcasing a distinctly orange hue. “What? It’s just a base coat!”
Ryan doubled over laughing. “Dude, you look like you fell into a vat of pumpkin spice!”
Even Marcus cracked a smile. “Didn’t the Chief specifically say no spray tans after last year?”
“This isn’t a spray tan,” Dylan protested. “It’s a tanning mousse. Totally different application technology.”
“You’re going to stain the equipment,” Jack warned, eyeing Dylan’s glistening arms with concern.
“It’ll dry,” Dylan insisted, though he eyed the white bench press pad dubiously. “Eventually.”
Ethan shook his head. “Rodriguez, did you learn nothing from the Great Orange Incident of last year? Your turnout gear was stained for months.”
“Excellence requires sacrifice,” Dylan said solemnly, before breaking into a grin. “Besides, I overheard Natalie talking to Chief about shooting me at the harbor. Sun reflection off water will wash me out if I’m not bronzed.”
“Natalie? First-name basis already?” Ryan waggled his eyebrows. “The photographer’s been at the station exactly once.”
“She’s cool,” Dylan shrugged. “Into food photography too. We talked recipes after the meeting.”
Ethan returned to the bench press, trying to focus on his workout rather than his growing unease about the whole calendar affair. The physical preparation was straightforward enough—he’d always maintained his fitness. It was the mental side that troubled him. The idea of putting himself out there, of being seen as anything other than just Captain Cole doing his job.
His wife had always handled the social aspects of his career. She’d been the charming one, the one who made small talk at department functions while he stood awkwardly nearby. Without her, these public-facing duties felt twice as daunting.
“You’re in your head again, Captain,” Marcus said quietly, appearing beside Ethan’s bench. The others had moved to the other side of the gym, with Ryan demonstrating what he called his “signature pose” to a thoroughly orange Dylan.
Ethan sat up, surprised by Marcus’s observation. The man wasn’t known for personal conversations. “Just thinking about technique,” he lied.
Marcus fixed him with a knowing look. “This is about December, isn’t it?”
Sometimes Ethan forgot how perceptive Marcus could be beneath that stoic exterior. “Anniversary’s in December,” he admitted after a pause. “First one was paper. We never made it to the third.”
Marcus nodded, absorbing this information without platitudes or uncomfortable sympathy. “Pick a different month then. Chief would understand.”
“And look weak in front of the team? No thanks.” Ethan reached for his water bottle. “It’s fine. It’s just a stupid calendar.”
“You’re allowed to still be grieving,” Marcus said, with unexpected gentleness from the usually gruff firefighter. “No one expects you to be over it.”
Ethan appreciated the sentiment, but three years felt too long to still be stuck. “I’m working on it,” was all he said.
Marcus seemed to accept this, giving Ethan’s shoulder a brief squeeze before moving back to his workout.
Across the gym, Ryan had attracted a small audience with his impromptu posing clinic. “The key is the smolder,” he was explaining to Dylan and Logan Price, the station’s rescue diver. “It’s all in the eyes. You have to look like you’re thinking about something deep and meaningful, but also like you might take your pants off.”
“That’s not a thing,” Logan protested, though he squinted experimentally at his reflection in the mirror.
“It absolutely is,” Ryan insisted. “Watch.” He demonstrated what could only be described as a smoldering look, somehow transforming his usual boyish charm into something decidedly more adult.
“That’s disturbing,” Dylan commented. “But also… effective?”
“Used it for September two years ago,” Ryan said proudly. “Mrs. Abernathy still fans herself when I order maple bars.”
Ethan couldn’t help but laugh, momentarily forgetting his worries. Whatever his personal misgivings, the calendar was good for the station. The funds they raised would equip them to better serve Ember Cove. And maybe, just maybe, it was time he stopped hiding behind his grief.
“Hey, Captain!” Ryan called. “Come learn the smolder! You need it more than any of us!”
“Hard pass, Walker,” Ethan replied, standing up from the bench. “Some of us prefer to maintain our dignity.”
“Dignity doesn’t sell calendars,” Ryan countered. “Sex appeal and hero vibes do.”
“I’ll stick with the hero part,” Ethan said firmly.
“Your loss,” Ryan shrugged. “Hey, has anyone heard where we’re all being photographed? I’m hoping for something dramatic for July.”
“Chief mentioned the lighthouse as a possibility,” Marcus said, returning to the conversation.
Ethan tensed slightly. The lighthouse was his sanctuary, his private place to think. The idea of it becoming a backdrop for beefcake photos felt wrong, especially for anyone other than himself. If someone was going to be photographed there, it should be—
He caught himself, surprised by the possessive thought. When had he started thinking of the lighthouse as his?
“I heard Natalie talking about different locations for different months,” Dylan chimed in. “Harbor for summer months, station for some of the others. I think she mentioned the lighthouse for December specifically—something about winter light and dramatic shadows.”
December. The lighthouse. Ethan should have felt relieved that at least his sanctuary would remain somewhat private. Instead, he felt a strange sense of rightness. If he had to do this calendar, at least he’d be in a place that meant something to him.
“Better you than me, Captain,” Ryan said. “That place is creepy in winter. All those storms and the foghorn.”
“It’s not creepy,” Ethan replied, more defensively than he intended. “It’s peaceful.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on Ethan’s tone. “Well, however Natalie wants to pose us, I’m game. For the department.”
“For the department,” the others echoed, even Ethan, though his mind remained on the lighthouse and the promise of December.
As they finished their workouts, Ethan caught sight of his reflection in the gym mirror. The man staring back at him was strong, capable—but there was a guardedness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before his wife’s illness. The calendar wouldn’t fix that. Nothing would. But maybe it was a step toward something new, a small movement forward when he’d been standing still for too long.
“Hey, Rodriguez,” he called to Dylan, who was carefully layering a towel over a bench before sitting. “Do the rest of us a favor and shower about ten times before the photoshoot. I don’t want our calendar nicknamed ‘Fifty Shades of Orange.'”
The laughter that followed felt good, felt normal—felt like maybe, just maybe, Ethan could find his way back to the man he used to be, even if the path looked different than he expected.
