“Fine,” she said softly. “I deserve that.” She turned to go, her movements slow, expression pained, but she didn’t fight me. “I’m sorry,” she said, meeting my gaze. “I really am. I know I made a mistake and disobeyed you; it was the wrong call.”
I opened my mouth to say anything that might reassure her and keep me from coming off as a complete asshole, but I couldn’t get a single word out before she turned away and headed out the door, leaving me alone to stew in my office.
Chapter23
Paisley
Avoiding Hansen the rest of the day was easier said than done. He seemed to be everywhere at once. Every corner I turned, every time I almost ran into someone, it was Hansen.
Finally, after bumping into him for the third time in an hour, I grabbed a newspaper from the kitchen table pile and hid in the chief’s empty office alone. I had difficulty reading the room, deciphering the expressions on my crew’s faces, and understanding what they were thinking under all that emotional armor. I could only assume at this point that the rest of the squad was still trying to decide if my going into the burning building for a fellow crew member was enough for them to finally accept me . . . or reject me entirely. No one had spoken to me since I’d been back, and I couldn’t figure out if that was good or bad. Maybe it wasn’t a thing at all. Perhaps they just didn’t care, and that was something I would have to live with.
I was three cups of coffee in when a light rap knocked on the office door. I swiveled around in the chair to face them, expecting it to be Hansen or Finn. But it wasn’t either of them. It was Korbin. I hadn’t even realized he was back at work, too.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“Sorry,” I said, setting the paper down on the desk, apprehension flooding my chest as he closed the door behind him. “I’ve been relishing in the silence in here.” Korbin nodded, unspeaking. This was the first time I’d seen him since we’d both been buried under the rubble of that building.
“I wanted to—to thank you for the other day.” He looked down at his hands, studying the callouses, unable to meet my gaze. For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed different; timid, quiet, and not like such a womanizing jackass.
“It’s no problem.” I turned my attention back to the paper, hoping he’d get the hint and free himself of the torture he must have felt having to thank me. For a moment, he seemed to almost turn around and leave. But he didn’t. I didn’t look at him, just pretended to focus on the newspaper. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he sat down in the chair across from me and folded his hands on the desk in front of us.
“No,” he said. “I want to thank you, Paisley. I want to thank you for saving my life.”
“Korbin, it’s fine.” I set the paper down and met his gaze. He was looking directly at me now, staring intently, forcing his words to be heard. I knew this was difficult for him, and it was incredibly awkward for me, too.
“You put your neck on the line for me,” he continued. “You were told not to go in, but you did anyway. Why?”
“I don’t know.” I leaned back in the chair and shrugged one shoulder. “I guess it’s because we’re family, Korbin.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “I mean, aren’t we?”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, just briefly, a smile appeared on his lips.
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess we are.”
* * *
Around six that night, we got an EMS call. Despite my annoyance with Hansen, we had no choice but to take it together. The ride to the scene was quiet. Although it seemed like he kept wanting to say something to me, he never did. I couldn’t think of anything to say either. I didn’t know if he was still angry at me or if he was finally letting it go. It didn’t matter, though, because work came first, not our personal feelings about each other—whatever those may have been.
We pulled up to a quaint little house near the university, and I grabbed the BLS bag and followed Hansen into the house. Around Hansen’s age, a young man met us on the porch. He had dark hair and intense eyes that seemed to read us from where we stood.
“I’m Logan Ryder,” he said. “Thanks for coming. My girlfriend’s friend Abby passed out but didn’t want to go to the hospital. Kass is in with her now, but we wanted her to get checked out.”
Logan opened the front door and ushered us inside. Abby sat up as we came in, waving her friend off, and smirked a bit, looking like she wished she was anywhere but here. Lying on the suede couch in the middle of the living room was a pretty, bushy-haired redhead, and sitting on the arm of the couch next to her was a young woman, maybe a year or two younger than me. The brown-haired girl who I assumed could be Kass was in the middle of taking Abby’s BP.
“Don’t mind Kass,” she said, waving a hand in her friend’s direction. “She’s a compulsive worrier and control freak. I’m fine.”
“People who are fine don’t randomly pass out,” Kass argued. She jotted some numbers down on paper and rolled up the BP cuff. “Don’t mind me,” she said with a smile. “I’m a Paramedic with Denver FD, but I’m off duty right now.”
“Paramedic and med student,” Logan said behind us.
“Impressive,” I noted, and Kass smiled, blushing a bit.
“Abby, right?” Hansen asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Hansen, and this is Paisley,” he said, reaching behind him to take my hand and pull me up to his side. “Your friend said you passed out. How are you feeling now?”
“Kass is being dramatic. I’mfine.” Abby rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, this happens when my blood sugar drops. It’s not a big deal. It’s certainly not the first time she’s called an ambulance for me.”
