Cole shrugs. "However much she needs. You can't force someone to process trauma on your timeline, Shaw. You know that."
I do know that. I spent years at the Forge teaching exactly that principle—healing isn't linear, everyone moves at their own pace, pressure creates resistance rather than progress.
Knowing it intellectually doesn't make living it easier.
The carburetor sits in pieces on my workbench, components arranged in precise order. I could reassemble it in my sleep. Could rebuild this entire engine blindfolded. Can't fix whatever's happening in Mira's head, can't force her to trust me or herself, can't make her understand that what she felt was real.
Control is an illusion. Always has been. I teach people that at the Forge—real power exchange isn't about control, it's about trust and communication and choosing to surrender. Right now, watching Mira shut me out, I'd give anything for the kind of control that could reach through her walls and pull her back.
The third day brings no change. No texts, no calls, no acknowledgment that anything happened between us at all. I'm reviewing fire reports at my desk when dispatch radios about an insurance investigator requesting access to evidence storage. Marshal Davis is handling it, they say. Should be wrapped up within the hour.
I know who it is before I look up and see her through the station windows.
She's there to review evidence with Marshal Davis, professional and focused in her pressed jeans and sweater. Hair pulled back, minimal makeup, nothing about her appearance suggests she spent the last three days avoiding me—until she sees me across the parking lot and her whole body goes rigid.
I change direction, heading toward her before she can escape inside. "Mira."
"Shaw." Polite. Professional. Distant as hell.
"You've been avoiding me."
"I've been working the case. Following up on vendor contracts, building financial profiles, doing my job."
"While ignoring my calls."
"I needed space. To think."
"To spiral alone, you mean." Frustration bleeds into my voice before I can control it. "To convince yourself that what happened at the Forge was a failure instead of you doing exactly what you were supposed to do."
Her jaw tightens. "You don't know what I'm thinking."
"Don't I? You hit a trigger, yellowed like you should, and now you're second-guessing everything. Whether what you felt was real. Whether you can trust yourself. Whether wanting what you want makes you broken." I step closer, watching her pupils dilate. "Am I wrong?"
"That's not—" She stops, because she can't lie convincingly. "I'm working through it."
"You're beating yourself up. There's a difference."
"I'm being careful. Making sure I don't make the same mistakes."
"By shutting out anyone who might help? That's not careful, Mira. That's running scared."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm protecting myself. Maybe I need to figure out what I actually want before someone else tells me."
"I'm not telling you what you want. I'm showing you what's possible."
"How do I know the difference?" Her voice cracks slightly. "How do I know if what I feel with you is real or if you're just better at this than Todd was?"
The comparison hits harder than it should. I know it's fear talking, know she's lashing out because she's scared and can't tell past from present. Doesn't make it sting less.
Something cold settles in my chest. Something that whispers I should have known better than to get involved with someone still so deep in their shit that they can't separate me from their ex.
"If that's what you think I'm doing, then maybe you're right to keep your distance." I step back, hands in my pockets. "Take all the space you need, Mira. But don't expect me to chase you. When you're ready to stop running from yourself, you know where to find me."
I turn and walk away before she can respond. Before I say something I'll regret. Before frustration overrides better judgment and I push when I should be giving space.
Inside the fire station, I head straight for my office and close the door.
Cole's right. She needs time to process. Needs space to separate past from present, conditioning from authentic desire, fear from reality. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Doesn't mean walking away from her doesn't feel like losing something before we even had a chance to figure out what it was.