PART 3: THE PHOTOSHOOT DAY
Ember Cove Harbor glittered under the early morning sun, the water a canvas of diamonds as light danced across its surface. Natalie Moretti checked her camera settings for the third time, squinting through the viewfinder at the weathered dock where their first shoot would take place.
“The light is perfect,” she murmured to herself, making a slight adjustment to her aperture.
Behind her, Marcus Davis stood stoically in his station pants and suspenders, bare-chested and seemingly immune to both the morning chill and the curious stares from early risers passing by the harbor. He’d arrived fifteen minutes early—typical Marcus—and hadn’t complained once as Natalie’s assistant had applied a light layer of oil to his shoulders and chest to catch the light.
“We’ll start with you holding the rescue equipment,” Natalie instructed, gesturing to the coil of rope and rescue buoy they’d brought as props. “Face slightly away from the water, like you’re scanning the horizon for someone in trouble.”
Marcus nodded, his expression serious as he moved into position. Unlike Ryan, who’d been practicing poses in the station mirrors all week, Marcus approached the photoshoot like any other job: with focused professionalism.
Natalie circled him, camera clicking rapidly. “Perfect. Now shift your weight to your right leg. Hand on hip. Yes, exactly like that.”
From the edge of the dock, Ryan Walker let out a wolf whistle. “Work it, Davis! Channel your inner Aquaman!”
Marcus didn’t break his concentration, but the muscle in his jaw tightened slightly.
“You’re up after lunch, Walker,” Natalie reminded him without looking away from her viewfinder. “Plenty of time for you to be the center of attention then.”
“Just providing moral support,” Ryan replied cheerfully, perching on a nearby bollard. He was technically off-duty, but had shown up anyway, claiming it was “team solidarity.” More likely, he couldn’t bear to miss the entertainment.
Ethan stood a few paces back, arms crossed over his chest, monitoring both the photoshoot and the gradually gathering crowd of onlookers. As captain, he felt responsible for ensuring everything went smoothly—and that meant crowd control and making sure his men were comfortable. Marcus seemed unfazed, but Ethan knew from experience that the veteran firefighter’s stoic exterior revealed nothing of his inner thoughts.
“Looking good, Davis,” Ethan called, offering quiet support.
Marcus acknowledged him with the barest nod as he shifted into another pose, this time kneeling on one knee with the rescue rope draped over his powerful shoulders. The morning sun highlighted the definition in his arms and chest, casting shadows that accentuated each curve of muscle developed through years of hauling heavy equipment and rescuing civilians.
“Perfect,” Natalie said, rapidly changing angles. “The August shot needs to convey both strength and protection. You’re nailing it.”
“August is beach season,” Ryan commented. “Smart choice putting Davis here—those shoulders are practically geographical features.”
A small group of women walking by slowed their pace dramatically, one of them nearly tripping as she stared. Marcus pretended not to notice, but Ethan caught the slight flush creeping up his neck—the only visible sign of his discomfort with the attention.
“Could we get a few with the harbor as background?” Natalie asked, gesturing toward the water where fishing boats bobbed gently in their slips. “I want to capture that connection between the guardians of Ember Cove and the water that defines it.”
Marcus moved to the edge of the dock, positioned with his back to the camera, rescue buoy in hand as he gazed out over the water. The stance highlighted the broad expanse of his back, every muscle defined beneath sun-bronzed skin.
“That’s it,” Natalie murmured, camera clicking rapidly. “Now turn just slightly—profile—perfect.”
The morning progressed with Marcus rotating through various poses, each more dynamic than the last. Despite his initial reservations, he moved with a natural grace that made Natalie’s job easy. There was nothing forced or artificial about him—just raw strength and quiet confidence.
“Last few shots,” Natalie announced eventually. “Let’s try something with water. Would you mind getting the bottom of your pants wet? Just knee-deep?”
Marcus nodded, stepping carefully down the ladder at the side of the dock. The water reached mid-calf, dark against the tan of his skin. With the rescue rope coiled over one shoulder, he stood half-turned toward the camera, water lapping around his legs, morning sun creating a halo effect around his silhouette.
“That’s the money shot,” Natalie said, satisfaction evident in her voice. “August is officially wrapped.”
As Marcus climbed back onto the dock, Ethan handed him a towel. “Not so bad, right?”
“Could’ve been worse,” Marcus admitted, toweling off his legs. “At least I got the harbor. Familiar territory.”
Ryan bounded over, slapping Marcus on his still-oiled shoulder. “My man! You’re going to have Mrs. Abernathy forgetting all about Mr. September.”
“That’s your title, Walker,” Marcus replied dryly. “You can keep it.”
“Speaking of,” Natalie interrupted, checking her watch, “we should head to the station for Ryan’s shoot. The ladder truck should be ready by now.”
Back at Station 67, the massive red ladder truck gleamed in the midday sun, positioned in the driveway for maximum dramatic effect. Natalie’s assistant had set up reflectors to control the harsh noon light, creating a softer glow that would highlight rather than flatten.
Ryan emerged from the station in his turnout pants, suspenders, and helmet, conspicuously shirtless. Unlike Marcus’s understated approach, Ryan had clearly prepared for his moment. His abs looked like they’d been sculpted by a Renaissance master, each muscle group defined to perfection.
“July has arrived,” he announced, striking a pose that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else but somehow worked for him. “Let’s make calendar history.”
Chief Parker, observing from the station doorway, shook his head. “Remember this is for charity, Walker. We’re not auditioning you for Magic Mike.”
“Why not both?” Ryan winked, adjusting his helmet to what he clearly believed was a more photogenic angle.
Natalie circled the ladder truck, considering angles. “Let’s have you on the ladder itself. About halfway up, looking down as if you’ve spotted someone who needs rescuing.”
With practiced ease, Ryan scaled the ladder, positioning himself as directed. The afternoon sun glinted off his helmet and cast the shadow of the ladder across his torso in a pattern that added drama to the image.
“Perfect,” Natalie called, shooting upward. “Now give me serious—you’re assessing a dangerous situation.”
Ryan’s expression transformed instantly from playful to focused, showcasing the duality that made him effective both as Station 67’s morale officer and as a serious firefighter. For all his antics, Ryan Walker was exceptional at his job—something that occasionally got lost beneath his flirtatious exterior.
