Chapter 12
LONDON
We could use a walk.
I could use a walk.
Petal trots beside me, her puppy daddy catching up on some well-deserved rest. After that disaster of a callout with Heidi’s old Cap lost, Miles spent hours in meetings, over the punch to the face Schmiddy absolutely deserved and the report about the incident that led to Kirwan’s death.
Schmiddy was calling his own shots, not cooperating with 41.
Shots that were lax and careless.
We all know it.
41 tried to argue them. They lost the argument, and Kirwan lost his life.
A huge reminder of what is at stake on every callout.
Tears prickle behind my eyes as I close in on the park bench alighted with my very best friend. Who I need so badly right now.
“Babes! Oh you two look just darling.” Kelvin stands before squatting to greet Petal.
“Hey, Kels.”
He stands.
“Oh honey, what the hell happened?” His face scrunches with concern.
I huff a breath that sets my lungs on fire.
Fuck.
I’m manhandled to the bench, and we sit. Kels folds me into a hug that swishes with every movement of his tracksuit set. It’s almost enough to make me laugh. This eccentric, gorgeous friend of mine.
He holds me at arm’s length. “You remember we had this conversation, right? At any time you want to bug out of this job, just do it. Nobody will think less of you. I promise.”
I look up, hoping the tears welling will dissipate.
“I can’t.”
I’m invested now.
I can’t let any of my crew go in there without me. I want to be there to make sure I have their backs.
I can’t let Davey go in there without me.
I just can’t.
Wow. It hits me how far we’ve come.
“I’m fine. Really. It’s an emotional learning curve, I guess.”
Kels tilts his head, giving me that empathetic, oh my god girl look of his. “Stop it,” he utters. “You don’t owe anyone anything; you’ve been through enough for ten lifetimes.”
I can do hard things.
“And that’s exactly why I’m still here. I’m still here. I can do this. If I can live through that, I can do this.”
His face twists. “I know you can, honey. Never had a doubt.”
I huff a strained laugh. “Good, now that’s sorted. Look at our sweet girl, Kel. She’s thriving.”
He runs a hand along Petal’s coat, his mouth tipping up in a smile that has more emotion than anything I’ve seen before. “She absolutely is. The big buff fireman is good for her.”
He’s staring at me like the sentence has a double meaning.
“He’s doing okay, I guess.”
“Just okay, babe?”
“We are talking about Petal, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Petal, baby, how do you feel about the spunky fireman?”
He rubs her up, loving on her like he’s her daddy.
Oh god.
The thoughts of Miles being Petal’s daddy, which only now occurred to me, has my cheeks heating.
I chuckle, trying to tamp the flare of heat down. Kel raises one manicured brow at me.
“Girl, if you don’t fill me in on the tea between you and Mr. Fireman, I swear to god . . .”
“Nothing to tell, Kels.”
He pulls a face that I know means he doesn’t believe me.
“Well, since you’re avoiding the topic, we should take her home. Her fire daddy will be missing her.”
“He’s sleeping, Kels. Leave him be.”
“Oh, I see how it is. Not yours, but not anyone else’s, either.”
I know he’s teasing me, but it feels heavy in a way I can’t describe.
I stand, gathering up the leash. “See you for the weekend?”
“Sure thing. You bringing anyone?” He looks hopeful again. The fool.
“Nope. Just me.”
Kel rolls his eyes. “You are the most boring person I love, you know that, right?”
I laugh. “Glad to be of service. Someone has to keep you grounded.”
“Bored, more like it. See you later, honey.”
“Bye.”
Petal and I do three laps of the park before I walk her across the road to Miles’s apartment building.
When I walk the few flights of stairs to the apartment, I use the spare key he gave me to let us in and pad to the kitchenette to pour Petal some fresh water. She trots around, sniffing the place like she’s looking for something nobody else knows about.
“Here, girl,” I say softly.
Bending down to place the dish on the floor, I notice the bedroom door is half open. Petal pads over, lapping up the water. I’m halfway across the living space before I realize I’ve moved.
Stopping, I run a hand over my parted lips.
Miles lays sprawled out over his bed, his legs tangled in the sheet that stops just over his hips. His arms are above his head as his chest rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm.
He looks so peaceful.
So—
Something warm and wet nudges my knee. I look down to find Petal’s wet nose, her muzzle dripping with water. I rub her head before walking back to the couch. I sit and pat the seat beside me. “Here, girl.”
She jumps up and settles on my lap.
“Sorry, baby, I can’t stay.” I shift her to the couch.
She whines, dropping her head.
“I know, kiddo. I’ll be back in a few days. You’ll be okay with your daddy.”
Um . . . okay. This is getting a little too—
“Hey,” a gruff voice says.
I look up to find Miles at the end of the couch, bare chested, a hand running through his messed-up bed hair.
“Oh hey, I was just saying goodbye. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“Nah, couldn’t sleep, anyway.”
His hands hang by his sides.
“Oh, sorry.”
Why am I saying sorry?
Why am I . . . out of breath?
I swallow and stand.
“London, I—”
“Yeah, nah, I should really head home. Mom will be wondering where I am.”
Not really.
But I can’t think of a better excuse to extract myself from his space before I do something stupid, like press my palm to his chest. Slide my hand around his neck and weave my hand through that messy dark blond hair of his.
My gaze drops to his mouth.
Fuck.
“See you at work,” I utter.
“Sure.”
I’m out the door before my hormones can destroy my damn career.
Dammit.
Ten minutes later, I push through our front door. It feels like I’m hardly ever here. Hardly ever spending time with Mama. And guilt wraps its oily grip around my heart and squeezes tight when I see her sitting on the couch, watching her favorite daytime television by herself.
