Chapter 11
MILES
London Tennison is asleep in my damn bed.
A feisty firefighting brunette version of Goldilocks. I’m not mad about it. It should be weird. I should have taken her home.
So many should-haves.
I’ll push them aside with all the don’ts and can’ts I’ve been reeling through since I left my apartment. I can’t get involved with London. I don’t need the distraction. I can’t put her probationary period in jeopardy by getting involved. I can’t . . .
Get her out of my damn head.
My body.
My dreams.
“Your girl snores, bud.” Laws flops on the sofa.
I tamp back a chuckle.
Nope. Not my girl.
Fucking hell, Rawlins, not helping.
I pack the few groceries away in the fridge. “Leave her be. She’s exhausted.”
“She looks comfortable in your big bed, Milo. Just sayin’.”
Course he is.
Meddling motherfucker.
How many times did he go through the same shit with Carlie? Workplace relationships are already complicated, and when you deal in life-and-death on a daily basis, it’s more so.
“Ha—Miles . . . sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”
The soft voice has both of us turn.
When London’s gaze finds Lawson she straightens. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”
She clutches her bag to her chest. Petal is right behind her, rubbing against her legs like a cat.
Laws stands, closing the distance between them. “Hi, you must be London. Lawson, Milo’s best friend.”
He holds out a hand.
London glances at me before taking Lawson’s hand. “Didn’t know Cap had friends. Nice to meet you.”
Laws chuckles. “I like her already.”
London smiles at him, that big sunshine grin I rarely see. The one she seems to reserve for others.
Not her boss.
It’s something her friends are privy to.
“Well, the pup loves you, at any rate.” Laws squats and rubs Petal’s head.
“Actually, they knew each other before we did,” I offer, feeling like the third, no, fourth wheel.
“Is that right?” Lawson looks up at London.
“Sure is. I worked at the shelter where Petal was homed before . . .” She swings her gaze my way.
My gut flips, my body tensing in a way that has me wanting to close the distance between us.
Laws looks between us and pops to his feet. “You know what, I should be going. Carlie will be wanting to take Mills to the shit and glitter shop. They could use a lift for their retail therapy.”
London raises her brows. “Sounds like quite the expedition.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Laws sees himself out, leaving London and me standing in the first parcel of awkwardness since last night.
“I should . . .” She points at the door. “Sorry about sleeping in your bed and all. It was so soft . . .”
I swallow, and the rock in my throat almost chokes out my last breath. She makes for the door.
My feet move before I have a chance to think this through.
I grip the door handle. “Stay a while?” I rasp out.
She looks up at me, those deep brown eyes studying my own. “I really should go home.”
I can only nod, opening the door as I step back and out of her way.
Fuck.
She crosses the threshold, her phone in her hand.
Should I offer to take her home?
Would that be more weird? More like a hookup. Which this absolutely was not.
I was looking out for her. For my crew.
I clear my throat and force a platonic smile on my face.
“See you on shift, Cap.”
I open my mouth to respond, and nothing forms. Saving me the embarrassment, she closes the door and disappears from my apartment, only leaving her scent and my racing heart in her wake.
This man is fucked.
Well and truly gone down with the ship.
Schmiddy pulls the rowing machine at a slow, steady pace as his focus stays stuck on London’s ass as she runs on the treadmill. I push the bar up over me from the flat bench one more time.
One more rep before I roll of this piece of gym equipment and string Schmiddy up by his fucking balls for ogling his subordinate.
London dips her head, her hands landing on her hips as she huffs through another mile of her run. Sweat beads, running over her collarbones before disappearing between her—
Fuck.
I’m no better than Schmiddy.
I press the bar up again.
My arms burn, my chest heaving with the exertion.
“Shit!” London jumps off the machine and paces a small circle.
She gasps for breath, swallowing.
Schmiddy’s up off the rowing machine before the next heartbeat falls. “I got you, sweetheart.”
Bile rises as his hand sweeps her hair from her neck.
She slaps him away. “Don’t fucking call me sweetheart.”
My brows track toward my hairline as she closes the space between them. Schmiddy grins, still unaware he’s about to get his ass handed to him. Idiot. Sleazy, ignorant idiot.
London’s eyes narrow. “Touch me again and I will have you pinned to the floor by your balls.” She glares at him, her finger pointing to the floor.
And damn, you have to believe the woman with that much fire. Nothing like the soft, polite London who was in my apartment a few days ago, cuddled up to Petal on my bed.
My body comes alive at the thought.
Schmiddy walks out in a huff, spouting threats of reporting her to HR, and I track my gaze to London.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine. God, that man is a total ass.”
“Not going to lie, he’s a piece of work. Let’s hope he doesn’t end up ca—”
“Which makes you captain.” She folds her arms, raising a brow.
Yeah, so I may be little biased. But hell, the man would be a disaster for any department.
“I meant to thank you,” London says quietly, her face softening.
“For not wishing Schmiddy well?”
“No, Miles. For the other night.”
Oh.
I rub a hand behind my neck, dropping my focus to the floor. “Don’t mention it. I’d do the same for any of my crew.”
As my words register I see something akin to a light fading in her eyes. Or is that just what I want to see?
Dammit.
This is why we don’t cross this line.
It’s there for a very, very good reason.
The last thing I need is to be second-guessing, well, anything.
“Right,” she says softly, grabbing her towel and wiping her neck and chest to soak up the sweat from her run.
How badly do I wish we were anywhere else right now. In any other job, together. Laws never had life-and-death as a con on his list of things he had to weigh up when it came to Carlie.