“Now turn sideways on the ladder—hand gripping the rung above you—yes, like that.”
Ryan moved with surprising grace, each position highlighting different aspects of his athletic build. The midday sun gleamed off the light sheen of sweat on his shoulders, creating a golden glow that complemented the red of the truck.
“Can I suggest something?” Ryan called down.
Natalie lowered her camera. “What did you have in mind?”
“What if I’m coming down the ladder carrying something? More dynamic, right? Shows action.”
Natalie considered this. “That could work. What did you have in mind?”
“Rescue dummy?” Chief Parker suggested from the sidelines. “Keep it professional.”
“Rescue dummy it is,” Natalie agreed.
The training mannequin was retrieved from inside the station, and Ryan hoisted it over his shoulder in a firefighter’s carry before remounting the ladder. The added weight didn’t seem to faze him as he posed halfway down, the dummy secure in his grip, his free arm gripping the ladder. The position caused every muscle in his back and arms to flex prominently—exactly the effect he’d intended.
“Now that’s a calendar shot,” Natalie said appreciatively, her camera working overtime. “July is delivering.”
From his position safely back on the ground, Marcus rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “Subtle, Walker. Very subtle.”
“Nothing subtle about saving lives, Davis,” Ryan called back, adjusting the dummy for a better angle.
As the shoot continued, a small crowd of spectators gathered across the street, most pretending to be casually passing by while stealing not-so-subtle glances at the spectacle. Several young women had given up all pretense and were openly watching, phones occasionally raised to snap their own photos.
“We’ve got company,” Ethan murmured to Chief Parker.
“Free publicity,” the Chief replied with a shrug. “As long as they stay across the street.”
Natalie directed Ryan through several more poses with the ladder truck—leaning against the front, operating the controls, and finally, the classic firefighter stance: helmet in one hand, other thumb hooked in his suspenders, expression serious but with just a hint of that signature Ryan Walker charm.
“I think we’ve got it,” Natalie declared finally. “July is officially captured.”
Ryan hopped down from the truck, examining the images on Natalie’s camera screen with enthusiasm. “Oh man, these are great. The ladder shadow across the abs? Genius.”
“Don’t hurt yourself patting your own back, Walker,” Marcus said, but he still stepped over to look at the photos.
Ethan checked his watch. According to the schedule, his shoot at the lighthouse wasn’t until late afternoon—timed to catch the golden hour light that Natalie had insisted would be perfect for December’s moody atmosphere. That gave him a few hours to mentally prepare for his turn in front of the camera.
“I’m going to grab lunch,” he announced. “Meet at the lighthouse at four?”
Natalie nodded, busy packing her equipment. “Perfect. The light should be ideal then.”
As Ethan turned to leave, Ryan caught up with him. “Hey, Captain. First timer advice—eat light. Nothing worse than trying to suck in a burrito belly for two hours.”
“Noted,” Ethan replied dryly, though he did reconsider his lunch plans.
Harbor Point Lighthouse stood sentinel at the edge of the cove, its weathered red and white tower catching the late afternoon sun. The structure had guided ships safely to harbor for over a century, surviving countless storms and changes to the town below. Ethan had always found peace here, away from the demands of the station and the weight of memories that still haunted his empty home.
Today, however, the lighthouse felt different—invaded by equipment cases, reflectors, and Natalie’s assistant arranging and rearranging items for the perfect shot.
Ethan stood at the base of the tower in his uniform pants and captain’s white shirt, unbuttoned but still on. Natalie had agreed to a compromise—he wouldn’t have to go fully shirtless like the others, a concession to both his rank and his discomfort.
“The light is perfect,” Natalie said, surveying the scene. The golden hour cast a warm glow over everything, softening the lighthouse’s weathered edges and illuminating Ethan’s features with an almost ethereal quality. “Let’s start with you looking up at the tower. Captain surveying his domain.”
Ethan moved into position, trying to appear natural despite his awareness of the camera. Unlike Marcus’s stoicism or Ryan’s showmanship, Ethan felt fundamentally out of place as the subject of attention.
“Relax your shoulders,” Natalie directed gently. “Imagine you’re just checking the lighthouse like you normally would.”
Ethan tried to comply, focusing on the familiar contours of the structure rather than the camera. This place had been his refuge for three years—the one spot in Ember Cove where he felt closest to his late wife. They’d visited the lighthouse on their first date, and later, during her illness, he’d bring her here on good days to watch the sunset.
“That’s better,” Natalie encouraged, circling to capture different angles. “Now unbutton the shirt a bit more. We want to suggest rather than show outright.”
With reluctant fingers, Ethan undid another button, revealing more of his chest. Though he maintained the same fitness regimen as his men, being observed like this made him uncomfortably self-conscious.
“Perfect,” Natalie murmured, the camera clicking rhythmically. “December needs to be different from the others—more contemplative, more mysterious. You’re nailing the mood.”
From the sidelines, Ryan and Marcus watched with expressions that mixed support and amusement. They’d both insisted on staying for Ethan’s shoot—”team solidarity,” they claimed, though Ethan suspected they were equally motivated by the rare opportunity to see their usually composed captain uncomfortable.
“Looking good, Captain!” Ryan called encouragingly. “Very calendar-worthy!”
Ethan shot him a look that promised future retribution, possibly in the form of extra equipment cleaning duties.
“Ignore them,” Natalie advised, repositioning herself. “Let’s try you leaning against the lighthouse wall, looking out toward the water. Think about protection, about watching over Ember Cove.”
The direction helped. Ethan could do that—focus on his responsibility to the town rather than the awkwardness of posing. He shifted position, one shoulder against the weathered red paint of the lighthouse, gaze directed toward the harbor where fishing boats were returning after a day at sea.
“Now that’s it,” Natalie said softly, camera working steadily. “The protector of Ember Cove. The steadfast captain.”
The shoot continued as the sun sank lower, casting increasingly dramatic shadows across the scene. Natalie had him climb partway up the exterior staircase, stand in the lighthouse doorway, and finally, as the golden hour reached its peak, position himself at the tower’s small balcony, wind ruffling his dark hair as he gazed out over the water.
