“Always,” I say, voice steady. “But I managed to grab a quick walk.”
I want to ask more—about her life, about Liam, about anything—but I know better. Always know better. I just settle for this. For the moment.
She laughs softly, brushing a bit of windblown hair from her face. The sound is like liquid sunlight. “You’re always on the move, Maddox. Ever stop?”
I shake my head. “Not really. Not until someone tells me I can. And you know Gabe—he’s not about to sit me down.” I smirk, hiding the sharp twinge in my side behind a casual posture. No one’s stopping me, not even the fire. I’ve learned that pain’s a detail, not a definition.
She tilts her head at me, curiosity in her gaze. “Still hurt from that fire the other day?”
I flex my arm, the scar on my forearm visible but nothing serious. “Scratch. Nothing that’ll slow me down.”
What’s under the surface stays there. I can’t let it ruin my shot at the top. My crew depends on me, and I can’t be the burden they never signed up for.
We fall into easy banter. She lets me talk her ear off about the video game Liam and I played late into the night, but there’s something different about her.
Something off.
When she asks if I want to come over for dinner tonight, and maybe we can do better than pizza, I automatically say yes.
Then I let her crush me into one of her warm hugs.
Every glance, every smile, every laugh reminds me that I’ve always wanted more, but I’m careful. Respectful. Liam makes sense for her. I’ll take the sidelines.
But I watch. Always.
Even when she’s walking down the street, sunlight catching her hair, I can’t stop the pull. It’s exhilarating. It’s confusing. It’s maddening.
And it’s mine to bear in silence as I brace my side, tend to my crew, and keep moving toward a future that I intend to carve out with my own hands, no matter what it costs.
It’s almost five when we head toward the town hall. The streets have that sticky, late-afternoon heat, and even in our turnout pants and shirts, I can feel the sweat creeping down my back. Angela falls in step beside me, her jacket under her arm.
I glance at her, and she hesitates before saying, “Hey… can I have a moment?”
I raise an eyebrow. It’s only the two of us now—the lieutenants in this firehouse, shoulder to shoulder in ways most people don’t get. “Sure,” I say, slowing my pace.
She drops her voice. “I was talking with the captain,” she starts, running a hand through those stubborn strands of hair that always seem to escape her bun. “About the rise in small fires around town, like the warehouse you were just dealing with. I… I think some of it could be insurance fraud. Six weeks since thetown was destroyed, but… people might be taking advantage. For fucking insurance claims. We’ve got to stay vigilant.”
I nod. “Makes sense.”
“I suggested that we start after-work patrols.”
“The captain’s okay with it?”
“Yeah. But… we barely have the numbers.” She watches me carefully. “I didn’t want to overstep because this would mean longer hours. He said he would approve it if you and I agreed to it.”
“That’s fine by me.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I turn to face her. “What’s up?”
She lowers her voice even more. “Are you hurt?”
I feel my blood go cold as I straighten my features.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.“Yeah. I think I pulled something yesterday, but it’s all fine. I’m on painkillers so that should be sorted once and for all.”
She nods once as she fidgets with a loose strand of hair. Then the words come, casual but loaded: “Now that I’m staying in town… does that mean we can finally have that talk?”
I stop in my tracks, just for a second, and look at her. My chest tightens with memory. We rose through the ranks together, switching firehouses more times than I care to count—her moving from Station Nine, me staying put, chasing the same goal.
