Mission City Man Grows Prize-Winning Petunias.
Nine-Year-Old Violin Prodigy Taking Classical Music World by Storm.
Meet the Nurse Who Cared for Preemie Babies for Fifty Years.
I scrolled and scrolled and scrolled.
All of the stories Ulysses had written since coming to Mission City in July. And I found tons of them. Standard ones about crime and politics. Stuff one would expect from a small town.
But also, a huge number of human-interest stories. About people who might’ve otherwise be forgotten in the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
“Watcha doing?” Miriam plopped onto the couch next to me.
I closed the browser on my phone. “Nothing important.”
“If you say so.” She eyed me. “Have you spoken to Giancarlo?”
I shook my head. “His arraignment was yesterday while we were at that accident on the mountain road.”
“Crazy driver.”
“Yeah. Seth said the woman must’ve been going almost a hundred klicks when she crashed.”
“I can’t believe she’s alive.”
“Me either.” Although her injuries were pretty devastating and she faced months in rehab to recover from all those broken bones. The human body just wasn’t designed to withstand those kinds of forces. “I mean, I was on shift and so couldn’t have gone anyway. And we’re down a body because we lost Giancarlo—”
“Yeah.” Miriam sighed. “It’s just…a mess. He got bail, right?”
I nodded. “So he should be around his place. I’ll go by after work.”
“Tell him I think he’s an assholeandI hope he gets his shit together sooner rather than later.”
I laughed. “I can try. He’s more likely to listen to you than me.”
She cocked her head.
“He’s scared of you. I don’t intimidate him.”
“You’re a pussycat.”
“I think that’s my point. When did I become such a soft touch?” I groused.
“Oh, Finn, really? You were always the guy who was going to rescue kittens and escort little old ladies across the street. It’s why you’re such a great firefighter—you do it for the right reasons.” She examined her fingernails. “How’s it going with the reporter?”
My gaze shot to hers.
She both snickered and rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Finn. You’re so damn obvious. You’re trying to keep a decorous distance and act like nothing’s going on while it’s so clear you’re going at it like—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.” I gave herthatlook. Pretend-threatening.
She laughed. In my face.
More proof I was just a softie at heart. I pressed my hand to her arm. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is. Do you want to talk—”
The alarm sounded.