“Unbutton completely,” Natalie directed. “Let the shirt blow open naturally in the wind.”
Ethan hesitated, then complied, unfastening the remaining buttons. The breeze immediately caught the white fabric, billowing it open to reveal his torso—not as flamboyantly defined as Ryan’s or as massively powerful as Marcus’s, but lean and strong from years of service.
“Captain’s got abs!” Ryan stage-whispered to Marcus. “Who knew they were hiding under all that seriousness?”
“Shut it, Walker,” Ethan called back without breaking his pose.
Natalie worked rapidly now, capturing the interplay of golden light, white shirt, and the red lighthouse against the darkening blue of the late afternoon sky. “These are going to be incredible,” she said, genuine excitement in her voice. “December is going to be the standout month.”
Despite his discomfort, Ethan felt a small surge of pride. If he had to do this, at least he was doing it well.
That’s when they heard it—the distinctive crack of fiberglass against wood, followed by shouts of alarm from the harbor below.
All three firefighters instinctively turned toward the sound. From their elevated position, they could see two boats collided near the harbor entrance—a small recreational craft had apparently attempted to overtake a returning fishing vessel in the narrow channel and miscalculated badly.
“Someone’s in the water!” Marcus called, his keen eyes spotting what the others hadn’t yet seen—a figure splashing frantically beside the smaller boat, which was already taking on water from a gash in its hull.
Without hesitation, all three men moved. Ethan’s shirt forgotten, billowing open as he raced down the lighthouse stairs. Ryan and Marcus were already pulling off their shoes, preparing to enter the water if necessary.
“Call it in,” Ethan ordered as they ran toward the harbor, falling automatically into emergency response mode.
Marcus grabbed his phone, reporting the collision to dispatch while Ryan sprinted ahead, his longer legs covering ground faster than the others. By the time Ethan and Marcus reached the dock, Ryan was already diving cleanly into the water, powerful strokes carrying him toward the figure still struggling about fifty yards from shore.
The fishing vessel had cut its engines and crew members were tossing life preservers toward the recreational boat, which now listed heavily to one side. A second person clung to the tilting deck, shouting for help.
Ethan grabbed a rescue ring from the emergency station at the dock’s edge and quickly followed Ryan into the water. The cold hit him like a physical blow, but years of training kept him moving with strong, efficient strokes. Behind him, Marcus was securing a rescue line, preparing to assist from the dock.
Ryan reached the struggling swimmer first—a teenage boy, panicking and barely staying afloat. “I’ve got you,” he reassured, his usual joking manner replaced by calm professionalism as he secured an arm around the boy’s chest and began swimming toward shore.
Ethan reached the listing boat, where a middle-aged man gripped the railing, knuckles white with fear as the craft continued to take on water. “Jump!” Ethan called, holding up the rescue ring. “I’ll get you to shore!”
“My son—” the man gasped.
“My colleague has him,” Ethan assured him, gesturing toward Ryan who was already halfway back to the dock with the teenager. “But this boat is going down. You need to jump now!”
Convinced, the man pushed off from the sinking vessel, hitting the water with an ungraceful splash. Ethan quickly moved the rescue ring into position, and the man grabbed it with desperate hands.
“Just hold on,” Ethan instructed. “I’ll tow you in.”
By the time they reached the dock, a small crowd had gathered, including Natalie who—to her credit—was documenting the rescue with the same professional focus she’d brought to the photoshoot. The rapid clicks of her camera barely registered as Marcus helped pull the man from the water.
Ryan had already delivered the teenager safely to shore, where harbor staff had wrapped the shivering boy in emergency blankets. Both father and son appeared shaken but uninjured—a fortunate outcome for what could have been a tragedy.
As the adrenaline began to fade, Ethan became aware of his soaked uniform pants clinging to his legs and his white captain’s shirt now transparently plastered to his torso. Water dripped from his hair, running in rivulets down his chest and back. Beside him, Ryan looked like some kind of water deity, emerging from the harbor with purpose in his stride and determination in his eyes.
“Everybody okay?” Chief Parker’s voice cut through the chaos as he pushed through the gathering crowd, having responded to the emergency call.
“Cold and wet, but no injuries,” Ethan reported, accepting a blanket from a harbor staff member.
“Just another day at the office,” Ryan added, running a hand through his dripping hair. The movement caused water to cascade down his shoulders, catching the golden light in a way that made several onlookers audibly gasp.
Natalie stood a few yards away, reviewing images on her camera with an expression of pure professional satisfaction. “I got it,” she said, looking up at them with bright eyes. “All of it. The dive, the rescue, the return.” She turned the camera to show them a series of shots that captured the entire sequence—three firefighters transforming instantly from calendar models to real-life heroes.
“Now that,” she said with certainty, “is what this calendar is really about.”
As emergency services arrived to deal with the sinking boat and take statements from those involved, the three firefighters stood side by side on the dock, dripping wet and surprisingly content despite the interrupted photoshoot.
“So,” Ryan said, grinning at Ethan. “Does this mean you’re off the hook for the rest of your December poses?”
Ethan glanced at Natalie, who was still reviewing her shots with undisguised excitement.
“Something tells me she got what she needed,” he replied, feeling strangely at peace. The rescue had washed away his self-consciousness, reminding him of what really mattered—not how he looked in a calendar, but what he and his men did every day for Ember Cove.
“I think we all did,” Marcus said quietly, a rare moment of sentiment from the stoic veteran.
As the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, casting deep orange and purple across the sky, Natalie approached them, camera in hand. “I hate to be insensitive after what just happened, but… would you mind if I get one more shot? All three of you, just as you are?”
The men exchanged glances, a wordless communication born of years working side by side.
“For the calendar?” Ethan asked.
Natalie shook her head. “For the cover.”
Without further discussion, they moved together—Ethan in the center, flanked by Marcus and Ryan—three men bonded by service, standing before the lighthouse as daylight faded behind them. No poses, no oil, no artifice. Just firefighters, momentarily wearing the evidence of their calling on their wet clothes and weary faces.
The camera clicked one last time, capturing something no amount of planning could have created—the true spirit of Station 67 and the real men behind the calendar months.
