“But—”
“Now.”
Noah might be the coworker equivalent of an annoying little brother, but he’s not disobedient. Even as he frowns at the captain’s order, he stands and leaves to do what he’s told.
When it’s just me and Hargrove, I dare to ask, “You alright?”
Me and the captain go way back. At least a decade, long before he became captain and I was promoted to a paramedic role. And when I lost Bella a few years ago, he checked on me every single day during my bereavement leave. He even wrote me the letter of recommendation that convinced the state to let me become Leo’s official guardian, even though he’s not my son by blood.
He looks tough on the outside and he acts like he’s impenetrable, but the truth is that Hargrove has a soft heart, deep down inside.
“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” he counters, slipping his hands into his pockets. His jaw is tight, eyes unfocused—like he’s already bracing for a hit he knows is coming. He’s trying to appear casual, but there’s nothing relaxed about the tense set of his shoulders and the little twitch in the corner of his eye that always happens whenever he’s stressed.
I switch gears. “Did the gala go well?”
“Why wouldn’t it have?”
“This isn’t an interrogation, man.”
He deflates slightly. “Right. Sorry. Yes, it went well. Lila—the PR team got plenty of content, I imagine.”
“But did you have a nice time?”
Hargrove snorts humorlessly. “I never have a nice time at those sorts of events. You know that.”
I might be one of the few people at Station 47 who knows anything about the captain’s past. Like the fact that he was raised up in Westchester by absurdly wealthy and intensely strict parents. Years ago, he told me his father wanted him to go to Yale and then be groomed to inherit the family company, but instead he moved to the city and enrolled in an EMT course.
He doesn’t talk to his family much anymore, and he likes to avoid anyone who reminds him of that blue blood world.
So, I switch tactics. “Did Lila at least enjoy herself?”
Something flickers in his gaze, but I don’t understand it. Guilt, maybe? Confusion? Some kind of weird ferocity?
“I can’t speak for her,” is all he says.
“Right.”
He sighs loudly, shaking his head. “It’s just that the Hawk is stressing me the fuck out.”
Kate Branson, he means. Our union rep. She’s made of tougher stuff than most of the hardened civil servants here, but she’s easy enough to deal with as long as you’re polite and compliant.
“How so?”
“She’s pissed about this Save a Hero thing. Keeps reminding me that there’s no fraternizing allowed. Nearly threatened to harvest my organs when she heard the first episode would show Lila as my date for the evening.”
“But what’s the big deal when it wasn’t an actual date? It’s just a lighthearted premise for content.”
Again, there’s an odd look in his eyes, and then he simply shrugs in response.
“Why don’t you head home?” I suggest, even though I’m not the one who gives commands in this dynamic. “You’re not even on duty tonight.”
Hargrove waves me off, already turning back toward the door. “Got stuff to do.”
I frown at his back, but then Old Bill gives a comically loud snort as he startles awake.
“Look alive, boy,” he tells me. “We’ve got trouble.”
“There haven’t been any calls for—”
