10. Miles
CHAPTER 10
MILES
I was early for Monday’s shift, stupidly early. So early it was technically still Sunday night, and I had half an hour to overthink.
I tried to distract myself with the maintenance check, hitting each item twice to kill extra time. But I’d done it so many times I could run the check sleeping, and I kept flashing back to those ten shellshocked seconds. That moment in the bar Sophie leaned up and kissed me. I couldn’t be certain, had I kissed her back? Or had I just stood there with my hand in her hair, thinking how soft it was, like cornsilk?
I’d braced myself after as I slunk back to Brian, knowing he’d chide me for crossing the streams. Work and play didn’t mix. Any rookie knew that. But Brian hadn’t seen us. He’d just seen my back. And I hadn’t told him, because… because . Because, why give Brian ammo to mock me for weeks, when the kiss was ten seconds, and then it was done? She might show up today and not remember at all. Or she’d act like she didn’t, and we’d move on.
Or what if… What if…?
I checked the wipers, then cleaned them. Scoured the windshield. There was no what if. Not for me and Sophie. It might be fun a while, but that wouldn’t last, and then we’d be stuck, partners and exes. Or, worse, ex-partners, both reassigned. Sophie was turning into far too good a partner to risk trashing that over one reckless kiss.
She’d held onto my arm.
Squeezed my bicep.
Pressed up against me, all soft and sweet.
Ten seconds, I reminded myself. I’d held her ten seconds. As partners, we might make it ten entire years. I had to be smart here. Think with my head. Sophie would get that, if I phrased it right.
About the other night, I was thinking…
I wanted to talk to you about this last month. We started out rough, but we make a good team. I think we should stick with that, not… Not…
Hey, Sophie. I don’t think ? —
“Hey. Happy Monday.”
I dropped a pack of syringes. “Sophie! You’re here.”
“Yeah, uh, I…” Her ears turned pink. She tried to push her hair back, but it was up in a bun, and she only succeeded in messing it up. “This is awkward,” she said, and I winced because now it was. Her eyes were darting every which way, to my shoes, then the ambulance, anywhere but my face.
“I was thinking?—”
“I thought?—”
I cleared my throat. “You go first.”
Sophie’s whole face went red. She snatched up a spine board and held it like a shield, across her chest with the straps hanging down.
“Our kiss,” she said. “I was out celebrating. I got caught up in the mood, but I don’t want, uh… Idontwantthingstogetweirdsolet’sforgetitokay?”
It took me a moment to parse what she’d said, the words running together in her rush to get them out. But then it sank in, and my heart did a dive. My whole chest felt empty, my insides scooped out, which didn’t make sense, because this was a relief. Hadn’t I been planning the same speech myself, choosing my words to sound thoughtful, not mean?
“I thought the same thing,” I said, and it was true, but not true. What I thought was, not pursuing things was for the best. What I felt was hurt, disappointed. Rejected. And a little bit foolish for feeling that way.
“Then, good.” Sophie’s voice jumped up an octave, good coming out as a high, mousy squeak.
“Good,” I repeated.
She giggled. “Yeah, perfect.”
This was about to be one long, awkward day.
Our shift started busy, and that was a mercy, no time to sit and stew in our weirdness. We had a car crash, a nasty scene, a scared mom and her kid trapped in the wreckage. Fire department cut them out and we brought them in, and then it was off to a suspected stroke. We had old Mr. Dimitriou needing a bed transfer — he liked to call us when his legs got too sore — and some college kid who’d swallowed a fish.
“I think it’s alive in there. I feel its tail wiggling.” He gagged and I jumped back, but he didn’t horf. Sophie frowned at the fish tank.
“What kind of fish was it?”
“I don’t know,” said the kid. “Brock put it in my beer when I wasn’t looking.”
Sophie closed her eyes like she was trying not to roll them. “And which one of you fine young men would be Brock?”
A towheaded kid stuck up his hand.
“You’re Brock? Fantastic. What kind of fish was it?”
“One of those shiny ones? With the red stripe?”
“A neon tetra,” I said.
“Oh, God, those have teeth!” The kid clutched his belly. “I feel it biting. Ugh, get it out!”