PART 4: CALENDAR REVEAL EVENT
The Rusty Hose was barely recognizable. The usually dim, cozy firefighter bar had been transformed with strings of white lights crisscrossing the ceiling, enlarged calendar photos displayed on easels around the perimeter, and a makeshift stage where a podium stood ready for the evening’s presentations. Behind the bar, Tommy Russo—retired firefighter turned bar owner—polished glasses with the same intensity he once brought to equipment checks, his wooden prosthetic leg tapping rhythmically against the floorboards.
“Place looks downright respectable,” Chief Parker commented, surveying the packed room with satisfaction. The entire Station 67 crew had arrived early, all sporting matching navy blue button-downs with the station’s emblem embroidered on the breast pocket. They looked more like a professional sports team than off-duty firefighters.
“Don’t get used to it,” Tommy replied, setting down a gleaming glass. “Tomorrow it’s back to dartboards and peanut shells. This fancy stuff is bad for my reputation.”
Ethan stood slightly apart from the crowd, watching the steady stream of community members filing through the door. The calendar reveal had become something of an unofficial town event over the years, but tonight’s turnout surpassed all previous occasions. News of the dramatic harbor rescue had spread through Ember Cove like wildfire, transforming what might have been an ordinary fundraiser into something approaching a celebration of local heroes.
“We’re going to need more chairs,” Marcus observed, appearing at Ethan’s side with his typical economy of movement.
“And more calendars,” Ryan added, joining them. He’d styled his hair differently tonight, and the extra effort hadn’t gone unnoticed by the group of women who kept finding reasons to pass by where he stood. “Natalie says pre-orders are already double last year’s total.”
Ethan nodded, surprised but pleased. The department desperately needed that backup generator, and at this rate, they might even be able to upgrade some of their aging equipment as well. Maybe the calendar embarrassment had been worth it after all.
“Speaking of Natalie,” Marcus said, gesturing toward the door where the photographer had just entered, arms laden with boxes. “Looks like the final products have arrived.”
The three men moved to help, relieving Natalie of her burden. “Hot off the press,” she announced proudly. “They look amazing—if I do say so myself.”
“No false modesty here,” Ryan teased, peeking into one of the boxes.
“Not when I’ve created a masterpiece,” Natalie replied with a confident smile. “Just wait until you see the cover.”
They carried the boxes to a table near the makeshift stage, where Dylan and Logan were setting up a display. The crowd’s energy was palpable—excited conversations, laughter, and the steady buzz of anticipation filling the room as more people arrived.
“Is that Dr. Bennett?” Ryan asked suddenly, nodding toward the door.
Ethan followed his gaze to where a striking woman in a simple black dress had just entered. Dr. Mia Bennett, the hospital’s newest ER physician, scanned the room with an air of professional composure that didn’t quite hide her discomfort at finding herself in what was essentially a firefighter hangout.
“Hospital must have sent a representative,” Marcus commented.
“Smart woman,” Ryan observed. “Statistically, firefighters are some of her most reliable future customers.”
Ethan gave him a withering look. “We’re not that accident-prone.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ryan replied cheerfully. “I’m still paying off the jet ski incident from last summer.”
Dr. Bennett made her way to the bar, exchanging a few words with Tommy before accepting a glass of white wine. Though she smiled politely at those who greeted her, she maintained a certain professional distance—a woman navigating a social obligation rather than enjoying a night out.
Ethan found himself watching her longer than necessary, something about her composed demeanor intriguing him. She carried herself with confidence but seemed slightly guarded, as though building invisible walls between herself and the crowd. He recognized the behavior because he’d perfected it himself over the past three years.
The door swung open again, admitting a boisterous group of women wearing police academy t-shirts. They entered like a force of nature, laughing and talking over each other as they claimed a table near the front. Among them was a striking young woman with dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, her posture distinctly more military than her companions.
“Sofia Martinez,” Marcus said, surprising Ethan with his knowledge of someone outside the department.
“You know her?”
Marcus shrugged. “Met her when I guest-lectured at the academy last month. Vehicle extraction techniques.”
“She’s going to be trouble,” Ryan predicted, watching as Sofia firmly redirected her friends when they tried steering her toward the display of firefighter photos. “Too smart for her own good.”
“Or yours,” Marcus replied dryly.
“Not my type,” Ryan assured him. “Too serious. Like a female version of Davis here.”
Marcus didn’t respond, but Ethan noticed his eyes lingering on the police recruit longer than strictly necessary. Interesting.
Another arrival caught Ethan’s attention—a petite woman with warm auburn hair and a friendly smile, accompanied by Natalie’s assistant from the photoshoot. She wore a simple floral dress and carried herself with a natural grace as she waved to familiar faces in the crowd.
“That’s Lily Owen,” Ryan said, his usual joking tone softening slightly. “The kindergarten teacher from Shoreline Elementary. She’s here supporting the fundraiser because ten percent goes to their school safety program.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You’re well-informed.”
Ryan suddenly became very interested in straightening his already-perfect collar. “She brings her class to the station every year for fire safety education. Nice lady. Great with kids.”
Before Ethan could probe further into Ryan’s uncharacteristic shyness, Chief Parker approached, clapping his hands to get their attention.
“Showtime in five minutes, gentlemen. Calendar models front and center when I call you up.”
Natalie bustled past with the first opened box of calendars. “These will be available for purchase after the presentation. Volunteers are setting up sales tables now.”
The energy in the room shifted as Tommy dimmed the regular lights, leaving only the white string lights illuminating the space. Chief Parker moved to the podium, tapping the microphone twice as conversations gradually quieted.
“Welcome, everyone, to the official unveiling of the Station 67 Firefighter Calendar, twenty-fifth annual edition,” he began, his normally gruff voice softened for the occasion. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Chief Robert Parker, and these troublemakers behind me are the finest firefighters in the county, though I’ll deny saying that if you quote me to their faces.”
Appreciative laughter rippled through the crowd.
“This calendar tradition started a quarter-century ago when our equipment budget was cut and we needed to get creative. Little did we know it would become an Ember Cove institution.” He paused, scanning the faces before him. “But this isn’t just about fundraising—though heaven knows we need a new generator before the next winter storm hits.”
