Chapter 3
Liv
The station smells even more like burnt coffee, antiseptic, and old gym socks than normal. Home sweet home.
I push through the bay doors just as the end-of-shift crew is dragging themselves back in from a call that left them looking like a lineup for a zombie movie. Which, considering how the overnight shift can get, tracks.
“Look who’s back,” a voice calls.
I glance over and see Alice perched on the edge of the counter in the kitchenette, jacket half-zipped, and hair in a messy bun that still somehow looks intentional even though the tiredness in her eyes tells me it isn’t.
Still, she grins at me like she hasn’t just worked the kind of shift we all know too well and dread.
“Don’t start,” I mutter, tossing my jacket into my locker. “I earned my laundry day off yesterday.”
“You always say that,” she shoots back. “And yet, here you are. In the same uniform as always.”
Her eyes drift over to Jett as he walks in, grabs a donut, and takes a seat at the table nearby.
“You had a fun night the other day,” Jett smirks, speaking around a bite of donut.
“No kidding. It’s not often the emergencies come to the medics.” I lean against the counter, the handle of a drawer jamming into my backside until I shift a few inches closer to Alice to find relief.
She’s blissfully looking off into an imaginary sunset. “That detective was hot. Like really, really hot. The muscles in his arm…” She knocks my shoulder with her hand.
“Oh, believe me, I noticed,” I start but Jett starts laughing.
“Alice, why are you looking at cops?”
She rolls her eyes. “Because I’m not blind.”
Jett lets out a hard laugh, smacking the table.
“What’s so funny?” Scott asks, walking up.
“Alice is just reminding us that her eyes work.” I wave my hand dismissively.
Scott slides up next to me, grabbing a donut out of the box then plopping down in the seat next to Jett. “I heard you had an exciting night the other day.” He gives me a knowing smirk.
“Oh, you mean when Jett and Alice came to visit my neighborhood?” I sigh, leaning to my side and laying my head on Alice’s shoulder. “What’d you think of the area, Al?”
“Nice streetlights,” she says, patting my hair. “Could do without the blood in the street though.”
“Yeah, well, the neighbors are trying something new.”
Scott puts his face in his hands and groans.
“Hey,” Alice says casually, like she’s asking about the weather. “So…”
I don’t look up. “So?”
“So,” she repeats, drawing out the syllable. “I didn’t get to tell you the other night because you ran off back to your apartment before I could corner you, but I have news.”
“That tone concerns me.” My eyes open but I don’t move. I see Jett and Scott both looking now, Scott curiously and Jett knowingly.
“It should.”
I finally stand back up, looking at her. She’s grinning.
Oh no. “What did you do?” I ask.
“I didn’t do anything,” she assures, which feels like a lie. “I simply… met someone.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Wow. Supportive.”
“You have terrible taste in men,” I point out. “Statistically speaking.”
“Thank you!” Jett chimes in. I get the feeling he already knew about this and was hoping for someone to back him up.
Alice gasps. “You don’t even know who it is!”
“I don’t need to. You’re attracted to chaos.”
“If I remember correctly, that’s the exact reason you got partnered with Jett,” Scott points out.
“He’s right,” Jett agrees, eyeing up Alice in that intense way he always does but she never notices. The whole damn station knows it; pretty sure Alice is the only one who doesn’t.
“That means less coming from the woman who lives in a crime hotspot by choice,” Alice rolls her eyes, still not noticing the yearning in Jett’s eyes. He gives a momentary look to Scott who looks mournfully back at him.
Maybe someday Jett, but not today apparently.
I nudge Alice’s shoulder. “Rent is cheap.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
I shake my head, grabbing one of the disposable coffee cups and pouring some of the crappy station coffee in it. It’s better than running with minimal caffeine. “Fine, tell us about him.”
Her grin turns borderline smug. “He’s a firefighter.”
I stare at her. “You’re kidding.”
“I am not.”
“That’s the most cliché thing I’ve ever heard,” I grumble.
“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 left divots 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.
I decide to just go with the easy answer. “I’m fine,” I give in finally.
He doesn’t believe it, but he also doesn’t fight me on it. “Alright, but if you start spiraling, I’m staging an intervention.”
“Please don’t.”
“No promises.”
That’s fair; I’d do the same for him if our roles were reversed.