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The fire truck rolled to a stop on the quiet South Side street, and Lip was already halfway out of his seat before his captain could finish rattling off the address.
He knew that address.
"Gallagher, you good?" Martinez called from the driver's seat, catching the look on Lip's face.
"Yeah, fine. Let's go." Lip grabbed his gear, jaw tight, mind racing through a thousand worst-case scenarios. A fire. Carbon monoxide. Structural collapse. Sydney hurt, Sydney scared, Sydney—
"Call came in for a rescue," the captain said. "Person stuck in a tree. Possible injury."
Lip's panic shifted into confusion, then something dangerously close to amusement. "A tree?"
"That's what dispatch said."
They rounded the corner of the house, and sure enough, there she was. Sydney Adamu, approximately fifteen feet up in an old oak tree, one arm wrapped around a branch and the other reaching for a tiny gray kitten that was somehow even higher up and mewing pitifully.
"Sydney!" An older man—her father, Lip recognized him from the few times Sydney had mentioned him—stood at the base of the tree, hands on his hips. "Baby, please, the firefighters are here now. Just stay still."
"Dad, I almost have him!" Sydney called down, stretching further. The branch creaked ominously.
Lip's heart lurched into his throat.
"Sydney!" he shouted before he could stop himself.
Her head whipped around, and even from this distance, he could see her eyes widen. "Lip?"
"Don't move," he ordered, already assessing the situation, pulling on his gloves. Martinez was getting the ladder, but Lip was faster, testing the lower branches, hauling himself up with practiced ease. "I'm coming up."
"I don't need help!" Sydney protested, but there was a tremor in her voice now, like maybe she was just realizing how high up she actually was.
"Yeah, clearly." Lip climbed steadily, keeping his voice calm even though his pulse was hammering. "You look real comfortable up there."
"I had it under control."
"Uh-huh." He reached her level, positioning himself on a sturdier branch. Up close, he could see the flush in her cheeks, the way her fingers were white-knuckled around the bark. "Hi."
"Hi," she said quietly, and for a second, they just looked at each other.
God, she was pretty. Even stuck in a tree, reaching for a kitten like some kind of deranged Disney princess, she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.
"So," Lip said, reaching for her waist, "here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna put your arms around my neck, and I'm gonna get you down. Then I'll get the cat."
"I can get the cat—"
"Sydney." He caught her gaze, held it. "Please."
Something in his voice must have gotten through, because she nodded, looping her arms around his shoulders. Lip tried very hard not to think about how close she was, how she smelled like vanilla and something floral, how her breath hitched when he lifted her slightly to get better footing.
"I got you," he murmured. "I got you."
The descent was careful, methodical. Martinez had the ladder ready, and Lip transferred Sydney over with reluctance, watching like a hawk until her feet touched solid ground. Her father immediately wrapped her in a hug.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again," Emmanuel said, and Sydney mumbled an apology into his shoulder.
Lip climbed back up.
The kitten had wedged itself into a crook between two branches, tiny body trembling, green eyes wide with terror. Lip had dealt with scared animals before—usually dogs or cats trapped in burning buildings—but something about this little thing got to him.
Maybe because Sydney had risked her neck for it.
"Hey, little guy," he said softly, extending one gloved hand. "It's alright. You're okay."
From below, he could hear Martinez making some comment about the mighty firefighter versus one tiny cat, but Lip ignored him. He kept talking, low and gentle, inching closer until he could scoop the kitten up with both hands, tucking it against his chest.
It weighed almost nothing. All fluff and bones and too-loud purring.
When he reached the ground again, Sydney was right there, hands outstretched. Lip transferred the kitten carefully, watching as she cradled it close, checking for injuries with practiced fingers.
"Is he okay?" Emmanuel asked.
"I think so. A little dehydrated maybe." Sydney looked up at Lip, and there was something in her expression—gratitude and embarrassment and something else he couldn't quite name. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it." He wanted to say more, wanted to ask what the hell she was thinking climbing that high, wanted to lecture her about safety and risk and how his heart had damn near stopped when he'd heard the address. But Martinez was packing up, and her dad was there, and Sydney was looking at him with those dark eyes that made his brain short-circuit.
"I should..." He jerked his thumb toward the truck.
"Yeah. Of course."
He made it three steps before he heard her call his name.
"Lip, wait."
He turned, and suddenly she was right there, pressing her lips to his cheek—quick and soft and over before his brain could fully process what was happening.
"Thank you," she said again, softer this time, and then she was gone, disappearing back toward the house with the kitten still clutched to her chest.
Lip stood there, frozen, one hand drifting up to touch where her lips had been.
"Gallagher!" Martinez called. "Let's move!"
"Yeah," Lip said to no one in particular. He couldn't stop the stupid grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, I'm coming."
He climbed into the truck, buckled in, and stared out the window as they pulled away. His cheek still tingled. His heart was still racing—had been since he'd seen that address, since he'd seen her in that tree, since she'd put her arms around him like maybe she trusted him to keep her safe.
Down bad didn't even begin to cover it.
"So," Martinez said casually, "that's the chef, huh? The one you visit every other day?"
"Shut up."
"The one you're definitely not into?"
"Martinez, I swear to God—"
"Got it, got it. Not into her at all. That's why you're grinning like an idiot."
Lip flipped him off, but he couldn't stop smiling.
Worth it. All of it—the panic, the climb, the inevitable ribbing from the crew—completely worth it for one quick kiss on the cheek and the look in Sydney's eyes when he'd told her he had her.
His radio crackled with the next call, and Lip forced himself to focus.
But that didn't mean he wasn't already counting down the hours until he could find some excuse to stop by The Bear tomorrow.
He was, after all, absolutely down bad.