The Chief’s expression grew more serious. “This calendar represents the commitment these men make every day to our community. They stand ready twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, to protect your homes, your businesses, your families. They miss holidays, birthdays, anniversaries. They run toward danger when instinct tells everyone else to run away.”
The room had gone completely silent, all eyes fixed on Parker.
“This year’s calendar captures something special—something we didn’t plan. As many of you have heard, during our photoshoot at Harbor Point Lighthouse, a boat collision occurred in the harbor. Without hesitation, our calendar models became what they truly are—first responders.”
He gestured to Natalie, who unveiled the largest display board, revealing the calendar’s cover for the first time.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd.
The image showed Ethan, Marcus, and Ryan standing side by side on the dock, soaking wet from the rescue—Ethan in the center, his white captain’s shirt clinging transparently to his torso, hair dripping; Marcus to his left, powerful and steady; Ryan to his right, looking for once completely serious. Behind them, the lighthouse stood against a sunset sky, while in the foreground, barely visible, were the rescued father and son wrapped in emergency blankets. The title “Firefighters of Ember Cove” arched above in bold red lettering, with “Station 67” and the year below.
There was nothing posed or artificial about the image—just three men who had done their job without thought for cameras or appearance. The raw authenticity was more powerful than any staged photo could have been.
Spontaneous applause broke out, growing louder as Natalie unveiled the individual month shots around the room. Each firefighter was featured in a different setting—some playful, some serious, all showcasing both the men and the town they served.
From her position near the bar, Dr. Bennett studied the photographs with clinical interest that gradually transformed into something warmer as her gaze lingered on the December image—Ethan at the lighthouse, shirt billowing open in the wind, expression contemplative as he gazed out over the water. Ethan noticed her attention and quickly looked away, inexplicably self-conscious.
Across the room, Sofia Martinez folded her arms as her academy friends teased her, pointing repeatedly at the August spread featuring Marcus with rescue equipment at the harbor. Though she rolled her eyes at their antics, Ethan caught her stealing glances at both the photo and the real-life version standing stoically beside him.
Near the front, Lily Owen smiled appreciatively at each image, her expression one of genuine admiration rather than the giggles and whispers coming from many other attendees. When she reached July—Ryan atop the ladder truck, rescue dummy over his shoulder—her smile widened, and she turned to her companion to comment. Ryan, usually the most talkative of the crew, had gone uncharacteristically quiet as he pretended not to notice her reaction.
“And now,” Chief Parker continued, reclaiming everyone’s attention, “I’d like to thank the woman who captured not just images, but the spirit of Station 67. Natalie Moretti, would you please join me?”
Natalie stepped onto the small stage, beaming with well-deserved pride. “Thank you all for coming tonight. This project was supposed to be just another assignment for my portfolio, but it became so much more.” She looked toward the firefighters with genuine appreciation. “These men showed me what it really means to serve a community—not just by posing for photos, but by living their commitment every day.”
She gestured to the displays around the room. “Each month tells a story. Marcus Davis, our August, represents the steadfast protection Ember Cove can count on at the harbor. Ryan Walker, our July, embodies the energy and determination that powers every rescue. And Captain Ethan Cole, our December, shows the thoughtful leadership that guides Station 67 through both routine calls and the most dangerous situations.”
More applause followed as Natalie explained the calendar’s special features—QR codes linking to fire safety tips, emergency preparation checklists, and a special section on the department’s history in Ember Cove.
“Without further ado,” she concluded, “calendars are now available for purchase at the tables by the entrance. All proceeds go directly to Station 67’s equipment fund, with ten percent supporting Shoreline Elementary’s fire safety program.”
The crowd surged toward the sales tables, forming lines that stretched to the door. Watching the enthusiasm, Ethan felt a surprising swell of pride. What had begun as an embarrassing obligation had transformed into something meaningful for both the department and the community.
“Looks like we’re going to need a second printing,” Chief Parker noted with satisfaction. “We might actually afford that generator and the new rescue equipment.”
As the evening progressed, the firefighters circulated through the crowd, signing calendars and accepting congratulations with varying degrees of comfort. Marcus moved with stoic efficiency, his expression never changing despite the admiring comments from calendar purchasers. Ryan charmed everyone in his orbit, his natural charisma turning simple autographs into memorable interactions. Ethan found a middle ground, professional but approachable as he thanked people for supporting the department.
“Quite the success,” a calm, measured voice observed as Ethan took a momentary breather near the bar.
He turned to find Dr. Bennett standing beside him, calendar tucked under her arm, wine glass nearly empty.
“Dr. Bennett,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Thank you for coming. The hospital’s support means a lot.”
“Mia, please,” she corrected. “And I’m not just here as a hospital representative. Emergency services are close to my heart—professionally and personally.” Something in her tone suggested a story behind those words, but she didn’t elaborate.
“Ethan,” he offered in return. “And yes, it’s going better than expected.”
She studied him with perceptive eyes that seemed to see more than he was comfortable revealing. “December is particularly striking,” she noted. “The lighthouse seems to have special significance for you.”
Ethan hesitated, surprised by her observation. “It’s a place I go to think,” he admitted, unsure why he was sharing even that much with a virtual stranger.
She nodded, accepting his sparse explanation without pressing for more—a courtesy he appreciated. “Well, Captain Cole, your department should be proud. Not just of the calendar, but of what it represents.” She set down her empty glass. “I should be going. Early shift tomorrow.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Drive safely, Dr.—Mia.”
She smiled briefly before turning away, leaving Ethan with the curious feeling that their paths would cross again under different circumstances.
Across the room, Sofia Martinez had finally been cornered by her friends into approaching Marcus for an autograph. Her expression as she handed him her calendar was one of professional respect mixed with barely concealed interest.
“Page 32,” she said, her voice carrying just far enough for Ethan to overhear. “Your technique for vehicle stabilization during extraction. I implemented it during academy training last week.”
Marcus looked genuinely surprised—not by the request for an autograph, but by her reference to his emergency response methods rather than his calendar appearance. “Not many recruits pay attention to those details,” he replied, signing the page with uncharacteristic care.
“I’m not most recruits,” she stated simply, maintaining eye contact a beat longer than necessary before rejoining her friends.
