“And yet,” she says, wiggling her brows, “you’re intrigued.”
“I’m concerned for you,” I deadpan. “Does he know what he’s getting into?”
“Wow. Wow, I see how it is.”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “Alright,” I concede. “Details.”
She launches into it: how they met, how he’s “different,” how he’s “actually nice.” Which, given her dating history, is actually groundbreaking.
I let her talk, chiming in just enough to keep her going solely so that Jett might finally be pushed over the edge and confess his love for her.
“-and he texted me this morning,” she’s saying, staring out through the bay doors. “Like, good morning and everything.”
“Scandalous.”
“I know, right?” She’s beaming, kicking her feet off the edge of the counter. Jett’s gripping the table so tightly that I’m surprised a chunk hasn’t snapped off.
Maybe I can push this a bit further. Scott sees the look on my face and gives a tight shake of his head, silently begging me not to push buttons.
I don’t listen.
“You gonna marry him or what?” I ask Alice with a smirk.
“Don’t tempt me,” she giggles like a schoolgirl.
Jett’s eyes are bugging out of his head now. Maybe I pushed it too far.
“Just don’t bring him around here yet,” I say. “Let him keep his illusions a little longer.” And at this rate, a rouge scalpel might go flying out of a rig with a very suspicious looking Jett inside it.
“Wow,” she elongates the syllable, finally looking at Jett. “You’re in a mood today.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbles, standing and storming out of the room before he can hear any more about the salacious firefighter.
We all watch him go, Alice stiff with worry. When I look back at Scott, I know I’ll be getting told off as soon as Alice leaves at the end of her shift.
I get that talking to… and then some as soon as Alice and Jett leave for the day. But I take it because Scott’s right.
“Jett will make his move when he’s ready. And if he doesn’t, that’s his decision,” he’d told me as we checked over the rig at shift change.
Now I’m topping off gauze in the upper cabinet as the radio crackles to life. “Unit 12, respond-”
And just like that, we’re back in it.
I reach for the radio, already shifting gears mentally, locking everything else away where it won’t get in the way.
Work mode time.
As we pull out of the bay and onto the street, I can’t help the brief flicker of thought that slips through before I shove it down.
The detective that night, the way he’d looked at me. The way he’d told me to get back inside while he bled, like my safety was more important than his injury.
Something tells me I’ll be seeing more of him, hopefully not during another shooting and hopefully not when he’s bleeding.
“Seriously, though. You good? Jett told me what happened in front of your apartment building. That’s pretty fucked up,” Scott says, pulling me from my thoughts.
I pause, unsure how to answer. It’s a simple question but he’s right to ask it. I don’t think I am alright. I clutched my mace can yesterday walking to and from the laundromat so hard that it leftdivots in my palm and fingers. And on the way in and out of my building, my eyes locked onto the spot he’d been bleeding on.
Alex, the detective with eyes that dug into my soul. Whose blood spot was somewhat washed away after the shooting, but I could still see where it had been.
