I wasn’t good at comforting people I wasn’t close to, but she obviously needed reassurance.
I tried to soften my expression. She was several inches shorter than me, so I had to stoop until my eyes were level with hers.
“I’m not angry or upset with you,” I said. “I understand why you did what you did.”
I waited for a beat, holding her gaze.
Her throat dipped as she swallowed. Then she nodded, relief flickering across her expression.
I straightened, jerking my chin toward the table. “Sit,” I commanded. “I’ll serve the food.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I cleaned off the potato masher and reached for the plates. Palmer made dinner almost every night, even though I’d told her she didn’t have to.
My brow furrowed as I dished the food onto the plates. I wondered whether Palmer thought I expected too much of her. The last thing I wanted was for her to fear me.
Palmer had been an extremely unexpected help, and I was thankful for her.
We all sat down to dinner around the table. Hailey insisted on keeping the kitten tucked against her, feeding him tiny bites of chicken, despite my protests. The thing purred nonstop, clearly convinced it owned the place now.
I kept track of Palmer throughout the meal, unable to look away for too long for reasons I told myself were practical.
I watched the way she spoke to Hailey, the way she listened like every word my daughter said mattered. Hailey leaned into her without hesitation. She could get along with anyone, sure,but she hadn’t been herself since everyone fled to the safe house. Seeing her familiar spark of light return made everything suddenly so much better.
After dinner, I did the dishes while Palmer and Hailey fawned over the kitten, debating names and laughing softly in the living room. The sound followed me down the hall long after I’d finished drying the plates.
When I finally settled into bed for the night, Palmer still hadn’t left my mind.
Hailey didn’t sleep in my bed much anymore since she came, and although I didn’t mind curling up with my little girl, I knew it meant good things. Healing things.
I stared up at the ceiling, exhaustion finally pulling me under, and fell asleep thinking about Palmer’s wide hazel eyes…her full, pink lips…and the way those stupid freckles stood out when she blushed.
Theshrillchirpofmy pager cut through the silence.
I was awake instantly.
Years of alarms had trained my body to move before my mind caught up, and I lay still for only a second, listening as the short burst of information crackled through.
I jolted upright, thinking I heard that wrong.
I reached for my phone and pulled up my department app, my chest tightening as the details loaded.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
There was a structure fire at the local café and bookshop, Latte Pages. The building held plenty of fuel for those flames.
My stomach clenched as I got ready. That building sat on Center Street, surrounded by other old storefronts—brick and timber pressed shoulder to shoulder like dominos waiting to fall. An uncontrolled fire there could spread fast. Too fast. Some of those buildings even had apartments above them.
I dragged on clothes, muscle memory guiding me through the motions, adrenaline humming beneath my skin. My team was more than capable, but this was my town. I needed to be there.
When I finished dressing and grabbed my pager and phone, I checked the time. It was just after eleven. I hadn’t been sleeping long.
I stepped out into the hallway, hesitating as my attention caught on a bedroom door closer to the staircase. Palmer.
I didn’t know whether she was still awake, but I couldn’t leave without telling her. I approached her room and knocked.
Nothing.
She was asleep, then. I knocked again.
