Silas: A Station 47 Novel, page 1
Silas
A Fire Station 47 Novel
Lauren Runow
Silas: A Station 47 Novel
Copyright © 2024 by Lauren Runow
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.LaurenRunow.com
Cover Designer: Melissa Gill Designs
Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended. No claims have been made over songs and/or lyrics written. All credit goes to original owners.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
About the Author
Station 47 Series
1
Silas
Tones echo throughout the station.
“Engine 47, Engine 45, Engine 42, Medic 47, Medic 42, multi-vehicle crash intersection of Main and Sossoman. Reports of entrapment. Caller says woman trapped inside is in labor. Time out 17:32.”
“Here we go,” Asher says, putting down his phone after, I’m sure, getting a text from Sienna, saying she made it home okay.
The guy is a little obsessive when it comes to how much he worries about her.
We all get up from where we were sitting and head toward our assigned jobs for the day.
“Silas, you’re on the engine for this call. Myles will take your place as medic,” Captain says.
Frustration rips through me, but I know I can’t fight it. He’s just trying to save me from another tailspin that I went on a few months ago when a, I guess you could say, similar situation went down.
“I’m on it,” Myles, or who we call Ghost Pepper, responds, then playfully sticks his tongue out at me.
He’s lucky he’s my best friend, or I’d sock him—hard.
We get our gear on and head out, lights and sirens, to the location of the accident. When we get there, it’s pure chaos. Some people are trying to help the woman while others watch on in horror.
“Get the Jaws,” I hear someone yell out.
I snap into gear and focus on the task at hand. When I get to the car, the woman screaming makes me stop in my tracks for a second until I block it out and get the apparatus in place.
Myles has crawled in the car through the back seat and is trying to calm the woman down while we work on getting her out.
“My baby! Ahh,” she screams, and my world goes black.
“Silas, out of here,” Atta screams, pushing me out of the way and taking over, bringing me back to reality.
I go help someone in the other car, checking to make sure they are okay. I see where else I am needed until I hear the ambulance speed off, and I look to see the car where the woman was trapped is now empty.
A whoosh of relief fills me, and then I get back to work on what else needs to be cleaned up for the night.
Those of us on the engine head back to the station while the guys on the ambulance don’t get back for a while.
I’m lying in bed when Myles comes in and leans down to whisper, “Mom and baby are fine.”
I pretend to be asleep and act like I haven’t been lying here all night, trying to fight back a panic attack, but internally, I’m super grateful he calmed my nerves with just those five little words.
Though nothing extremely tragic happened last night with that call, the guys all know it messed with me, so we plan to head to Ruby’s—a bar we always hang out at for some choir practice.
“What’s up, Joey?” I say as I enter Ruby’s.
“First one to arrive,” he says, grabbing a beer, opening it, and setting it in front of me before he reaches for a glass to pour me a shot of Patrón.
I’m here so often that I don’t even need to order my first round anymore—Joey just knows.
That’s why I come here. Not only because I think it’s the best place in town, but also because it’s owned by a fellow firefighter at my station named Cooper March—aka Marchy—and his two brothers, Axel and Joey.
I walk to my normal spot and hold the shot up to him. “Here’s to another fucked-up day. May the liquor gods wash my memory away.” I down it, then stand there, dropping my head to my chest and closing my eyes, letting the fire fill my belly and put out the pain trying to rise inside me.
“That bad?” he asks.
Joey is the youngest of the brothers and the one I get along with the most since we graduated high school together and go way back.
I meet his eyes, and he purses his lips, gives me a quick nod, and goes back to what he was doing before I arrived.
That’s the third reason why I come here. Since Cooper is a firefighter himself, he knows exactly what we go through; therefore, his brothers do to. Some days are a walk in the park, and some are literally a living hell, inferno and all. They know when we walk in here, we’re not looking to talk about what happen; we just want to erase it from our memories and move on with our lives.
A female voice comes over the microphone behind me. It’s earlier than usual for them to have live music, so I turn to see who’s playing.
“Hi, I’m Kara Parsons. This is my first time up here, so please be patient with me,” she says timidly as she adjusts the stool she’s sitting on.
The place only has about seven people total, so when a guy whistles, saying, “You got this, gorgeous,” I sit up a little straighter, making sure he doesn’t say anything else that might be deemed inappropriate.
She takes her time getting her guitar hooked up and adjusting the microphone, so I turn to Joey and ask, “How come she’s starting so early? There’s no one here yet.”
