Monroe Shepard might be in his mid-forties, but there is no denying that he’s earned his position as the Sterling Creek Fire Chief. He’s damn good at his job—one he’s held for just over five years now.
Monroe and my father worked close together for years before Dad retired, and have maintained that friendship since. It means the line between personal and professional blurs more than I’d like, and it’s how I also knew Monroe would be pushing at those boundaries as soon as he called me into his office.
“Braxton,” he says, exhaling deeply. “There’s a lot we see in this job that stays with us for a long time. Even if you don’t believe it has a lasting impact, it does.”
“I’m aware.”
“AndIam aware that you haven’t spoken to anyone, even after I told you to.” His eyes never leave mine, his expression severe.
I slouch in my seat, picking at a loose thread on the seam of the sweatpants I changed into when we got back to the station. “I don’t need to talk to anyone.”
Monroe leans back, running a hand over the short beard covering his square jaw, the bristly hair more salt and pepper than the dark brown covering his head. “We allneed to talk it out sometimes.” A shadow flickers through his eyes, like a painful memory is rearing its head. His lashes lower, and when they lift again, that darkness is gone. “And what you saw?—”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m fine, Monroe.”
“Are you?” The two words are filled with doubt. “Have you told Gracie about the accident?” At the look on my face, his frown deepens. “She must have heard about it?”
I lift a shoulder. “Her boss is away, and it’s the holiday season. She’s busy and doesn’t like reading the depressing shit in the news.” I lean forward, eyeing him seriously. “Gracie doesn’t need that on her shoulders.”
Monroe purses his lips, his disappointment heavy in the air. “That isn’t how relationships work, Braxton. You’re supposed to be a team, especially when you’re working in a profession like this one. You can’t just bottle this up and hope it will all go away.” My eyes slide away from his as he adds, “It all comes out, one way or another. Don’t you think Gracie would want the choice of supporting you through this?”
I sink my teeth into the fleshy part of my cheeks, sucking back every word that wants to spew from my mouth. The fact that Monroe is giving me relationship advice is laughable. His wife died years ago, but it’s no secret that his marriage wasn’t exactly content. And it’s telling that he’s refused to even contemplate the idea of another relationship, despite my meddling mother frequently trying to set him up.
Unaware of my uncharitable thoughts, Monroe continues, “I can get you some free counseling sessions if you want to take that route. The guy we use is over in Ashland, so you don’t have to worry about anyone in town seeing you.” My mouth twists into a scowl, but Monroe isn’t bothered by it. “Or you could talk to someone a bit closer. Youknow your father is more than a little experienced with this kind of thing.”
A disbelieving laugh bursts out of me. “Are you ordering me to talk to my dad, Chief?”
He leans back, resting his hands on his stomach as he throws an arch look my way. “If it comes down to it.” He stares at me, daring me to argue, but when I hold my silence, he shakes his head. “Ben was released from hospital yesterday. He should be back on his shift next week. I know you’re working for him Friday, but that’s it for you this week.”
Inwardly rolling my eyes, I slap my hand against my knee, then stand. “Good talk.”
He glowers at me, but I’m already saluting him and stalking from the office, taking my chance to escape while it’s here. I head straight for the common room, finding Marco and Asher sitting at either end of the sagging couch.
I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge before taking the armchair next to the couch, glaring at Marco’s booted feet that are planted on the coffee table.
“You know how Theo feels about that,” I mutter, twisting the cap off the bottle and tipping it up to my mouth.
“Don’t give a shit,” he says jovially, eyes twinkling. “I don’t eat off the table anyway. I’m not a savage. I use a plate.” The amusement fades away into curiosity. “What did the chief want?”
I press my lips into a firm line. “Nothing,” I grunt. “Just a check-in.”
Asher’s staring down at the phone in his hand, the device looking tiny in his massive paw, but he’s still listening—proven when he tells Marco, “Chief wanted to talk to him about the accident a week before Thanksgiving.”
“The one where?—”
“We aren’t talking about it,” I snap.Jesus Christ.“I don’t understand why everyone can’t take me at my word. If I say I’m fine, I’mfine.” I slide my eyes to Asher, asking slyly, “Never took you for a teenage girl. How’s Rochelle?”
Regret coils in my stomach when he looks up, his blue eyes icy. “My wife is fine,” he says curtly. “How’s Gracie? You guys still looking at buying a house?”
“Yep,” I say easily. “We went and looked at the place she wants, and we’re gonna put an offer in.”
Marco’s brows rise. “Trying to buy a house just before Christmas seems extra stressful.”
“The timing isn’t ideal,” I admit, feeling the truth of those words. Gracie is worried, especially with her boss away, but I told her I would take care of all the paperwork. I look down, picking at the sticky label on the plastic bottle. “It’s basically Gracie’s dream house. If we wait, we might lose our chance at it.”
Asher has gone back to his phone, but Marco playfully grins at me. “Feels like it’s been weeks since we’ve seen Gracie.”
“She’s busy, pulling extra hours at the flower shop.” I eye him suspiciously, finishing on a mutter, “but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
