Chapter 14 #2
It’s not really a question even though I’m sure I could say “no.”
I don’t really want to though. I won’t hesitate at an excuse to be pressed up against this man. And no amount of awkwardness about the setting will change that.
The dance floor feels like a different world, set apart from the noise and movement of the rest of the room. Everything is slower here; the music, the conversations, and even my breathing as his hand settles at my waist and mine finds his shoulder.
We move carefully at first, like we’re both aware of how close we are and what that closeness means.
“I don’t belong here,” I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His thumb shifts slightly against my side, a small, grounding motion. “Neither do I.”
I glance up at him skeptically. “That’s a lie.”
“It’s not.”
“This is your world.”
His gaze fixates on mine, something distant flickering in his expression. “It’s my father’s,” he says. “Not mine.”
I guess he’s right after all; he was adopted into this. The world he chose is the one where he hunts down bad people and puts them away.
This is his world as much as making mac and cheese alone in my foster home is mine.
“The fanciness isn’t my thing. I’d rather be anywhere else,” he adds after a moment.
“Even now?” I ask.
His hand tightens just slightly at my waist. “Not this time. This is the only place I want to be.”
My breath stutters, and for a second, the rest of the room fades away entirely.
“I keep thinking about that night,” he admits quietly.
“The crash?”
He nods. “You ran toward it.”
“That’s my job.”
“So is mine.”
I tilt my head slightly. “You don’t run towards mangled vehicles.”
A flicker of something crosses his face, something darker. “No,” he says. “I run toward what caused them.”
A chill moves through me, but I don’t pull away. Because I understand that now, in a way I didn’t before.
A photographer wanders nearby, taking pictures of random guests. Alex angles us out of view of the camera.
One of my brows tips up. “What’s that about? Don’t tell me you’re camera shy.”
“I’m not,” he says stiffly.
“Then are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”
“My boss just… doesn’t necessarily want me getting distracted while we’re working on this case.”
His boss doesn’t want him… Oh. “He thinks we’re…” Are we? Dating, or anything. I shift the focus, not wanting to get into the “what are we?” conversation yet. “Am I distracting, Alex?” I put on a coy smile.
He doesn’t have time to respond.
The song ends as his father approaches the mic set up by the band.
I recognize him from media put out by his company.
While his face is recognizable, he’s taller than I expected, even taller than Alex.
I suddenly realize that I’ve only seen Arthur Thornton fully in solo pictures and videos, never standing next to someone else.
When he begins to speak, the shift in the room is immediate. Conversations quiet, attention turns, and I feel Alex’s posture change beside me, subtle but noticeable. I wonder if he knows he did that.
He speaks about the city, about responsibility, and about progress. As the speech builds, I feel a knot tightening in my chest. And when the focus turns to EMS, to the crash, and to the people who were there…
“No,” I whisper under my breath. I know what’s coming.
Alex’s hand tightens at my back. “I’ve got you.”
All eyes turn as a spotlight shifts to illuminate us, and suddenly the room feels too bright and too open.
“We gather tonight to celebrate not just our company's achievements, but the heroes who walk among us every day,” Arthur Thornton begins, his voice resonating through the now-silent ballroom.
“In our city, there are those who face challenges most of us can barely imagine.
They don't seek recognition. They don't ask for praise. They simply answer the call when duty summons them.”
He pauses, letting his words settle over the room. I can feel Alex beside me, his body tense in a way that tells me he knows exactly where this is going.
“Two weeks ago, tragedy struck on the interstate. A multi-vehicle collision that tested the limits of our emergency response systems. In that moment of chaos, when most would turn away, some ran forward.”
My heart pounds against my ribs as his eyes sweep the room, finally landing on us.
“They run toward danger,” his father says, his voice steady and sure. “When the rest of us would run away, they run into the smoke, the wreckage, and the uncertainty. They run toward the very things that would make others flee.”
Arthur raises his glass slightly. “Among those heroes was Olivia Carter, one of the paramedics who responded to that scene, whose quick thinking and skilled care aided in the protection of endangered lives that day.”
The spotlight shifts to illuminate us, and suddenly the room feels too bright and too open. Pride and discomfort war in my mind in a way that I don't know how to separate.
“These are the people who make our city what it is,” Arthur continues. “Not just in moments of crisis, but every single day. They embody courage, compassion, and commitment. They remind us that heroism isn't about capes and headlines, it's about showing up when it matters most.”
My throat closes because all I can think of is that I didn't run fast enough. I know I couldn't have; I wasn't there and Brian's mom said he passed instantly. But I'm trained to do something, and I couldn't do anything at that moment.
“So tonight, let us raise our glasses to the first responders, the paramedics, the firefighters, and the ordinary citizens who become extraordinary when faced with adversity. Let us honor their service and remember their sacrifice.”
The room erupts in applause as glasses raise throughout the ballroom. But Alex stays there, solid and unmoving beside me, his presence as a quiet anchor in the middle of everything.
Later, as the attention fades and the crowd shifts back into motion, I catch his father watching us from across the room. Not casually, but intentionally. There’s something knowing in his expression, and something else, too. Something that looks a lot like concern.
I glance back at Alex as he sips his glass of champagne. “He knows about me, doesn’t he?”
He pauses, which tells me the answer before he says, “yes. Of course he does.”
“And?” I press.
Alex hesitates, just for a second. “He likes you already.”
My breath catches in my throat. “That sounds like a problem.”
His gaze meets mine, steady and unreadable. “It might be.”
The music continues around us, the lights still glittering overhead, the night carrying on like nothing outside these walls could touch it.
But beneath it all, I can feel it. That quiet, persistent tension.
Because no matter how beautiful this moment is…
it isn’t separate from everything else. It’s just a pause.
And sooner or later, the world we came from is going to find us again.