The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the fire station as Bode finished restocking the trucks. His muscles ached from the long shift, but he was used to the physical demands. As he closed the last compartment, he noticed someone watching him from across the yard. It was one of is new crew mates. They had been quickly introduced this morning, but Bode couldn't remember her name.

She was leaning against a beat-up old pickup, arms crossed, her braided blonde hair catching the glow of the streetlamp. Her tattoos peeked out from beneath her rolled-up sleeves, and her lean, athletic build was evident. She was striking—stunning, even—with piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through him.

Bode threw his gear duffel over his shoulder and began the walk toward the station gate. It was a mile and a half to his apartment, not too far, but the day had taken its toll. He was tired, both physically and mentally, but the thought of getting home to his nearly empty apartment didn't exactly fill him with excitement.

"Hey, Leone!" the voice cut through the quiet evening, stopping Bode in his tracks. He turned to see her push off the truck and head toward him. "You planning on walking all the way home?" she asked, her voice smooth but carrying a hint of concern.

Bode hesitated."Yeah, it's just a mile and a half. I can manage."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his nonchalance. "You don't have a car?"

"Just made parole," Bode admitted shyly. "Can't really afford one yet. It's all good. Walking helps me clear my head."

The stranger nodded, understanding more than she let on. "But after a shift like this? Let me give you a ride."

Bode hesitated for a moment, not wanting to impose, but the exhaustion weighing down his limbs made the decision easy. "You sure? I don't want to trouble you."

"Don't worry about it," she replied, waving off his concern. "I've been where you are, man."

"You have?" Bode asked raising his eyes to meet hers.

"I have. I was in a con camp myself. I joined this crew last year after I made parole. I was lucky enough to have worked a campaign fire with Camden when I was an inmate and he put in a good word for me with Harper."

They climbed into her truck, the seats worn and the dash cluttered with old CDs and scribbled-on notepads. As they pulled out of the station, Bode looked over, his eyes bashful. "I'm so sorry, I know we were introduced this morning, but I can't remember your name."

"It's Audrey," the corner of her mouth quirking up in a half-smile.

Bode chuckled softly and nodded. "Thanks, Audrey. I really appreciate this."

"So, where's home?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

"Just a little basement apartment over on Edwards. It's nothing fancy, but it's a roof over my head," Bode replied, glancing out the window as the beach town passed by.

Audrey nodded, her hands steady on the wheel. "I get it. When I first got out, I had nothing. It takes time to build yourself back up."

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that," Bode said, his voice tinged with resignation. "Right now, it's just me, a bed, and a couple of dishes. Haven't even had the chance to get any furniture."

Audrey glanced at him, her expression softening. "Damn, you weren't kidding when you said you've got nothing."

Bode chuckled dryly. "Nope, not kidding."

They drove in silence for a moment, the weight of shared experiences hanging between them. Finally, Bode spoke again, his voice thoughtful, as he gestured to the guitar tucked behind the bench seat of the truck. "You play?"

"I used to be in a band before everything went to hell. Music kept me sane when I was locked up. Still does, I guess. I mostly play small coffee shops and open mic's now, though."

Bode turned to her, surprised by the sudden revelation. "A band? That's so cool. I used to draw a lot when I was inside—sketching helped me keep my mind off... everything else."

Audrey smiled, a genuine warmth in her expression that was rare to see. "Art and music. Guess we're not as rough around the edges as people think, huh?"

Bode nodded, feeling a connection forming between them. "Yeah, maybe not."

As they approached his place, Audrey slowed the truck and pulled up to the curb. "Listen," she said, turning to face him, "if you need help getting your place set up, I know some people who could hook you up with some cheap furniture. I'm not saying you need to turn it into the Ritz, but it might help make it feel more like home."

Bode blinked, taken aback by the offer. "I... I don't know what to say. That's really generous of you."

Audrey waved a hand dismissively. "Don't sweat it. I've been there, remember? We gotta stick together, look out for each other."

Bode smiled, the first real smile he'd felt in a while. "Thanks, Audrey. I owe you one."

She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. "Yeah, you do. But don't worry, I'll think of a way for you to pay me back."

They both laughed, the tension between them easing as they found common ground. As Bode climbed out of the truck and waved goodbye, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he could build something new—a life, friendships, and maybe even a sense of belonging.