He shrugs. “She wanted to get some experience before doing a real show, so we said we’d help her out. She’s here of her own accord; we’re not paying her to play.”
That sounds about right for the March family.
Getting to play at any bar in this country music legend of a town is a big accomplishment, no matter how big or small the place is. People get discovered from joints like this. All you need is a chance to show your stuff, and the March family is never one to turn someone down.
She starts strumming her guitar, so I turn to give her a listen. Her voice is soft, not overbearing, and the way she has to reach over the guitar with her tiny frame makes me smile. It’s obvious she has some grit to her—being out here like this proves that. I’m definitely not the type of person to put myself out there like she is on a stage, all by herself. People like her impress me, so I always want to give them my full attention as my way of saying so.
The fact that she’s pretty good-looking, with her light-brown hair falling forward in ringlet curls helps too.
Hawk is the next to arrive, Hayes and Marchy quickly coming after him. There’s eight of us on shift together, and on days like this, we don’t even need to ask if we’re all going to choir practice; we just know that’s what absolutely has to go down.
I still don’t know why we call it choir practice. I was just told that’s what it’s called after my first horrible call on the job.
My fire captain wrapped his arm around my shoulders and said, “Let’s get you to choir practice.”
Let’s just say, I’ve been a faithful follower ever since.
Maybe they call it that because it’s the only way they can tie something as holy as singing in a church choir with something as sinful as drinking away our sorrows after a fucked-up call, like we had last night. If church served alcohol, then we’d go there, but since they don’t, we come here and pretend that we’re at church, praying for God to erase our memories.
“What’s up, fellas?” I say, turning my attention to them and away from the girl singing.
“What’s going on here?” Hawk points to the girl onstage, wondering why someone is playing early, just like I did.
“Joey said this is her first time singing at a place like this, so she wanted to go early—get the nerves out, I guess.”
“She’s cute,” Hawk says.
“Whoa! Did the lovestruck fool just acknowledge another female in his presence?” I tease.
Ever since he got together with Skye, I swear she is all he talks or thinks about. The fact that he’s here and not running straight to her shows how fucked up our night was—sometimes, you just need to be around those who tru
“You know I’ll be the one messing with you the most when some girl gets her teeth sunk in you, right?” he volleys back.
“Ha!” I laugh out loud. “Not going to happen.” I lean on the bar, motioning for Joey to get me another round. “I like my freedom too much.”
“Just like Mr. Hit It and Quit It over here?” He points at Asher Hayes, or who we call just by his last name.
Hayes and Brax are the oldest in our crew, both thirty-six years old. Both were also as single as the day is long, but that changed recently for Hayes.
I’ll admit, I looked up to Hayes with the way he was able to get the ladies day in and day out, even at his age. There wasn’t a time when I didn’t see him hooking up with someone different. Then, he met Sienna, and his outlook on women changed.
“His old ass needed to settle down. He’ll need someone taking care of him here real soon,” I joke, and he shoves me for doing so.
“Don’t think I still can’t whip your twenty-four-year-old ass.” Hayes raises his eyebrows at me.
“You wish.” I blow him off as I turn to face the musician onstage again since she’s singing a song I recognize.
Brax, Hollywood, and Ghost Pepper arrive and all head straight to the bar to meet us.
And, no, these aren’t any of our real names. In the firehouse, we all either go by our last names or a nickname that was given to us by the guys. Since my last name is Feddeler, they call me Fed. Not too original, but it’s my family name—something I’m very proud of—so I’ll take it.
None of us say anything as Marchy stands behind the bar, pouring us all a shot.
We all take one from him, hold it up in a silent prayer to those we lost, and down it in unison. One for all, all for one—our motto and lifeline to the job we chose.
2
Silas
An hour goes by, and the alcohol has finally set in, making me feel pretty good as the singer onstage finishes her set. A few more people have arrived during that time, and it was obvious they enjoyed the show. I even caught myself nodding my head to the songs she was playing.
I bring my fingers to my lips and whistle loudly to show my appreciation, which catches her attention, so I clap my hands over my head and love the way it makes her blush.
Yes, I’m being obnoxious, and, no, I don’t care. She did a great job, and she deserves more than the light claps everyone else is giving her.
I lean back and watch as she leaves the stage and walks to where Joey is at the end of the bar. Deciding that my clapping wasn’t enough, I head her way to tell her how much I liked her set.
“Great job tonight,” I say as I get close enough for her to hear me.
