“And he said you’d assign me tasks.”
“Correct.”
Her smile is small. Controlled. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “Then assign away.”
My gaze drops to her hands. There’s a faint smudge of soot near her thumb—already earned, already real. Her nails are short. Practical. No polish.
Not the girl who left, then.
I glance up. “You can start by learning where everything is.”
“I know where everything is,” she says. “I grew up here.”
A couple of the guys make appreciative little noises, like they just watched her throw a dart.
I don’t smile. “Not the same.”
Her eyes narrow. “Is that your official training philosophy? ‘Not the same’?”
“Yep,” I say. “You’ll learn it.”
Sadie steps closer—half a foot, maybe. Enough that I can smell her shampoo under the firehouse scent, clean and sharp and dangerously familiar. Enough that my brain turns traitor and flashes a memory of her hair spilled over my pillow.
“Okay,” she says, voice low enough only I can hear. “Levi.”
There it is. The secret. My name on her lips lights me up like a match.
My throat tightens. I keep my face blank. “Save that for off-duty.”
“Are we off-duty?” she asks, eyes sliding down my chest like she’s reading the name stitched above my pocket.
I feel it like fingers.
I don’t move. I don’t flinch. I refuse to give her the satisfaction.
“No.”
Her smile deepens. A weapon, pretty and sharp. “Then I guess I’ll keep calling you Lieutenant Kane.”
“Good,” I say.
“Because you like it?” she challenges.
Because it keeps my hands from doing something stupid. “Because it keeps you professional.”
She hums, unimpressed. “You’ve always loved giving orders.”
Ash chokes on a laugh. I cut my eyes toward him. “Ash, find something to do.”
“I am doing something,” he says, delighted. “I’m witnessing history.”
“Go witness it from the other room.”
He saunters away like he has all day.
Sadie’s gaze stays on me. “Are you always this charming with new interns?”
“Yes,” I deadpan. “They love it.”
