"I try to be." I clear my throat, uncomfortable with the rawness of the moment. "Anyway, Paul took a chance on me when the other stations wouldn't. Said I had good instincts, even if I talked too much."
Michelle laughs, the sound warm in the quiet room.
"This place, these people—" I gesture vaguely toward the hallway where the rest of the crew is. "They're the first real home I've had. The first place I've belonged."
She's watching me intently now, something shifting in her expression. "Tonight, when you found me in the studio..." shebegins, her voice dropping lower. "The way you looked at me. It wasn't just a firefighter rescuing a victim."
My heart pounds harder. We're veering into territory I'm not sure I should enter, but I can't seem to stop myself. "No," I admit. "It wasn't."
"I've never been so scared," she confesses. "I thought I was going to die in there. And then suddenly you were there, and everything changed." She takes a breath, her eyes never leaving mine. "I felt safe. Even with everything burning around us."
"I was terrified," I whisper, the admission feeling like stepping off a cliff. "The thought of losing you. Of being too late. When I saw the smoke, when I knew you were inside—" I stop, struggling to make sense of the emotions still crashing through me. "I've never been that terrified in my life, Michelle. Not for myself, not for anyone."
Her eyes widen, her lips parting slightly.
"I don't understand it," I continue, unable to stop now that I've started. "I don't understand how this happened so fast. But when I saw you in there, something inside me just... snapped. And all I could think was that I had to get you out, had to keep you safe, because the alternative was unthinkable."
I run a shaking hand through my hair, aware that I'm saying too much, that I should stop, but unable to halt the flow of truth.
"I know you're Paul's sister. I know there are boundaries, lines I shouldn't cross. But when I was carrying you out of that fire, when I felt you breathing against me—" My voice breaks again. "Nothing else mattered. Nothing but you."
Michelle steps closer, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, can feel the warmth radiating from herbody. Her hand moves from my wrist to my chest, resting over my thundering heart.
"I can't stop thinking about it," she whispers. "The way you held me. The way you shielded me with your body. The way I felt completely safe, even with everything burning around us." Her fingers curl slightly against my shirt. "I've never felt anything like that before."
My breath catches in my throat. Her face is tilted up to mine, her eyes wide and vulnerable and sure all at once.
She rises on her toes, closing the distance between us. Her lips meet mine, soft and tentative at first, then with growing certainty. The world narrows to this single point of contact, her mouth on mine, sweet and smoke-tinged and perfect.
For a heartbeat, I'm frozen in shock. Then something breaks loose inside me, and I'm kissing her back with all the fear and relief and longing that's been building since the moment I saw her in that burning studio.
My arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the soft curves of her body press against mine. Her hands slide up my chest to my shoulders, to the back of my neck, her fingers threading through my hair.
The kiss deepens, grows desperate. I taste tea and honey on her tongue, breathe in the scent of her skin beneath the smoke.
She makes a small sound against my mouth that sends heat coursing through my veins. Everything else falls away—the station, the crew, the fire, the fear—until there is only Michelle, warm and alive in my arms.
One of her hands slides to my face, her thumb brushing over my cheekbone with such tenderness that my heart nearly stops. Ipull her closer still, needing to feel every inch of her against me, to reassure myself that she's really here, really safe, really doing this.
"What the hell is this?"
Paul's voice cuts through the moment like a knife, harsh and cold. We break apart, but I keep one arm around Michelle's waist, unable to let her go completely.
Paul stands in the doorway, his face a mask of fury and disbelief. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his posture rigid with barely contained rage.
"Paul—" Michelle begins, but he cuts her off.
"You nearly died tonight," he says, his voice tight. "You're not thinking clearly. And you—" He turns to me, and the betrayal in his eyes is worse than any anger. "I trusted you. With my sister's life. With my respect."
Shame and defiance war within me. I release Michelle gently, stepping forward to face Paul directly.
"I'm sorry you saw this," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "But I'm not sorry about how I feel."
"How you feel?" Paul laughs, the sound harsh and humorless. "You've known her for a day."
"That's not true," Michelle interjects, moving to stand beside me. "We've talked a few times. Coffee at The Enchanted Bean. The station dinners. The community events."
"Talking isn't this," Paul gestures between us, disgust evident in his expression. "This is taking advantage of someone who's traumatized, who's grateful to be alive."