She laughs as she responds, “Thanks for clapping so much when I was done.”
I hold my arms out to my sides with a cocky grin. “What can I say? I like to show my appreciation when it’s well deserved.” I hold my hand out to her. “I’m Silas.”
She doesn’t reciprocate and looks at Joey first, like she’s asking for permission before introducing herself to me. He laughs more to himself, dropping his chin to his chest and shaking his head.
“What am I missing here?” I ask.
“I warned her about you guys,” Joey says.
“You warned her? What? Are we horrible human beings or something?” I ask, half joking, half not. “You do realize, your brother is one of us guys.”
“He didn’t mean it that way,” she says. “He just told me there was a good chance you guys would be here and that there were a few I should probably stay clear of.” She raises her eyebrows and rubs her lips together like she’s afraid to know if I’m one of them or not.
I smack his arm. “Wow, bro. Blocking before we even walk through the door. That’s a new one. And here I thought, you liked us.”
He pauses for a second, takes an inhale, then says, “Kara, this is Silas, or who we call Fed. He is not one of the guys I was warning you about.”
I smile proudly. “Now, that’s better.” I hold my hand out to her again. “It’s nice to meet you, Kara.”
She giggles at our antics as she shakes my hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“Fed and I actually go way back. We kind of grew up together, so I can vouch for him honestly.”
“Well, that’s the way you help a brother out. Now, why don’t you get this lovely lady a drink and put it on my tab?”
“Since when do you have a tab?” he asks like he’s in shock.
“Exactly. That’s why I said to put it on my tab,” I respond jokingly.
Kara speaks up. “It’s okay. I’ll just have a water.”
She pulls out the barstool and takes a seat, so I do the same as Joey fills a cup with water, places it in front of her, and moves on to help another customer.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Looks like you’re already making yourself at home,” she responds sarcastically.
“Spicy. I like it.” I position myself to face her and tilt my head to the side, taking her in. “Let me guess. You’re like that song; are you one of them girls who peels off the Bud Light label?”
She lets out a sharp laugh, obviously not expecting me to say something like that, but knowing exactly what song by Lee Brice I’m referencing. “No, I won’t run the pool table”—she holds up her finger to make her point—“but don’t you dare call me an angel.”
I smile, digging the start of our conversation so far. “Noted. So, tell me, Kara, how long have you been singing in bars like this?”
“That was my first time.”
“Then, I’m glad I could be part of your first audience. You did good up there. How long have you been singing?”
“Since I was a little girl. My daddy led the choir at our church, and he always said I was his little angel who could sing.”
I grin from ear to ear. “So, I can call you an angel?”
She drops her head with a laugh. “No. He can call me that. You can’t.”
“Is this your dream? To make it in the music industry?”
“That’s why people come to Nashville, right? Trying to get discovered.”
“Then you’re not from here?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m from a small town in Ohio called Willard.”
“Then, how long have you lived in Nashville?”
She stares at her water glass, spinning it in her hands. “About six months.”
I lean my head down, trying to get her attention. “Why the somber stare?”
She sighs. “Just wonder if I’m doing the right thing. It took me six months to get on that stage.”
“But you did indeed get on that stage, and you did great!”
She grins in my direction, but it’s still guarded. “I had to beg them to let me do it for free.”
“And look, they allowed it. The March family is awesome like that. They probably would have let you go on sooner. Did you not ask until now?”
“No, I didn’t. But you’re probably right. After I was turned down for what felt like the millionth time, someone suggested I come here.”
“Looks like they were right. How was it up there?” I nudge her playfully. “Everything you ever dreamed of?”
“I was worried I wasn’t doing too well since there wasn’t a big crowd in here, but having you cheer like that definitely lifted my spirits.”
I nudge her again, more in a flirty way this time. “Glad I could help. I wasn’t cheering just because I think you’re gorgeous. You did a really good job. I found myself listening a few times while hanging out with the guys.”
I love the way she blushes, but she’s quick to move the conversation off of her.
“Are those your friends?” She motions to where they are all sitting at the other end of the bar.
“That they are. We all work the same shift, so we’re more like family.”
“Same shift? What do you guys do?”
“We’re all firefighters downtown at Station 47.”
“Firefighters, huh? Do you guys come here often?”
Thoughts of what actually brought me here tonight flash in my mind, but I tuck them aside, not wanting to go back down that rabbit hole—and more importantly, not wanting to drag her down it with me.
