I nod, knowing that feeling well. “Sometimes it can be good, though.”
“Oh yeah, of course. I wouldn’t trade my job for anything else in the world.” He nods at his laptop.
“What are you working on now?” I ask.
“Just some of my own research.” He takes a pause. “There have been a lot of house fires recently that seem to be arson. I’m not sure if they’re connected, even though they follow similar patterns.”
“In what sense?” All I know about his job is that he finds out how fires start, but I have no idea how that works.
“The victims. They’re all families, and all of the fires are intense, with multiple points of origin.” He focuses on his screen for a second. “We’ve ruled out the owners as the suspects, which leaves things a little open. It’s hard to find forensic evidence that’s clear cut, like hair or fingerprints. Makes the job more challenging. But I can tell that whoever’s setting the fires isn’t just some dumb kid doing it for fun. The accelerants used are uncommon, which suggests that the person knows more about fires than the average person. Usually, most people use gasoline.”
He mentally slides away for a second, typing furiously. I like the way he looks when he focuses.
“I didn’t know it was that involved,” I say.
“Yeah.” He looks back up at me.
“Sounds like you love it. The investigating, the mystery.”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve always wondered what it would be like if I hadn’t had that conversation with Uncle Jack.” He stretches his legs out in front of him and closes his laptop. “I can’t imagine not being able to use my brain like this every day.”
I wonder where I would be if I’d actually married Grant. Divorced, probably. I’m not sure what’s worse, being cheated on before the wedding or having to deal with the divorce after, knowing that he was hiding another woman while he said his vows to me. Both suck but at least the first one led me here. I could lose the fire part, but the rest isn’t turning out to be that bad.
“You okay?” he asks with a chuckle.
“What? Yeah. Just thinking about what you said. My relationship with Grant seemed like the end all, be all of my life at the time, so when it imploded, it felt like the end of the world,” I say. “But it wasn’t.”
He makes a sound of agreement in the back of this throat and continues to study me. I’ve gotten used to his looks by now, but this one feels a little more penetrating.
“You came out better on the other side. Isn’t that the best revenge?” He turns down the upcoming fight so we can talk more easily.
I take that in. Am I better, really? I know I’ve changed, but it feels like my reality just split into two when the breakup happened, at least in terms of my personality. I’m not significantly better or worse.
“I don’t know if I’ve come out better. Just different. And I wasn’t trying to get revenge.”
“You aren’t the vengeful type, but still — living well is the best revenge, so it’s not like you had to do anything. And you’re less tense than before. Lighter’s the word I’m looking for.”
“Huh.” I sigh, feeling a weight come over my shoulders. “I don’t feel lighter. Sometimes it feels like I’m dragging around baggage all the time.”
“Some of the baggage is my fault, right?” He doesn’t sound like he’s saying it to show off how big of an impact he’s made on me. He’s just stating facts.
“Honestly? Yeah.” I swallow, wondering if I should go here. “I think I have trust issues.”
His eyes widen a little in shock, for some reason. Does he think that I’m totally fine with trusting people now? If so, he’s less perceptive than I thought.
“Trust issues.” The surprise is gone from his voice and is replaced by awe. Awe that I’m saying the words out loud? I don’t think I’ve ever said anything like this to him before. Or to anyone, so explicitly.
“Like with dating.” I look down at my thighs again. Now, his gaze feels a little too penetrating for my comfort.
“What will it take for you to trust again?” he asks. I can’t get past how intense his look is, or how beautiful his eyes are, to form an answer. I’m not sure how he manages to not seem creepy when he does this. If anyone else did it, I’d be running out of the room.
“What do you mean?” I finally ask.
“Trusting enough to date. Going on Tinder? Letting time pass? Seeing Grant fall down the stairs in a viral Youtube video?” His face brightens a little, but I know he’s trying to cover for the seriousness of his question.
Is he talking about us? Like what it’ll take for me to trust him again? Because if he wants an answer, I have no idea. I think I already trust him on some level but taking the leap into romantic levels of trust is like jumping off a cliff. There could be a nice body of water not far down, or there could be a bunch of jagged rocks. I don’t know and can’t know.
“I don’t know.” I change the subject. “But with friends, I’m a lot better. Krissy and I get along really well, and I trust her.”
“She’s nice,” he nods, finally looking away from me.
“Yeah. She’s not judgmental or anything.” With him looking away from me, I can look at him without worry. He looks a little dejected all of a sudden. “And we’re… buddies. The two of us.”
“Buddies?” he laughs, immediately brightening. “Like a buddy cop movie?”
“Sure, I guess.” I smile, a knot loosening in my chest.
“I call bad cop. You’re definitely good cop.”
“Deal,” I laugh. “And thank you.”
“For what? Being the bad cop to your good cop?” Sometimes when he smiles hard, he gets a dimple in his right cheek. It’s popping out right now.
“No, for all of this.” I feel my face getting hot. This is skirting into the very honest zone that makes me nervous, but I step forward anyway. “You didn’t have to try to mend all this shit we’ve been through, but you have. You’ve been really nice. And respectful of all my issues.”
That seems to take him aback a little, but not in a bad way. He just seems surprised.