Near the calendar display, Ryan was demonstrating proper fire extinguisher technique to a small cluster of admirers when Lily Owen approached, calendar and pen in hand.
“Mr. Walker,” she said with a warm smile. “My kindergartners are going to be very excited when they see their favorite firefighter got July. They voted you ‘most fun’ after your demonstration last month.”
Ryan’s usual swagger softened noticeably. “Ms. Owen, great to see you. And it’s just Ryan, please.” He signed her calendar with a flourish. “Your class asked the best questions I’ve had all year. Smart kids.”
“Smart teacher,” she corrected with gentle confidence that seemed to leave Ryan momentarily speechless—a rare occurrence indeed.
As the evening wound down, Tommy began turning up the regular lights, signaling that the official event was concluding. The sales table reported they’d sold every available calendar and taken orders for twice as many more. Chief Parker looked like he might actually smile—a rare enough occurrence that several firefighters documented it with surreptitious phone photos.
“I’d call that a success,” Marcus said, joining Ethan near the exit as attendees began to depart.
“Understatement,” Ryan added, appearing with three bottles of beer which he distributed among them. “To the most profitable calendar in Station 67 history,” he proposed, raising his bottle.
They clinked bottles, a moment of camaraderie that felt earned after weeks of preparation and the unexpected drama of the photoshoot rescue.
“You know,” Ethan said thoughtfully, “I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this whole calendar business at first.”
“We noticed,” Marcus deadpanned.
“But I’m glad we did it,” Ethan continued, ignoring the interruption. “Not just for the funds, but for… this.” He gestured around the room, where community members continued to mingle with firefighters, examining photos, and sharing stories. “Reminds me why we do the job.”
Ryan’s expression turned uncharacteristically reflective. “It’s not just about looking good in uniform—though obviously I excel at that part.”
The expected joke broke the moment of seriousness, prompting eye rolls from his colleagues.
“There he is,” Marcus muttered. “I was worried we’d lost you to depth for a moment.”
As the three men watched their community celebrating around them, each caught a final glimpse of a woman who would, unknown to them, soon become central to their lives—Mia offering a last professional nod as she slipped out the door, Sofia glancing back with curious eyes as her friends pulled her toward the exit, Lily lingering by the July display with a thoughtful smile.
The future waited just beyond tonight’s celebration, but for now, Station 67 had accomplished something important—not just raising funds, but strengthening the bonds that made them more than just colleagues.
PART 5: AFTERMATH
By mid-November, the Station 67 calendars had become ubiquitous throughout Ember Cove. They hung in shop windows along Harbor Street, adorned break room walls in nearly every business, and held places of honor in homes throughout the coastal town. The second printing had sold out as quickly as the first, and there were rumors of a possible third run before Christmas.
At Ember Cove General Hospital, the delivery arrived on a particularly hectic Tuesday morning. The box sat untouched at the nurses’ station for several hours until the lunch rush, when curious hands finally lifted the lid.
“They’re here!” Nurse Jackie Tran announced, holding up a shrink-wrapped calendar triumphantly. The staff gathered around, excitement momentarily displacing the usual hospital fatigue.
“I already ordered mine at the event,” a respiratory therapist commented, “but the ER definitely needs one for the break room.”
“Or five,” another nurse suggested with a grin. “Different months for different walls.”
Dr. Mia Bennett paused at the edge of the group, clipboard in hand, maintaining her professional demeanor despite her curiosity. She’d attended the reveal event as the hospital’s representative, but in the two weeks since, found herself thinking of the calendar—and a certain fire captain—more often than she cared to admit.
“Dr. Bennett!” Jackie called, spotting her. “We saved one for you. Administrative courtesy.” She held out a calendar with a knowing smile that suggested the courtesy had more to do with Mia’s single status than her position.
“Thank you,” Mia replied evenly, accepting the calendar with what she hoped was an appropriately casual nod. “I’ll put it in my office.”
Later, door closed against the hospital’s constant bustle, Mia finally allowed herself to open the calendar. She flipped through methodically, appreciating Natalie Moretti’s skilled photography. Each month told a story—there was clear artistry in how the images captured not just physically impressive men, but the character and commitment behind the uniforms.
Her fingers slowed as December approached. She hesitated before turning to the final month, suddenly feeling like a teenager with a crush rather than a thirty-two-year-old medical professional.
Captain Ethan Cole stood against the lighthouse, his white shirt billowing open in the wind, his expression one of guarded watchfulness as he gazed out over an unseen horizon. The photograph captured something Mia recognized—the look of someone who carried invisible weights, who stood at a distance from the world while still dedicated to protecting it.
“Interesting,” she murmured to herself, studying the image more carefully than she had the others. There was something in his eyes that spoke of loss—a familiar shadow she understood too well after her divorce and the subsequent unraveling of what she’d thought was her perfectly planned life.
Mia closed the calendar and placed it in her desk drawer rather than displaying it. Whatever unprofessional curiosity she felt about Captain Cole would remain private—compartmentalized like everything else in her carefully ordered existence.
At the Ember Cove Police Academy, the calendars arrived during tactical training, but word spread quickly through the female cadets’ locker room after the session ended.
“Martinez! Your boyfriend made August look good!” cadet Ramirez called across the room, waving the calendar like a trophy.
Sofia Martinez, fresh from the shower and midway through buttoning her uniform shirt, shot her fellow cadet a withering look. “He’s not my boyfriend. I’ve spoken to the man exactly once.”
“For now,” another cadet teased. “I saw you at the reveal event. You made a beeline for his autograph.”
“I asked him about vehicle extraction techniques,” Sofia corrected, finger-combing her damp hair into a neat ponytail. “Professional interest.”
“Sure, if by ‘vehicle’ you mean his abs, and by ‘extraction’ you mean—”
“Enough,” Sofia cut her off, but her friends were already surrounding her, August page open and prominently displayed.
The image showed Marcus Davis at the harbor at sunrise, rescue rope draped across powerful shoulders, expression serious as he gazed toward the water. There was nothing flirtatious or playful in his pose—just the quiet strength and readiness that had caught Sofia’s attention at the academy lecture last month.
“You have to admit, the man knows what he’s doing,” Ramirez said, more seriously now. “Best technical instructor we’ve had all year.”
