He was right.
I went on a three-month bender. Hookups, booze. Bad decisions. Let the crew down because I showed up late or hungover. Barely got my shit together before Dad passed.
“Maybe she deserved more than silence,” Beck says, quieter now.
“I know.”
But everything about Red felt dangerous. The way she listened, the way she laughed. The way she made me want more and then asked for it.
“Thought you liked her,” Evan says after a beat.
I rub my face, rough palms scraping over day-old stubble.
“I did.”
I do.
“She doesn’t even know my name,” I remind them. “Or what I look like. It was just voice messages. And I’m pretty sure she hates me now, so… that’s it.”
“That’s not it,” Beck says. “You don’t look like this overjustvoice messages.”
And he’s right, it wasn’t just the messages—it was her.
“Wanna know the worst part?” I murmur. “Swore I’d never let anyone get close again, and then she showed up outta nowhere. Just this… sexy voice. Snarky and bright and so fuckingreal. Made me feel like I wasn’t a fuckup.”
I exhale.
“So yeah, I ghosted her. Because if she met me, she’d figure it out. And I’d be broken all over again.”
There’s a long pause, and Beck’s eyes flick to Evan.
They were there, both of them. When I stopped sleeping, when I’d sit in Neverland until 3 a.m. just to feel like the world still had noise in it.
Beck used to show up and nurse a single drink for hours, just to keep me company. Evan dragged me out for breakfast more times than I can count. Colt would wordlessly hand me a protein shake after shift and walk away.
No one ever saidget over it, they just stayed.
“She knew more than most people do,” Beck finally says. “And she still wanted to meet you.”
Evan nods. “Might not be too late to fix it.”
I don’t answer, because I don’t know if that’s true. All I know is I’ve been punishing myself ever since. Taking on shifts no one else wants, covering for the guys with kids so they can be home for the holidays.
Mom's with her sister this year—first time she’s left Ontario since Dad died. Said she needed a change of scenery and invited me to come along. I told her I was working, and that was true. Mostly.
I stand and stretch, glancing at the day room clock. “You guys want anything from Flora’s?”
Evan grins. “You bribing us with a 5 a.m. pastry so we forget you’re an emotionally unavailable idiot?”
“Yup.”
He tosses me his order, and Beck mutters his under his breath.
By the time I make it back to the station, I’ve committed to working Christmas Eve. Swapped shifts with Colt, told Evan I’d pick up the overnight. And when Chief Rhodes told me I wasn’t allowed to work Boxing Day, the Canadian holiday following Christmas, I volunteered to run the station’s annual food drive down at the lake instead.
I crash for a few hours that afternoon, then head to Neverland after shift. The usual crowd’s in—local cops, a few paramedics, some of the crew from across town. I sit at the bar with a club soda and try not to think about her, but fail miserably.
She would’ve liked it here. Probably would’ve made a crack about the chalkboard menu being too hipster for a place with this much duct tape on the booths. She’d have ordered something ridiculous just to see if I’d try it. She’d—
