It was just us, standing too close, the decade between us collapsing into nothing.
I leaned in. Instinct. Muscle memory. The way I used to kiss her goodbye before?—
"Stone! Let's go!" Brian's voice rang out across the scene. Then, lower, carrying just enough for me to hear, "You can kiss your girlfriend later."
I pulled back. Sloane's eyes were wide, her breath caught somewhere in her throat.
"I have to?—"
"Yeah." She nodded, a little too fast. "Go. I'll call you later."
I walked back to the rig without looking over my shoulder. Brian was grinning when I climbed in.
"Not a word," I said.
"Wouldn't dream of it." But he was still grinning as the engine pulled away.
We never talked about the almost kiss.
The firehouse was quiet when we got back. The crew hit the showers first—standard routine after a fire, washing off the smoke and sweat and whatever else clung to our skin.
I stood under the spray longer than I needed to, letting the hot water beat against my shoulders while my mind replayed the same moment over and over. The way she'd looked up at me. The way I'd leaned in without thinking, like the last eight years had never happened.
Stupid.
By the time I got out, the others had already shuffled off to their bunks. I followed, expecting exhaustion to pull me under the way it usually did after a call. Instead, I lay there staring at the ceiling, wide awake, when my phone buzzed.
Sloane.
I answered before I could talk myself out of it. "Hey."
"Hey. Did I wake you?"
"No. Couldn't sleep."
"Me neither."
A pause. I heard her exhale, could picture her in her apartment, probably still surrounded by case files, probably still wearing the clothes she'd had on at the scene.
"I wanted to debrief. Diaz called me on my way home."
"Yeah?"
"Her FBI contact came through. Keene traced the financials on those inspectors and found connections to the shell companies. She wouldn't say more over the phone, but she wants to meet tomorrow." Another pause. "This could be it, Garrett. The break we've been waiting for."
"That's good." My voice came out quieter than I intended. "That's really good."
"Let's talk about it tomorrow evening? After I meet with Diaz?"
"Yeah, of course."
Silence stretched between us.
The kind of silence that used to fill our late-night phone calls when we first started dating, when neither of us wanted to be the one to hang up first. We'd talk until our voices went hoarse, then just breathe together, the phone pressed to our ears like a lifeline.
I'd forgotten how much I missed this. Her voice in the dark. The intimacy of being the last person she talked to before sleep.
"Garrett? Are you still there?"
