Izzy
How did the legal meeting go? Routine subpoena stuff?
I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. How could I explain that everything I thought I knew about my ability to protect people had just been shattered? How could I tell her that the man she'd trusted with her vulnerability, the one she'd let take care of her when she was falling apart, was actually useless when it came to saving anyone who really needed it?
I typed back:
Just routine stuff. Nothing to worry about.
It was a lie, but it was the only response I could manage. Izzy had enough to deal with — Cap's declining health, her own professional challenges. She didn't need to know that the man she was falling in love with was a fraud, someone who could make French toast and offer empty comfort but couldn't actually protect anyone when it mattered.
I drove home in a daze, Lisa's face haunting every mile. At my apartment, I sat on my couch and stared at the wall, trying to reconcile the man I thought I was with the reality of what I'd just learned. The nurturing, protective instincts that defined my sense of self felt like cruel jokes now. What good was the desire to heal if you couldn't actually save anyone?
When my phone rang an hour later with Izzy's ringtone, I almost let it go to voicemail. But she'd already texted, and not answering her call would worry her. She had enough to deal with.
"Hey," I said, forcing normalcy into my voice.
"Hi." She sounded tired but warm. "How are you feeling? You sounded kind of off in your text."
"Just tired," I lied smoothly. "You know how these legal meetings drag on. How was your paperwork marathon?"
"Frustrating. C-shift left the station looking like a disaster zone." There was something else in her voice, an edge I couldn't quite identify. "And Santoro showed up."
Every instinct told me to ask what happened, to dig deeper, to be the supportive partner she needed. But I felt hollowed out, like there was nothing left of me to give.
"Sounds like that was a lot of fun," I said instead, the response automatic and insufficient.
A pause. "Yeah. It was."
I should have pressed. Should have heard the weight in hervoice and responded to it. But all I could think about was Lisa's face, the hope in her eyes when I'd promised her safety I couldn't deliver.
"Alright, beautiful, I should probably try to get some sleep before my shift tonight," I said, the excuse tasting bitter in my mouth.
"Of course. I love you."
"Love you too," I replied, the words feeling like a betrayal. How could I love her when I couldn't even protect a stranger who'd trusted me?
After I hung up, I sat in the growing darkness of my apartment, wondering how many other people I'd failed without even knowing it, and whether I'd ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again.
chapter
twenty-five
The shift was a "good"one, as far as they went. The calls were routine; a fender bender with no injuries, a lift assist at a nursing home, a dumpster fire behind a restaurant that we knocked down before it could even think about extending to the main building. Between calls, the station was filled with an easy, comfortable energy. The tension with A-shift over the hose load incident had simmered down, and my crew was back to their usual rhythm of training, checks, and relentless, good-natured insults.
My own internal landscape was quieter, too. The constant, low-grade hum of anxiety had been replaced by a steady warmth that had its epicenter in my phone.
Jimmy
Thinking about you. Hope it’s a quiet one.
So far, so good. Just watching Martinez try to parallel park the engine. It’s a terrifying and beautiful thing to behold.
Jimmy
Be nice. He’s learning.
I was smiling at my phone, feeling a lightness that was stillunfamiliar, when the tones dropped. The sound was different this time — sharper, more urgent.
