Liam didn't leave. I could feel him observing me, wrapped in that patient silence he was so good at. Most people couldn't outlast it. They'd start talking just to fill the void, confessing things they'd never meant to say.
I'd known him too long to fall for it. But that didn't mean it wasn't working.
Owen walked in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. He had grease on his forearm, probably from the project he'd been working on all week, some carburetor he'd found at a swap meet that he was convinced he could restore. Owen was always fixing things: engines, appliances, even relationships.He couldn’t stand the idea of something broken without trying to make it whole.
"Hey, Cal." He tossed the rag over his shoulder. "Some of us are grabbing beers after shift. That place on Fifth with the good wings. You in?"
Normally, I'd say yes. Beers with the crew were a tradition, one of those unwritten rules that held the station together. You showed up. You unwound. You told stories that got more exaggerated with every retelling and laughed at jokes that weren't that funny and pretended for a few hours that the job didn't weigh as much as it did.
I'd been saying yes for fifteen years. Through good shifts and bad shifts, through breakups and funerals, through nights when the last thing I wanted was to be around people and I showed up anyway because that was what you did. That was what families did.
"Can't tonight," I said. "I have to get home."
The word landed differently.Home.I'd said it a thousand times before, but it had never sounded like that. Never carried that particular weight and that particular warmth. Like home was something more than an apartment I slept in. Like home was something I was actually looking forward to.
Owen and Liam exchanged a look. The one who said they'd noticed something different. The kind of look that said they'd be comparing notes later, piecing together the puzzle of why their captain was suddenly turning down beer and rushing back to his apartment.
"Hot date?" The words were easy, effortless. Too casual. Way too casual.
"Just tired.", I said quickly before he could press.
"Uh-huh." He drew the word out, loaded it with skepticism. "You've worked back-to-back shifts for three years without getting tired. But sure. Tired."
"People change." The words came out clipped, final.
"People do." He tilted his head, studying me. "Question is, what changed?"
I didn't answer because I didn't know how to explain. How was I supposed to say that my apartment didn't feel empty anymore? That I'd started looking forward to the end of my shifts in a way I never had before? That there was a woman living in my guest room who made dinner and laughed at my stories and sometimes looked at me like I was someone worth looking at.
Riley walked past, caught the tail end of the conversation, and raised an eyebrow. She slowed down just long enough to take in the scene, me surrounded by equipment I didn't need to check, Liam and Owen wearing matching expressions of barely concealed curiosity, and then kept walking without comment.
Small mercies.
I thought.
"Rain check," I said to Owen. "Next week. I promise."
He nodded, but his expression gave him away. He didn’t believe me. Neither did Liam. They’d knownme too long, worked beside me through too much. They could tell when something had shifted, even if they couldn’t say what.
"Sure, Cap." Owen's voice was easy, unchallenging. That was Owen. He'd give you space even when he was curious. Even when he knew you weren't telling him everything. "Next week."
They walked away together, laughter trailing behind them. Probably about me. Liam was already piecing things together, trying to make sense of the shift he’d noticed.
The station kitchen was empty at 2 AM. It was just me and the coffee maker and the low hum of the fluorescent lights.
I sat at the table with an untouched mug, staring at the duty roster on the wall. Twenty-four names.. Twenty-four people who counted on me to keep my head straight, to make the right calls and to bring them home safe.
I'd been doing this job for fifteen years. Never let anything distract me. Never let anything get between me and the work.
Until this.
This is about the promise,I told myself.About Mateo. About duty. She's in danger, and I'm protecting her, and that's all this is.
But the truth kept bleeding through the cracks in that story.
I wasn't checking on her out of obligation anymore. I was coming home because I wanted to see her. I was making her coffee because I liked the way she smiled when I got it right. I was telling her stories because her laugh had become the best part of my day.
I was already falling.
