- 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 -
"It's knowing that this can't go on forever... likely one of us will have to spend some days alone."
In the three years since Hunter Callahan had joined firehouse 118, she had found a family that no matter how hard she tri...
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LET YOU DOWN. chapter fifteen.
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"ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN'T COME?"
"Kyle, I've missed so many fucking days of work already..." Hunter trailed off as she sat in the drivers seat of her squarebody truck outside the 118 station house. Her eyes ghosted over the now three sets of dog tags that hung there. Lane, Cody, and Harvey, a man from what seemed like forever ago who she had helped on a call.
She could her Kyle sigh through the phone, "Kevin'll be pissed if he finds out you skipped his ceremony for receiving the fucking Medal of Honor— come on, Hunter!"
"He won't be pissed," Hunter laughed at the boy who was practically whining, "and it's in Germany— I'm not flying all the way there. I love Kevin, but not that much."
Hunter was truly sorry that she would have to miss the event. It wasn't often a friend received the Medal of Honor. Kevin, a navy doctor, that the 8113 had know since early in 2011 was finally being recognized for his service. The Callahan woman just didn't feel comfortable taking another leave of absence so soon, it felt like she was abandoning the 118 on too short of notice.
Kyle was rolling his eyes, Hunter just knew it, "okay but when he doesn't come when you call, don't complain to me."
"Dobbs," Hunter sighed as she called out to her best friend, "you can't guilt trip me— just make sure to take some pictures for me, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah... asshole," Kyle muttered the last part under his breath but the blonde haired girl still heard him.
Hunter rolled her own blue eyes this time, "love you too, Dobbs."
"Mhmm, now I'm going to go have fun in Germany next week without you—"
"You do that," Hunter retorted in a fake sickly sweet voice, "bye bye."
The Callahan woman didn't wait for a response as she ended the call on her phone before opening the door of her truck. Pulling her tan backpack onto her left shoulder, the woman closed the door behind her— not even bothering to lock the old truck door.
