Page 130 of Honeyfires

I kept reading, each sentence making me feel sicker.

Sources say Montgomery, 30, has been in a relationship with controversial firefighter Perpetua Alves, 34, for approximately six to eight months. Sources describe her as "dedicated" and "passionate about literacy programs," but some wonder if her judgment has been compromised by her personal relationship.

"It's concerning that she's defending someone who clearly violated protocol," said one local anonymous library patron. "What kind of message does that send to the children who come here?"

Montgomery's social media accounts show numerous photos of the couple, including several that appear to have been taken at firefighter events, suggesting a close integration of their professional and personal lives. Some critics question whether this relationship represents a conflict of interest...

The article went on, dissecting our relationship like it was evidence in a trial, scrutinizing every photo, every caption, every public display of affection. They'd even found pictures from the library event where I'd met her coworkers, managed to track down quotes from people wondering about "the intimidating woman with the tattoos" who'd shown up to support Vera.

This was my worst fear realized. Not the suspension, not the investigation, not even the national news coverage. This. Vera being dragged into the spotlight because of me, her quiet life invaded by cameras and questions and strangers dissecting our relationship for entertainment.

I called her immediately, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone.

She answered on the second ring. "Hey, I was just about to call you—"

"I saw the article." My voice came out rough, panicked. "Vera, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Petra, baby, breathe.”

"They found us. They're writing about you, about us, they have pictures.”

"I know." Her voice was calmer than mine, but I could hear the tension underneath. "It's been... a morning."

"What do you mean?"

She was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled. "There were reporters outside the library when I got to work. With cameras."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. "No."

"It's fine. They're gone now."

"Vera—"

"I'm fine, Petra. I promise."

But she didn't sound fine.

"What did they say? What did they ask you?"

Another pause. "The usual questions. If I was your partner. If I thought you made the right call. If I was concerned about your judgment."

Jesus Christ. "And what did you say?"

"I told them you saved lives that day. And that if they couldn't see that, they weren't paying attention." I could hear the steel in her voice now, the same fierce certainty she'd had in the grocery store. "Then I walked away."

"Did they follow you?"

"Security made them leave the premises. Henry wasn't happy about it, but he dealt with it."

Henry. Her boss. The library director who'd always been supportive, who'd approved her time off for a weekend trip to Sedona a few months ago, who'd praised her work on the literacy programs. Now he was dealing with reporters because of me.

"I'm coming to get you," I said, already grabbing my keys. "You shouldn't be alone.”

"I'm not alone. I'm at work, surrounded by coworkers. Although some of them are being weird about it."

My hand clenched around the keys hard enough to hurt. "Weird how?"

"Just... asking questions. Acting like they didn't know I was dating someone. Like they're surprised." She sighed. "Helen told them all to mind their own business and get back to work, which helped. But it's still awkward."