She nods. “Not his face. Not really. But they…” she swallows, “they called him something.”
Mason leans in slightly. “What?”
Her voice drops. “York.”
The name hits heavily even though I don’t recognize it. Across the scene, Alex freezes. I see it, telling me he was listening to it too.
His attention sharpens like a blade as he makes his way towards Mason.
I shouldn’t be watching him, but I can’t look away.
He crouches beside them, saying something low I can’t hear. Mason looks up at him, expression shifting instantly. They’re communicating without words. Again.
And it hits me; this isn’t new to them.
“Liv,” Scott says, pulling my attention off of Alex and back onto my patient.
I force myself back into motion, mentally chastising myself for letting my attention get pulled away so badly.
But everything feels different now, heavier and darker.
This isn’t about the fire anymore.
As the fire dies down and the chaos begins to settle, my mind doesn’t. And once my last patient is stabilized, I look up again and find him already looking at me. I don’t need to say it, I can already tell that he knows I was listening.
That I know.
I know what was happening in that building.
And I’ve finally figured out that I didn’t meet a detective that night outside my apartment. I stepped into his world. And now there’s no stepping back out.
Chapter 9
Liv
I don’t see him for three days after the fire, which shouldn’t bother me. And definitely doesn’t; or at least that’s what I tell myself. Because I’m too busy to notice the lack of him. Between extra shifts and back-to-back calls, I’m too busy being so exhausted that it’s in my bones and is making everything feel just a little bit heavier. It should be enough to keep my mind occupied.
It’s not.
Because every time the rig turns down my street, I look. Every time I pass by that building, I look. Every time I hear a siren in the distance, I wonder.
It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid.
Which is why, on day four, when I drag myself up the stairs to my apartment after a fourteen-hour shift, I definitely don’t expect to see him.
But there he is. Leaning against the wall outside my door, like he belongs there.
My steps slow, just slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for him to pick up on it. His head lifts as soon as I hit the landing, eyes locking onto mine instantly.
“Detective,” I say teasingly.
“Ms. Carter.”
God. That shouldn’t do anything for me. And yet…
“What are you doing here?” I ask, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder as I dig my keys out.
He pushes off the wall slowly. Casually, too casually. “I was in the area.”