Sophie stifled a huffing sound, maybe a laugh. “It’s not biting,” she said. “No, look at me. Listen. I can pretty much promise you that beer would’ve drowned it, or knocked it out at the very least. And, listen, okay. When did you call us?”
“A while ago.” Brock smirked. “You’re really slow.”
“So, say it’s been in there around twenty minutes, swimming around in a big pool of acid. You think it’d survive that?”
The kid turned greenish. “You’re saying it’s… dead?”
“I’m saying its biting days are over and done. Now, you might get some symptoms of?—”
“It’s dead? Oh, God .” The kid hunched forward and his whole body heaved, and Sophie stepped clear as he let loose. The rest of the boys broke out cheering like fools, but Sophie held up her hand.
“You think that was funny, making your friend drink a fish?”
Most of the kids shut up, but Brock was still smirking.
“I mean, yeah, kind of? Look at his face.”
Sophie didn’t look. She drew herself up. “Well, here’s something funny: animal abuse is a felony in the state of Massachusetts. You can be fined up to five grand, or seven years’ jail time. How does that sound?”
Brock laughed. “For a fish? Don’t make me?—”
“And some of the fish in that tank carry parasites. Bugs that could make your friend really sick. He got lucky this time, and he threw it up, but if he didn’t, that’d be on you.”
Brock glanced at his friends, who were backing away. His mean smirk had curdled into a petulant pout.
“My dad’s friend’s a lawyer,” he said. “He’d get me off.”
“Maybe,” said Sophie. “Or maybe not. Lawyers aren’t magicians, and a jury would hate you. We’ll go easy this time, and we won’t report you. But if we get called out again on any fishy business, you’d better believe we’ll be bringing the cops.”
Brock slunk off, still muttering, and we checked out the kid. Apart from his nausea, he seemed mostly fine, and he declined a trip to the ER. We left him sipping water without any fish, and headed back out into the night.
“You were pretty badass in there.” I flashed Sophie a grin. “Was that true about the parasites?”
She laughed. “Not a clue. I just hated that Brock kid, and— Ah! ” Her feet skidded out on her, and she went flying. I lunged and caught her before she could fall, but my heel hit the ice and I skidded too. We spun like ice dancers and bounced off the fence, and went staggering backward into the gate. Sophie grabbed hold of me and I clung to her, cheek to cheek in a cloud of white breath. Snow powdered down on us from a scraggly spruce, and clung to her lashes and her fine hair. I reached up without thinking to brush it away, then froze as her cheeks went pink. Her blue eyes went wide.
“I, uh…” She coughed.
I stepped back. “No, right.”
“Thank you for catching me.”
“My pleasure. I mean…”
We tried to laugh at the awkwardness, but that came out strained too, like when someone’s just told a joke that’s less funny than tasteless. Sophie shook out the snow from her hair. I wanted to say something to break up the tension, but nothing good came to me, so I went with the weather.
“Looks like snow.”
Sophie looked up. “Yeah, guess so.”
“No one knows how to drive in the snow.”
We piled back in the ambulance and drove back to our post. No calls came in, and we sat watching the sun rise. The silence got heavy, and Sophie picked at her sleeve.
“Long shift,” she said.
I nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Can’t wait to get home and dive into bed.”
“Yeah, me too.” I covered a yawn. Then it hit me, what if she thought I meant her bed? “My bed, I mean. Not, uh— Oh, man.”
Sophie did a facepalm. I cringed, mortified. The radio sat silent and no calls came in, and we sat marinating in our own awkward sauce. By the end of our shift, we were jumpy as cats, and we couldn’t wrap up fast enough, back at the station. Jones narrowed his eyes at us as he grabbed a clipboard.
“I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s off here.”
I didn’t say anything. Sophie reddened and shrugged.
“Did you guys have another fight? Is that’s what’s happening?”
“Nope,” Sophie said. “We’re fine here. All good.”
Jones looked at her, then he looked at me. “I don’t know what happened here, or what’s going on, but there’s some seriously weird energy up in this room.”
Sophie jumped up. “Well, my report’s done.”
“Yeah, mine as well.” I got up too, and made for my locker. Sophie went for Clive’s office, report in hand. Jones hopped in the ambulance, but I could still hear him chuckling, and when I glanced back, he shook his head.
“Weird,” he said.
Yeah. Things were weird.