Chapter 14
Liv
I don’t really leave my apartment for two days. Not in any way that counts at least. I go to work because I have to. And it keeps me busy. Then I come home because there’s nowhere else to go. Nowhere feels safe.
Everything in between blurs together into something dull and gray, like my brain has decided to sand down the edges of the world so I don’t feel more than I have to. I’m kind of thankful for it.
The news keeps running updates about the investigation and the girl they found, but I never let it play long enough to hear the details. I don’t need to. I already know too much. I already know what she looks like.
Close enough to me that it makes me feel cold and uncomfortable when I look in the mirror.
By the third evening, the silence in my apartment starts to feel too heavy.
Pip curls against my side on the couch, warm and steady, but even that doesn’t quite anchor me like it normally does.
My thoughts keep circling back to the highway, funeral, and to Alex’s voice telling me the newest victim looks like me.
And knowing that I have the next two days off work makes it worse. I’ll be alone with my thoughts for two long. I’m utterly certain I’ll end up at the station anyway. Just for something to do.
So, when the knock comes at the door just after sunset, it feels less like a surprise and more like inevitability.
I open it and there he is.
Alex looks… worn. Not just tired, not just overworked but like there’s something heavier in the way he holds himself, like the last few days have been pressing down on him and haven’t let up.
His eyes sweep over me with a quick assessment the second the door opens, like he’s checking for something.
Like he needs to confirm that I’m still intact.
“You look like hell,” I say quietly.
The corner of his mouth lifts at my brashness, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So do you.”
Fair.
For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us feels charged in that familiar yet dangerous way, like we’re both thinking about what happened the last time he was here but we’re both trying not to think about it.
Then he lifts an envelope. “An invitation,” he says.
I stare at it for a second before taking it from his hand. The paper feels thick and expensive, like the kind of thing that feels out of place in my apartment before I even open it. When I do, the elegant script inside confirms exactly what I was expecting and somehow still wasn’t prepared for.
I read it quickly. “A gala,” I say, glancing up at him. “You’re kidding.”
“No.”
I let out a quiet breath, running my thumb along the edge of the card. “This feels… wildly out of place right now.”
“It is,” he agrees, without hesitation. That almost makes it worse.
I look back down at the invitation, then up at him again. “Why?” I mean, asking me on a date is one thing, but this is… not as out of hand as it should be considering who his father is. But it still feels like a big jump.
“My father is donating a new dispatch system to the city,” he says. “So, he’s hosting a gala to celebrate it and recognize EMS crews. He wants to honor the ones involved in the crash as well.”
The words land heavier than I expect. Recognition and honor, things that feel undeserved in a way I can’t articulate, especially in a time of mourning.
“I don’t think I’m the right person for that,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I wasn’t even there when it happened.”
“You were there after,” he counters immediately. “You showed up and stayed. You dropped everything when you were needed. That counts.”
I shake my head, the memory of flashing lights and twisted metal making bile rise too easily. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
His expression softens, just slightly. “I know.”
Silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable but heavy with everything we’re both not saying. Then, more quietly, he adds, “I thought you might need a night that isn’t… this.”
Something in my ribs shifts at that. Because that’s not obligation; it’s not an investigation. It’s him.
“I don’t belong at something like that,” I say.
His gaze holds mine, steady and certain. “Then I’ll stand next to you the whole time.”
My breath catches despite myself. Not because of his words but because of how simply he says them. Like it’s not even a question.
Besides, something tells me he wasn’t going to leave my side anyway.
And just like that, I realize I’m already going to say “yes.”
I think I was going to the whole time, I just needed to convince myself.
I get help from Alice the next day with picking a dress and figuring out how to do my hair with it.
Despite my nerves and her encouragement, the night of the gala rolls around.
It’s been nearly a week since he invited me to this but I’m still ridiculously nervous.
I thought I’d calm down about it in that timeframe but instead, it just got worse.
Now I’m getting ready and it feels like stepping into someone else’s life. I’ve never been to anything this fancy and elegant and I’m not even sure what level of fancy to expect. My nerves, and expectations, are just built off of the look and feel of the invitation.