I’m almost envious of him.
But this is my life’s work. The thing that makes me whole. Makes me who I am.
“How’s Petal doing?” she asks, and I’m grateful for the change of subject.
“She’s good.” I sit on the end of the work bench and look up into brown eyes busy searching every inch of my face. “Could use some girl time, again. Been nagging me about it for days. You’ve spoiled her.”
London smiles. “I can do that.”
That’s all it takes for this stupid big heart of mine to swell with hope. Even in the face of the fact I can’t, I won’t, act on this thing that could very well be wholly one-sided.
“I’ll tell her. You’ll make her day, Tennison.”
“London. You can call me London. I mean, when you can.”
I nod, elbows on my thighs, a sweat towel between my hands. My chest is heaving, and I’m not exerting a single muscle.
“I can do that.” I send her words back.
Just like that, Miles and London are friends . . . I think.
Oh great, now I’m referring to myself in the third person. Wait ’til the guys get a wind of that one.
Sandy reverses the engine into the house, and we peel out of the cab, shucking our turnouts in silence.
Nobody spoke on the way home, either. The distraught faces of the probies say everything.
The stone facades Sandy, Heids, and me have in place hide the effects, but they’re just as real for us.
We have simply learned to compartmentalize them better.
We lost a fellow firefighter today. 41’s command, Kirwan. Only three years away from retirement. And we watched the entire thing unfold. Schmiddy, of course, was captain this shift, and he was lax in about every facet of his job.
Minutes lost that would no doubt have cost Kirwan. But it will be up to internal investigation, if it comes to that. Free of my turnouts, I toss my helmet into the overhead rack.
“Fuck.”
Heids sniffs, swallowing. After five years over at 41, this will be way too close to home for her. Sandy wraps himself around her from behind, dropping his head. Her face breaks. His arms slide around her, holding tight as she buckles.
Schmiddy waltzes through the engine bay as if nothing happened. “Get a room you two, or better still, cut that shit out. It’s against the reg—”
I have my forearm against his throat before I realize I’ve moved. His back slams against the wall, rattling the equipment in the lockers to my right.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I growl.
In my peripheral, I see Heids straighten as Sandy releases her. She marches to where I hold Schmiddy. “Don’t waste your captaincy on this piece of shit, Milo.”
I give her a long look, silently asking if she’s sure.
“Let him go.”
I lean back, dropping my arm. Heids turns and makes to leave.
Schmiddy huffs a laugh. “Slow gets you dead. Kirby should have remembered that.”
In a flurry of movement, Heids sends a fist into Schmiddy’s face.
He tumbles sideways and then to the floor, blood running down his face from his nose. His hand grapples at the source of the flow. “You little bitch.”
Heids takes two steps until she’s all but standing over him. “I’d say you’re the little bitch right now, you waste of fucking space.”
As much as Schmiddy had it coming, and I’m only sorry I didn’t have the chance to take this asshole down, I can’t condone this behavior. Infighting won’t be tolerated.
And I’m a damn hypocrite. With a ragged breath, flicking my gaze Heids’s way, I frown.
She waves a hand. “Yeah, I know. In your office.”
“You’re out, Owens. You’re done!” Schmiddy calls from the floor before he staggers to his feet.
“Davies, Tennison. Quarters, now.”
“Yes sir.” They drop their heads and hurry up the stairs.
Fuck. Some example I am.
I round the engine and tug the back door open and hike it to the watchtower. A heartbeat later, I’m standing at the top.
Heidi’s face as the weight of losing a man who was like a father to her at 41 flashes through my mind. She had a rough start when she joined the ranks. Similar to London’s. Underestimated because she’s a woman.
And Sandy, who knew she was about to fall apart . . .
The tortured look on both their faces. Like her pain hurts Sandy as much as it does her.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“F . . . UCK!” I slam a fist into the weathered wooden box that houses the old alarm system. The rusted metal bells inside it whine with a twisted sounding clang. I send my other fist into it, breaking up the greyed wood like it’s as fragile as I feel right now.
The closest I have ever felt something like what Heidi and Sandy have is . . . well, I’ve never felt that way. But I’ve been holding out for something so strong, so innate without being hard. Something, someone, who just fits. Irrevocably so.
An hour later, I sigh and start my way down the stairs. By the time I reach the bottom, I come to the realization that in my line of work, something so ethereal would be a mistake. This life of mine is a risk.
It’s as fragile as that box I just annihilated.
Any callout could be my last.
Laws’s words find me. I can hear him telling me how much my service means to him and others. But the fact remains, my friends worry that every burning building I run into may be my last.
A knot winds tight in my gut. I can’t find my way to anything else for me in this life.
When I step off the last tread of the watchtower, I round the tall building to find London sitting on a pile of old hoses. She looks up when I stop in my tracks.
“I thought I sent you to your quarters.”
She stands, her brows dropping. “You did.”
I tilt my head, as if to ask well, why are you here?
She pushes up a soft, sad smile. “I thought you could use a friend.”
I grind my molars, tamping back a swell of emotion.
Nobody has ever been there, simply been there for me before. Laws, of course, is my go-to friend. However, he doesn’t live this life. It’s hard to understand the choices we make if you don’t live it yourself.
My nostrils flare.
My chest caves.
“Oh, Cap.”
London is wrapped around me a heartbeat later.
I haul in a breath as my vision blurs, and I sink my face into her hair, which I realize all too late was a mistake. The next breath is lined with her fragrance, still discernible beneath the smoke and dust.
I could unravel entirely with this reverent woman.