Chapter 18 Karl
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Karl
Mornings with Leo usually run like clockwork. He’s up first, already got the coffee pot going, and I stumble out half asleep, trying to steal some before he drains the whole thing.
Today’s no different. He’s at the counter, scrolling through his phone with one hand and sipping with the other, acting like caffeine is the only thing standing between him and an early grave.
“Morning, champ,” I say, reaching for the pot. “Who’s stuck with station cleanup duty today? Please tell me it’s not us.”
He doesn’t look up. “It’s us. Captain rotated it.”
I groan, pouring myself a cup. “Figures. All that training, all those calls, and somehow, we’re still the guys scrubbing the bathroom tiles.”
“That’s because you keep skipping assignments,” he shoots back, deadpan. “Maybe if you showed up for every shift on time instead of rolling in with a smile and an excuse, we’d get better luck.”
I grin into my mug. “C’mon, you love my excuses. Admit it.”
“Can’t say I do,” he mutters, flipping through the roster. “At least I know I’ll actually get some work done today.”
That’s our usual rhythm, me pushing, him resisting, but there’s something sharper about the way he slams a cabinet shut. The sharp that’s not about work at all.
I drop into a chair, stretching my legs out. “Alright, out with it. What’s got you wound so tight this morning?”
He sets his phone down a little too hard. “You said she’d only be here for a night.”
And there it is.
“You mean Liv?” I ask, even though we both know.
“Who else?” He gestures toward the hall, where her bag’s still sitting against the wall like an accusation. “That was supposed to be one night, Karl. She’s in our space, eating at our table, hanging around like she’s one of us.”
I arch a brow. “She’s not exactly moving on her treadmill and throwing paint on the walls, Leo. She’s sleeping in the spare room until her apartment’s fixed. Not a crime.”
He glares. “It’s not about crime. It’s about space. Our space. You made it sound temporary. Now it doesn’t feel temporary at all.”
I lean back, sipping my coffee. “So, what, you want me to tell her to grab a sleeping bag and camp at the station between calls? She’s got nowhere else to go, man. You know that.”
“Always the hero,” he mutters under his breath, bitterness curling around the words.
“Damn right,” I say, tossing him a grin that doesn’t quite stick.
Leo doesn’t take the bait. He stares at me, jaw tight, that vein in his temple twitching. “This isn’t about you swooping in and saving her, Karl. It’s about the fact that she’s here. Every day. Every night. Like some… permanent fixture.”
I set my mug down harder than I mean to. “She’s not a fixture, she’s a person. A person who just lost her place to a fire, in case you forgot. You think she wants to be here?”
“She doesn’t look too miserable when you’re cooking her dinner and laughing over wine,” Leo snaps, his eyes flashing.
That one lands, because I did cook dinner. I sat across from her and tried my best to make her smile. But the edge in his voice pisses me off more than the truth of it.
“You seriously holding that against me? What, am I not allowed to make her feel welcome?”
He takes a step closer, his shoulders stiff. “You’re allowed to do whatever the hell you want, Karl. You always do. But don’t drag me into it. Don’t make me live in this house like everything’s fine when it’s not.”
I push back my chair and stand, meeting him eye to eye. “You think glaring at her every time she walks into a room is helping? Because it’s not. You’re making her feel like shit, Leo. And honestly? I’m sick of it.”
His scowl deepens, and for a second, I see more than irritation there. I see something raw, something he’s trying really hard to bury. “You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me,” I snap. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just don’t like her. And if that’s the case, fine, but at least be man enough to admit it instead of hiding behind your damn silence.”
He slams his mug down on the counter, coffee sloshing over the rim. “It’s not that simple!”
“Then make it simple!” My voice rises to match his, frustration boiling over. “She’s here. She’s not hurting anyone. And all you’re doing is acting like she kicked your dog every time she breathes too close to you.”
Leo’s fists clench at his sides, his breathing sharp. For a moment, I think he’s going to swing. Not because he hates me, but because he hates that I’m right.
“I don’t trust her,” he grinds out finally. “Happy now? That’s the truth. I don’t trust her.”
I blink, caught off guard. “What the hell has she done to make you not trust her?”
His eyes flick toward the hall again, then back to me, darker than I’ve ever seen them. “Everything about her screams temporary. And when she leaves, she’s going to take you down with her. And anyone else who’s dumb enough to fall for the way she looks at you.”
The silence after that is deafening.
I shake my head slowly, my chest tight. “You don’t know a damn thing about her, Leo. You’ve decided she’s guilty without evidence, and you’re punishing her for it. That’s not fair. It’s not you.”
His laugh is humorless, bitter. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
That one stings, and I don’t bother hiding it. “Really? After everything we’ve been through, you’re going to stand there and act like I don’t know you?”
His jaw tightens. “Not when you keep putting her before me.”
The words land like a punch to the gut. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?” He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “You bend over backwards to make her comfortable. You argue with me in her defense.”
I snort, though it feels forced. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Don’t do that,” he snaps, sharper than I’ve heard him in a long time. “Don’t joke your way out of this. She’s been here five minutes and already you’re choosing her over me.”
Heat flares in my chest, the kind that makes my temper rise faster than I can reel it back. “I’m not choosing anyone. I’m just being decent to someone who needed it.”
Leo’s eyes flash, and for a second, I think I’ve said the wrong thing. Then I realize I have.
“Just being decent,” he repeats, flatly.
I scrub a hand over my face, wishing I could pull the words back, but it’s too late.
So, I double down, because that’s what I do when I’m cornered.
“Yeah. I mean… we’ve only been on one date, Leo.
One. You’re acting like I’ve signed my life away to her.
I was just being kind. Don’t twist it into something it’s not. ”
Something shifts in his expression. It’s small, almost invisible, but I catch it. The tightness around his mouth, the way his shoulders go rigid.
He thinks I don’t mean it. He thinks I’m not serious about her at all.
That might shut up whatever this is.
Leo shakes his head slowly, like I’ve just proven him right about everything. “Exactly what I thought,” he mutters.
“Leo—”
But he’s already turning away, rinsing his mug out at the sink with clipped, efficient movements that cut me out of the conversation entirely.
The rift isn’t loud, not like a slammed door or a fist through drywall. It’s quiet. Heavy. The kind you feel in the way silence lingers long after the arguments are over.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t know how to bridge it.