The dress hangs differently than anything else I own. The fabric is soft and fluid where my usual clothes are practical and fitted. It slides over my skin in a way that feels unfamiliar, almost disorienting. And when I look at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back.
She doesn’t look like someone who kneels on asphalt or works around the metallic scent of blood and smoke. She doesn’t look like someone who stood on the side of a highway eleven nights ago, watching a gurney covered in a sheet.
She looks… untouched. The thought sits wrong in my chest.
I smooth my hands down the fabric, grounding myself in the motion. It’s a kind of armor, I realize, just a different kind. A lighter and softer kind, but still, something I’m putting on to face the world.
Even now, I can feel the phantom weight of my gear, the memory of a med bag slung over my shoulder is too settled in my muscles. That version of me hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s just hidden under silk instead of a uniform.
When the knock comes at the door, I take one last breath before opening it.
Alex is already there, dressed in a suit that fits him like it was made for him. Sharp lines, dark fabric, and effortless in a way that makes my stomach tighten for reasons I don’t want to elaborate too closely before we’ve even gotten out the door.
His eyes lift to mine and stop. For a second, he just looks at me. Really looks. His jaw goes slack, just slightly, like he didn’t expect this. Like he didn’t expect me like this.
And I feel it, the shift. Not just attraction, though that’s definitely there, undeniable, and immediate. But something deeper, like awe maybe. And something softer too, threaded through it. Something that looks a lot like concern.
Like he remembers exactly where I was just a few nights ago.
“You clean up nice,” I say, barely able to keep my voice from cracking. Because I need to break the moment before it becomes something I can’t step away from. Or I lose control and spontaneously kiss him again.
He exhales, slow and controlled, like he’s pulling himself back together. “So do you.” His voice is rougher than usual, and suddenly I’m very aware of the space between us, and how much I want to make that space disappear.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say too strongly.
I’m not surprised to see the car outside since he’d texted me the other day that he’d have a car pick us up. Neither of our outfits would survive on his bike tonight anyway.
However, I was surprised to see he had a driver. “Dad offered. And it gives me the option to have a drink or two tonight,” he’d explained casually.
Sure, he just casually has a driver. I’m so out of my league here.
Sitting in the back of the vehicle beside him while he explains what to expect out of the night while a stranger drives us to the edge of town like I’m in an expensive taxi was… different. Made me feel like some kind of princess or diplomat. Not a regular city paramedic.
And then the surprise continues as we pull up in front of the manor. It’s overwhelming in the way only places like this can be.
We’re dropped off at the main door of what looks like a ballroom. Two story tall white stone pillars rise above up to the roof. Behind them are large windows showing the ballroom within.
As we step inside, the full scenery comes into view.
Light spills from crystal chandeliers, catching on polished surfaces and turning everything into something just slightly unreal.
Music drifts through the air. It’s soft, controlled, and perfectly measured.
The hum of conversation blends into a constant background murmur.
Glasses clink, laughter rises and falls, and everywhere I look, people move with an ease I don’t feel.
I’m just hyper-aware of everything; the way my heels sound against the floor, the way my dress shifts when I walk, the way people glance at me and then do a second take.
I feel like I don’t belong here.
“You okay?” Alex murmurs beside me, his voice low enough that it doesn’t carry.
“No,” I admit.
Honesty feels easier than pretending right now.
His hand settles lightly at the small of my back, not possessive or demanding, just there. A steady point of contact that keeps me from drifting too far into my own head.
“You’re doing fine,” he says.
“I feel like I’m going to break something.”
“You won’t.”
“You sound very confident about that.”
“I am.”
I glance up at him. “Why?”
His gaze meets mine, unwavering, and locks onto me. “Because you’re not the type to break under pressure.”
That settling somewhere beneath the surface where everything has been fragile lately. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that.
Before I can respond, the music shifts to something slower and softer, drawing people toward the dance floor.
“Dance with me,” he says.