“It takes two to fix some problems. I’m glad I haven’t been a stick in your ass.”
“I don’t think that’s the right phrase. You mean a thorn in my side?”
“But my version works, doesn’t it? It’s a more vivid image and more painful.”
He smirks, and what would have been a flare of annoyance in the past is now a stupid flutter in my chest.
I sigh and rest my head on the leather seat. I don’t know what to do anymore. After the situation with Grant, Mom suggested that I do some ‘soul searching’. If ‘soul searching’ means running away for years until my problems force their way back into my life, then I’ve done that. But talking with Noah like this makes me realize that I’m missing a lot of what’s going on in my own head.
All I know is that I’m falling for Noah again. I can’t deny it anymore or brush it off as a silly crush that’ll pass if I swipe a bunch on Tinder. But fully letting go to trust him is a whole other story.
Chapter Fourteen
Noah
“Yo, Egan,” James, the fire chief, says from behind me. I’m in my cubicle in the office and not expecting him, so I jump. “Office got you on edge?”
“No, you just scared the shit out of me.” I turn around. He’s in his t-shirt, work pants, and boots, his bald head shining in the low light of the office. “What’s up?”
“You want food? We got a shitload of Thai from that new place. And we miss your ass.”
He sounds lighthearted but looks hopeful. The guilt makes my gut tighten. Has it been that long since I’ve had lunch with everyone? I don’t remember the last time I had lunch that wasn’t scarfed down at my cubicle. At least I’ve been eating leftovers that Nadine leaves in the fridge instead of burritos or pizza.
“Sure, why not? It’s been a while.” I save the document I’m working on and stand up, my back cracking. I groan, my muscles pulling
like I haven’t stretched in years.
“Old man,” he teases, elbowing me in the side. “Need to get you working out with us again.”
“Jesus, I’d fucking die.” I shake my legs out. I need to stand up more often during the day. “I can’t believe I used to work out twice a day. Was I insane?”
“Yeah, well, you’re young, and you can pull that shit off. I wouldn’t even dream of doing that.”
He walks me back through the firehouse, then into the lounge. There’s a long table down the middle, and the guys on duty are attacking a row of takeout containers. When I come in, they erupt into a chorus of hellos that make me smile. The sense of emptiness without Jack doesn’t feel so harsh now, with everyone slapping me on the back and ribbing at me. It almost feels like old times.
I make myself a plate of food, taking a little of everything, and sit across from James. There are five other guys on duty, not counting James — Owen, Bo, Paul, Adam, and Henry. Owen and I started around the same time, so I know him the best, but I know the other guys well too. Except for Henry. He gives me a long look, neither friendly nor unfriendly. The last time I interacted with him, I ‘borrowed’ his mask to dart in and save Nadine. The guy just rubs me the wrong way. I hope he doesn’t ruin the vibe here since I’m already enjoying this. Just being away from my computer is a breath of fresh air.
“How’s life?” Owen asks. “You’re always ten yards away, but it feels like we hardly see you.”
“Not bad. Just busy. It’s weird only seeing you guys during emergencies.” I swirl a pad Thai noodle around my plastic fork.
“Busy’s vague,” Bo says. He’s buzzed his hair since I saw him last, and it makes his already bright blue eyes like lasers.
“Saying ‘busy’s vague’ is also vague.” I grin, knowing what he’s getting at. He never asks questions directly, which I’ve gotten used to over the years. “What do you want to know?”
“How have you been since that fire next door to you? How’s that girl?” Owen asks, leaning in to hear me.
“Yeah, we were all kinda shocked when you ran in to get her. It felt like you were investigating with us even though you weren’t on duty,” Paul comments.
“She your girlfriend?” Adam, who’s usually the silent type, adds.
“Have you guys been gossiping about me?” I gasp, half serious and half joking.
“Just curious.” James shrugs and sits back. “It’s been a minute since you’ve had a girl, and you two seemed awfully close.”
Did we? I saved her, sure, but only because I wanted to get her out as quickly as possible. I just didn’t want Henry to do it. It wasn’t a romantic thing — just reflex. I want to protect her when she lets me.
“No, she’s not my girlfriend. First of all, she’s my best friend’s little sister. And she’s also my soon-to-be stepsister.” Saying it out loud made me realize that being her stepbrother and her whatever we would end up being is a little awkward, just on its face. “My dad and her mom got engaged a couple of months ago.”
Everyone seems disappointed, the gossipy assholes.
“What, you were expecting something else?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Isn’t she packing you lunches and stuff? I see that fancy shit in the fridge,” James asks. “She puts your name on it and everything.”
I feel myself flush like a schoolgirl. She puts neatly composed meals into glass containers and labels them with my name on masking tape. Her handwriting’s the girliest I’ve ever seen, so of course James would notice. He notices everything.
“She has to label them or else I’d eat everything before I can take it to work,” I explain. “It’s not like that. She’s not leaving cute notes in there or anything.”
“Listen, I haven’t been on a date in about two years, so I want to know if anyone else is having luck in love,” Owen says, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Maybe it’ll rub off.”
