Before I can formulate a response that won't tank my career, Aiden steps slightly forward. The movement is subtle—protective without being aggressive.
"Actually, Riley was just explaining some details about molecular analysis in arson investigation." His voice warms—genuine enthusiasm, or a very good fake. "Did you know her spectrometer work helped solve that insurance fraud case the police wrote off as accidental?"
Wade's expression suggests he finds this information about as interesting as watching paint dry, but Aiden's redirect has shifted the conversation away from personal attacks.
"If you'll excuse us," Aiden continues, polite but firm, "we promised to answer some questions about fire prevention."
Wade nods curtly and moves away, but not before his gaze lingers on our joined hands with obvious skepticism. Message received: he's not buying this for a second.
As the tension gradually dissipates, Aiden guides me toward the river's edge where the walking path offers privacy. The sound of flowing waterprovides natural cover, and shade from overhanging trees makes the space feel almost private.
"You okay?" He's watching me with concern that looks annoyingly real.
"Fine." The word comes out clipped. "I'm used to Wade's particular brand of encouragement."
"That wasn't encouragement. That was him being an ass."
"Same thing, coming from Wade." I pull my hand free and cross my arms—a defensive gesture I recognize even as I'm doing it. "He's not wrong, though. About the publicity angle."
"He's completely wrong." Aiden's voice sharpens. "You're not here for publicity. You're here because Chief Rodriguez gave us an order, and you follow orders even when they make you miserable. That's called professionalism, not selling out."
The vehemence catches me off guard. "You sound almost angry."
"I am angry." He runs a hand through his hair. "Wade's been gunning for me since I got here. Fine, I can handle that. But dragging you into it? Implying you'd abandon real work for photo ops?" His jaw tightens. "That's not okay."
Warmth spreads through me. I aggressively ignore it.
"I can fight my own battles, Gentry."
"I know you can." His eyes meet mine. "Doesn't mean you have to fight them alone."
The moment stretches. A family walks past with a stroller, breaking whatever spell has temporarily short-circuited my common sense.
Aiden clears his throat. "Tell me about your father's influence on your career. You mentioned he believed in letting work speak for itself."
The question catches me off guard. Most people, when they ask about my dad, want dramatic stories—heroic rescues, dangerous calls. Aiden's asking about philosophy. About the values that shaped who I became.
"He used to say truth was like fire." A small laugh escapes. "I know that sounds too poetic for an arson investigator, but he meant that truth burns away everything false if you give it enough air and time. Evidence doesn't lie. People do."
Aiden nods slowly, processing. "So when you investigate a scene, you're not just looking for how the fire started. You're looking for what people are trying to hide."
"Exactly." The relief of being understood without lengthy explanation is unexpected. "Every burn pattern, every point of origin, every chemical signaturetells part of the story. People can claim anything they want, but evidence reveals what actually happened."
"And this whole situation we're in..." He trails off, then tries again. "Faking something for cameras. That's got to feel like betraying everything he stood for."
My throat tightens. Three days into this charade, and Aiden Gentry has identified the exact source of my discomfort better than I have.
"He would have hated the social media circus," I manage. "Dad believed good work should be recognized, but he never understood wanting attention for just doing your job. Publicity was for politicians and entertainers. Not public servants."
"How much pressure do you feel to live up to his reputation?"
Another gut-punch question. Most people see my early success as purely positive—proof of exceptional skill. Aiden's the first to recognize that early recognition comes with weight attached.
"Constant." The word slips out before I can soften it. "Every case, every court appearance, every time someone mentions his name and then looks at me to see if I measure up."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is." I kick a pebble into the river, watching it disappear into the current. "Sometimes I wonder if I chose arson investigation because it was adjacent to his work but different enough that I couldn't be directly compared. Structure fires require quick decisions under pressure, reading situations in real time. Investigation is methodical, analytical. You can take time to get it right."