I make a beeline for the pantry and find some snacks. Popcorn, which I shove in the microwave, some mixed nuts. Plucking out the bowl of fruit from the fridge, I prepare sliced portions of apple and orange and some watermelon.
When I have a platter, I make my way to the couch and drop by her side.
“Oh, hello my love. You’ve been busy, yeah?” she says.
“Yeah, busy bee, but I’m here now.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulders and tugs me closer. I pop the tray of goodies on my lap, and we snuggle, binge-watching the programs she loves.
“We lost a firefighter, Mama.”
She turns to me, face pinched with worry and heartache.
“He was from another engine, but it was still horrible.”
“Oh, my love.” She hauls me into her hold.
“I’m okay . . . some of my crew, they—”
Throat thickening by the second, I guess the first loss will be the hardest. This year is going to be a long list of firsts. Not all of them will be pleasant. I close my eyes and moan through a sigh.
“Hush now, bubba.”
I huff a laugh at her baby name for me.
I will always be her bubba.
She will always be my mama.
We’ve been through too much to ever let go of what we have together.
“Where’s Hammond?” I ask Davey as he sends the polish rag around the chrome fender on 53 again. Our beloved engine is outside in the driveway, under the city’s many, many night lights. Davey jerks his head up.
Up.
In the hoses.
I climb up the side of the engine, stepping over the top edge. Sure enough, Hammond lies on the hoses, attention stuck on the stars overhead.
“Want some company?” I offer.
Miles turns his gaze to find mine as I give up a smile, and he breathes, “Sure, probie.”
I tamp back the chuckle at the nickname and lie down beside him. The hoses are somewhat soft but bulky under my sore muscles.
“Come here often?” I ask, biting back a smile.
Miles chuckles. “Yeah, I do, actually.”
“Of course you do, Cap.”
He rolls over, propping his head up on his hand, elbow sinking into the hoses.
“You see the shrink after last week?” His blue eyes study my face.
I keep my eyes on the stars. “Yeah, you?”
“Mandatory, remember.”
“Why’d you ask, then?” I frown, and he smiles.
“Just making conversation, London.”
“Ha! Some topic you picked.”
“What do you want to talk about, then?”
The mirth fades from my face as I swallow past the stone wedged in my airway. “I dunno.”
Miles runs his gaze over my face before it falters and snaps away.
“You can report Schmiddy if you need to, you know that, right?” he says softly.
“He’s harmless. Besides, I think Owens sorted him out proper.”
Miles chuckles. “Yeah, that’ll keep him in line for a while at least.”
“You think he’ll do something else?”
“We didn’t end up with him here by accident.”
He followed Owens here? Or he had nowhere else to go? What was it?
Do I really want to know?
“Oh.” I push up onto my elbow now, mirroring his position. “Do him and Heidi have history or something?”
“You could say that. If it wasn’t for Kirby encouraging her to transfer to 53, who knows what shit he would have got away with. If you haven’t noticed, the department is a bit of a boys’ club. Shit like that gets overlooked all the time. It’s one of the areas I want to fix if I make captain.”
“When. Not if.”
He smiles, and his gaze softens further.
He’s . . . so close. His angles under the blanket of city lights and the few stars still visible, his jaw, his eyes, they’re—I could just . . .
I’m—
“Tenny! Get your ass down here and help me. These knobs aren’t going to polish themselves.” Davey’s voice is lit with mirth.
My cheeks flush, my neck smothered in a prickling heat.
I drop my head, laughing as the breeze whips over us. Stray strands of hair fall over my face, and when I lift my head, I find Miles reaching before he retracts his hand and nods to the ladder on the side of the engine.
“Yes sir,” I whisper.
His expression flattens.
I peel myself from the hoses and scramble down the side of the old engine. My feet barely touch the ground before a rag flies at my head. I snatch it from the air with a hand.
Davey gestures to the entire truck. “If it doesn’t shine, it’s up for grabs.”
“Done and done.” I find the closest piece of dull chrome and swipe up the polish spray before circling the rag over it in a steady rhythm.
I glance up more times than I’d like to admit as I help rub 53 to an absolute shine.
Davey and I finally stand back, admiring our work as Miles climbs down the side ladder.
With a side glance to Davey who is dancing in the moonlight, literally, to the house speakers blasting some upbeat tune, Miles presses a thumb to the grab rail by the back doors. “Missed a spot, Tennison.”
My mouth gapes.
He messes up my already falling out braid as he walks past. “Keep going, kiddo.”
Stunned, I turn and watch him stride into the house, hands in his pockets, not bothering to look back.
Kiddo.
Kiddo?
What the hell?
Right.
Why does that bother me so damn much? I rub Miles Hammond’s thumb print from the grab rail like it’s personally offended me in a magnitude of ways.
Kiddo.
Friends.
The little sister vibe.
Awesome.
My eyes roll before I have the chance to understand the heat that’s swelling in my chest.
Miles is like, what? Ten years older than me?
Give or take a few years, if he started when I did.
That makes him thirty-two.
Oh.
Is that a thing? Why is this a problem? No, why is this a problem?
Ah, fuck.
Kels and his stupid matchmaking bullshit has my head all turned about over a guy who is off limits.
My boss. A man who, unless you are willing to risk your career, is forbidden.
Intra-crew relationships are forbidden. Not to mention the power imbalance between us.
Miles is responsible for assessing my probationary year.
It’s a conflict of interest that should not exist.
It doesn’t.
Kiddo. Proof nothing exists.
So why does that burn so bad?