“Maybe you’re unlucky in love because you have no game. The opposite of game,” Paul quips, laughing raucously. His voice echoes through the whole room. “If I needed to get a girl away from me, I’d call you up.”
Owen tosses a spare plastic knife at Paul, hitting him in the head.
“Wow, assault with a deadly weapon,” Paul teases, playing wounded.
“Please, I’d need a samurai sword to get through that thick skull.” The two guys look at each other, grinning like morons.
I really did miss this. Even without Uncle Jack, things are fine. I need to make more of an effort to be close to everyone again.
“So you didn’t grow up with her as a sister?” Henry asks after a long pause where the only sounds are eating. I shake my head. “Then she’s free real estate. Why not?”
The guys on the force and I talk about hitting on women like this and have a million times, but for some reason, it strikes a nerve when it comes from Henry. I don’t like the look in his eyes like he’s somehow going to catcall her all the way from the station to the bakery.
Or maybe I just hate him.
It's definitely that. There's no rhyme or reason behind his asshole ways. I could at least attempt to empathize with him if I knew he had problems.
And now I feel like a dick for talking about other chicks like this, casually and kind of like they’re inanimate objects.
Nadine’s definitely rubbing off on me. The other night she lectured me about this very thing when we were watching some drama she likes. We always end up taking a century to watch one episode of a show, between pausing to talk and her getting up to bake or use the bathroom or whatever. It kind of drives me crazy.
“She’s not real estate,” I shake my head firmly, trying my hardest to keep the edge out of my voice. “She’s just staying with me until she can move back into her place. Nothing’s going on.”
The guys shrug and exchange looks. Things get a little less lighthearted, and it irritates me. Thankfully, James stands up to grab more food, and there’s a little scuffle over who gets the last of the pad Thai.
“What caused the fire?” Henry asks over the skirmish. I don’t know if he’s just oblivious or a dick, because he seems unfazed by the awkward shift in the room. “How’s the case going? Any leads?”
“Still not sure. Lots of paperwork and insurance nonsense happening.” I nibble on a hunk of mystery meat. Tofu? We wouldn’t order tofu. “It’s an old house, so it might have been a wiring issue. Wouldn’t be surprised. My house’s electrical was a disaster waiting to happen before I renovated.”
“You still don’t know?” Henry gives me a look I can’t decipher. He’s curious, sure, but there’s something deeper there that unsettles me. A challenge.
“Investigations take time.” I sit back, feeling stuffed already. “We’ve got the photos and all the other evidence, but that’s all we have to go off of. Nadine got out safely, and that’s all that matters.”
“Hm.” Henry sits back too.
I don’t like his look.
I don’t like his tone, even on that one syllable grunt.
Is he insinuating that I’m not doing a good job? What the fuck does he know? And why does he even want to know in the first place? He saw Nadine that night. Does he want her? Is that why he asked about her being single? Because I won’t let him near her, not within a hundred fucking feet.
I haven’t felt this wired up since high school, in the few times when someone pushed me over the edge at a party or something. I got into a few dumb fights, but usually, they happened because I didn’t know how to handle my liquor well. I’m stone-cold sober and could reach across the table to punch the shit out of Henry. I know I’d win. The guy’s tall and in shape — all of us have to be — but I’m bigger and stronger. Back when I worked out twice a day, once at Grit and once here, we had pissing matches over who could lift more or run faster.
I always came out on top.
“Jesus, you two are like two cats about to pounce on each other,” James comments with a laugh, trying to break the tension.
“I’m just tired,” I say, which isn’t a lie. My sleep’s been shit.
Nadine is staying in my bedroom, so I’ve been on my couch. It’s comfortable, but Mabel keeps coming from the bedroom and jumping on the couch in the middle of the night once she’s done hanging on the bed. If I’m unlucky, she jumps right on my junk without a care in the world. She did that last night, and it woke me from a dead sleep. I’ve been too scared to pass out unless I’m sleeping on my stomach, which I hate doing.
“How are your kids, James?” I ask, trying to grab the good vibes back and push the attention away from me.
James is a great dad, and if given the opportunity, will never shut up about his four kids — two sets of twins, two years apart. Thankfully he takes my bait and runs with it, showing off Myra, the oldest in the older set of twins, and her award-winning science project. Lunch is interrupted by a call, and all the guys drop everything to go answer it. I’m not needed, so I clean everything up and put the leftovers away.
Even though Henry’s out of my space, I’m still bubbling with anger. But why? How does he get under my skin so easily? I’m not easily stirred. My irritation with him makes me turn my attention away from the other things I need to do, like go over my notes for a test all of us need to take to keep our skills sharp and focus on the case files for Nadine’s house.
It looks like an electrical fire, so far. Shitty luck. She’s had a lot of that, on top of her ‘trust issues’, as she called them last night. I’m surprised she even spoke up about it so explicitly. She’s loosening up around me. My rage is tamped down when I think about our conversation. I never would have thought we’d ever be friends, but I really like having her around.
Shit. Maybe that’s why Henry got under my skin today. Nadine’s already been through enough. She doesn’t need some asshole creep infringing on her privacy to throw her off. I hate the way he talked about her.
One Night Flame Page 21