Sofia allowed herself a longer look at the photograph. “He’s competent,” she acknowledged, the word entirely inadequate for the respect she felt. Growing up in a family of police officers, she’d learned to recognize the real thing—professionals who served without needing applause or attention. Marcus Davis was clearly in that category.
“‘Competent,’ she says,” Ramirez laughed. “Girl, I saw your face during his lecture. You were taking notes like he was giving out lottery numbers.”
Sofia snatched the calendar, flipping it closed with more force than necessary. “Some of us actually care about learning proper techniques.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” someone called from across the locker room, triggering a wave of laughter.
Sofia rolled her eyes, but as the others moved on to teasing someone else, she found herself reopening the calendar to August, studying the image with a professional eye that gradually softened into something more personal. There was intelligence in his eyes, dignity in his bearing—increasingly rare qualities in a world of performative heroics and social media posturing.
She tucked the calendar into her training bag, telling herself it was purely for reference. After all, she’d be applying to Station 67 for her required fire service rotation in six months. Purely professional interest. Nothing more.
At Shoreline Elementary, the calendar delivery caused a minor crisis in the main office.
“We can’t put this in the teachers’ lounge,” Principal Warner insisted, flipping through the pages with increasingly raised eyebrows. “Think of the parent complaints.”
“It’s for charity,” Administrative Assistant Gina pointed out. “And it’s not like they’re naked. The firefighters visit our school regularly for safety education.”
“Not looking like this, they don’t,” the principal muttered, lingering a moment too long on July before closing the calendar firmly.
In her classroom after the final bell, Lily Owen heard about the delivery from a fellow teacher who stopped by with exaggerated expressions of distress.
“Warner confiscated them all,” she reported dramatically. “Said they weren’t ‘appropriate for an educational environment.’ But I salvaged this one for you, since your class works with the fire department so often.” She handed over a calendar with a conspiratorial wink.
“For educational purposes, of course,” Lily replied with a smile, accepting the contraband calendar. “The children should recognize their safety instructors.”
“Especially Mr. July,” her colleague teased. “He made quite an impression during Fire Prevention Week. On the students and the staff.”
After her friend left, Lily found herself alone in her classroom, surrounded by kindergarten artwork and half-erased lessons on the whiteboard. She opened the calendar to July, where Firefighter Ryan Walker stood confidently on the ladder truck. The image captured his playful charm, but also a competence that many overlooked because of his easygoing manner.
Lily had seen that same duality during his visits to her classroom—the way he could have five-year-olds giggling one moment and seriously repeating safety rules the next. There was depth behind his smile that intrigued her, despite her rule about not dating until her son Aiden was older.
With a small pang of guilt, Lily slipped the calendar into her tote bag. She’d keep it in her home office, she decided. For reference when planning the next fire safety unit. Purely professional reasons.
The fact that July might remain open slightly longer than the other months was entirely coincidental.
By December, as holiday lights began appearing throughout Ember Cove, the calendar phenomenon had begun to fade from daily conversation, but its impact lingered. The fundraiser had exceeded all expectations, providing Station 67 with not only their much-needed generator but also updated rescue equipment and communication systems.
More importantly, perhaps, were the seeds planted throughout town—in a hospital office drawer, a police cadet’s training bag, and a kindergarten teacher’s home study. Small, private acknowledgments of connections not yet formed but somehow already taking root.
At Station 67, Chief Parker studied the department’s call statistics with satisfaction. Response times had improved, equipment failures had decreased, and morale was higher than it had been in years.
“Think we should make this an annual tradition?” he asked Ethan, who was reviewing training schedules at the common room table.
“The calendar? We’ve been doing it for twenty-five years,” Ethan pointed out.
“I mean the rescue during the photoshoot,” the Chief clarified with rare humor. “Seems to sell better than regular poses.”
Ethan smiled despite himself. “Let’s not plan emergencies for marketing purposes.”
“Fair enough,” Parker conceded. “But Natalie’s already asking about next year’s theme. Apparently this year’s success has her thinking bigger.”
“As long as it’s not ‘Firefighters in Motion’ or something equally ridiculous,” Ethan said. “Ryan’s already insufferable after being voted ‘Most Popular Month’ in that online poll.”
“Actually,” the Chief said, heading for the door, “I think she mentioned something about including Ember Cove’s other first responders. Police cadets, medical staff, coast guard…” He let the sentence trail off suggestively.
“Interesting,” Ethan replied neutrally, though something in his expression made the Chief smile knowingly.
As Parker left, Ethan found himself thinking about next year’s calendar with unexpected anticipation. The project that had begun as an obligation had somehow transformed into something meaningful—not just for the department’s budget, but for connections within the community they served.
In a coastal town like Ember Cove, change often arrived like the tide—gradual, inevitable, and transformative. For the firefighters of Station 67, that tide was already turning, bringing with it new possibilities none of them could yet imagine.
Next year’s calendar would tell a different story. But for now, as winter settled over the harbor and the lighthouse beam swept through increasingly stormy nights, the men of Station 67 continued as they always had—ready to respond whenever called, steadfast in their commitment to the community they served.
Unaware that their most important rescues—and their own salvations—still lay ahead.
What’s Next?
Thank you for spending time with the handsome heroes of Ember Cove! If this exclusive story leaves you craving more, dive deeper into the full Ember Cove series:
BURNING BOUNDARIES (Book #1) – When stubborn Fire Captain Ethan Cole is forced into mandatory therapy sessions with Dr. Mia Bennett, neither expects the flames that ignite between them. (Psst—remember that December lighthouse photo? This is where you discover what happens when Ethan and Mia end up at that same lighthouse during a storm…)
UNDER COMMAND (Book #2) – Veteran firefighter Marcus Davis lives by the rules until rookie Sofia Martinez challenges everything he thought he believed about duty and desire. (That August harbor photo of Marcus? It caught Sofia’s attention in ways she never expected…)
BRAVEST RESCUE (Book #3) – Ladies’ man Ryan Walker never expected to fall for sweet kindergarten teacher Lily Owen—or to become the father figure her young son desperately needs. (And yes, she definitely kept July open on her wall even though she’d never admit it!)