“Do you think I’m stupid? Working on Christmas means fire, police, or hospital. Only one of those you’d have kept secret. Is it the geeky one?”
“The geeky one?”
“You two geeked out at the North Star.” Abby tilted her head quizzically and evaluated his lack of response. “Oh, nice stamina; she’s like a decade younger than you.”
“It would be a gross abuse of my power to date a subordinate… no matter how much I wanted it.”
“Supposing you were flexible on that?”
“Theoretically, there was a conflict of interest between our relationship and the department.”
“What brought about this ‘theoretical’ situation?” Abby kept her face impassive.
“Her firehouse got closed, and I approved her transfer orders… without telling her. She found out on her own and called me a liar. I’d promised to champion women, turned around and closed the firehouse with the most women in it to save my paramedic program.”
“She broke up with you because you are a lying, heartless son of a bitch.” Abby didn’t mince her words.
“Also ruthless and manipulative.”
“Did you try to stop her? Did you tell her how you felt about her?
“It doesn’t matter how I feel.”
“What did she say when you asked her to marry you?”
“I didn’t,” Noah said as his heart lurched. She’d put into words those insane thoughts he’d been having about Erin.
“Said you loved her?”
“No.” He wouldn’t let himself consider that far too likely possibility.
“Be the mother of your children?”
“No.” That one he’d imagined several times.
“‘The future is a dark, empty void without you?’”
“I didn’t do anything,” Noah said, rather than admit she was right. He might have crushed Erin’s idealism, but he self-immolated at the same time. For the first time in his life, his job, his purpose, brought him no comfort. Before he had been able to convince himself that every sacrifice was worth it.
Not anymore.
“You didn’t read her a poem, sing to her, beg her, kiss her, anything? Instead, you justified your actions and basically told her her feelings weren’t important,” Abby guessed correctly.
“I definitely did the last one,” Noah admitted. He was haunted by the memory of the shattered look in Erin’s eyes.
“The Fire Chief broke up with his girlfriend because Noah was too scared. "
“Abby, stop that. There aren’t two people. There’s only me, and I have to make choices that no one likes. If she thought closing her firehouse was the worst thing, then she doesn’t understand what it took to get where I am today. This doesn’t even start on the conflict of interests of dating a subordinate. What if we share a scene where I order her into danger? What happens when she’s up for promotion?”
“Those are excuses. Your girlfriend broke up with you for being a callous asshole and you justify it through your job?” Abby asked. “You don’t feel the slightest bit sorry?”
He finally snapped. “No, I don’t. Not only am I a morally inflexible ass who couldn’t stop thinking with his dick, I’m not sorry about closing her firehouse. It was under-performing, and the money could be used elsewhere. My only regret is getting caught and her figuring out who I truly am.”
“You don’t mean that—”
“I do. I don’t care. I should have known better.” Noah signed off rather than let Abby pick at the hole in his soul. Every day he had to make choices like this—horrible, painful choices—and anyone dared say he needed to be sorry.
The anger and the ugliness were bubbling out of every pore. He let out a brutal yell and upended the papers off his desk. Reams of transfer orders, staffing reports, arson investigations, and schedules fell to the floor. He had the wild idea of feeding every page into his paper shredder.
