I exhale through gritted teeth and lean my head back against the seat. “It was nothing serious. A faulty outlet. I’m just…irritated. I didn't notice it earlier when I picked up my damn coffee today.”
“Right,” he says, in a tone that implies he believes exactly none of that. “You’re irritated because the wiring could’ve hurt her, and you’re Superman with x-ray vision so you should have seen it sooner. Not because it could have hurtyourgirl.”
“She’s not my girl,” I reply too quickly.
Chief Burns smirks like he knew that was coming. “Sure. And I’m Santa Claus.”
“You could be. There’s a rumor the Dawsons may be looking to officially retire. Mistletoe Bay may be looking for a permanent replacement,” I quip back.
He just shakes his head at me with an amused smile as we pull into the station. The red bay doors are closed, but the glow of the interior lights seeps out from the small windows like a beacon in the night.
Inside, most of the guys are already out of their gear. A few glance up when I walk in—just enough to acknowledge me before returning to whatever they were doing. Except for Wyatt Keaton, my best friend at the fire house, who looks like he’s been waiting for my return.
He raises his eyebrows. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well,” he repeats slowly, “is Emmy okay? Should I go get her a card? A cupcake? A therapy dog? A bouquet of fire extinguishers?”
I stare at him.
He grins wider. “Sooo…you’re not fine.”
“I’m fine,” I say flatly. “She’s fine. The building’s a mess, you saw it. But all of that is fixable.”
He leans a hip against the metal table in the center of the room. “You’re gonna check that wiring in the morning, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re doing that before you even go home and get some rest, right?”
“Yes.”
Wyatt blinks. “Jesus Christ, Hayes. At least try to pretend you’re not in love with her.”
I should punch him. Or walk away. Or deny it.
Instead, I grab a bottle of water, twist the cap too hard, and say, “Shut up.”
Which only makes him laugh. Loudly.
Loud enough that Chief Burns calls from his office, “Stop antagonizing him, Keaton. The man almost combusted tonight without your help.”
Wyatt winks. “Love you too, Chief.”
I take a long drink and stare down at the concrete floor.
Usually coming back to the firehouse after a call allows me to feel grounded.
Except nothing feels grounded anymore.
Not when I can still see Emmy’s trembling hands.
Not when I can still hear her say, “You’ve been taking care of me my whole life.”
Not when some unguarded part of me whispered back, “And I always will.”
Wyatt’s voice cuts in again, quieter this time. “Hey. Tomorrow’s gonna be rough. You sure you’re good to be the one helping her fix things up?”
