Chapter 29 Warren
TWENTY-NINE
WARREN
“O’Connor, a minute,” a familiar voice calls through the equipment bay.
I lower the clipboard and pause my inspection of the rigs. “Yes, Captain,” I holler and head toward the back of the station to his office.
There’s no sarcasm between me and Marcus. I respect his rank, as he does mine. I’ve never taken our personal or professional relationship for granted, and while there have been times he hasn’t agreed with my decisions, I know he has my best intentions at heart.
Once in his office, I shut the door and lower into a chair opposite his desk.
“You’ll need to tidy this mess for the fit testing next week.” He circles my face.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I grumble.
If there’s one positive about being suspended, it’s not having to keep my facial hair trimmed. Everyone at the station is due for an annual fit testing of our breathing apparatus, and I’m not exempt, meaning the beard has to go.
Marcus taps the edge of his desk as he studies me closely, making it clear this isn’t about my facial hair. “How are the sessions going?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t Doctor Brunswick reporting back to you and the chief?”
He sighs. “It doesn’t work like that, and you know it. He’ll give us his honest feedback once you’ve completed all sessions. He won’t disclose anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“Good thing I’m uncomfortable with it all then.” My joke falls flat.
The corners of his mouth dip. “Are you taking it seriously? We’ve done this dance before. You stick to the rules for a few months and then go back to your old ways, taking risks and undermining decisions because you think you know best.”
“Those risks save lives.” I roll my shoulders. “I’ve never put any of my team in danger.”
“No, just yourself.”
I’m not a rule breaker. The line between life and death is too fragile, but we’re also taught to use our initiative and preserve life. If that means tiptoeing that same line, I’ll do what’s necessary.
Failure can happen gradually or in a split second. Neither option is acceptable.
“Listen, I just wanted to make sure you’re making use of your time with Doctor Brunswick. The last thing I want is to see—”
“Me fired. You and me both.” I sigh. “I’m taking it seriously. The guy has a knack for saying nothing yet getting me to say more than I have in years. I want to get back to duties, Marcus. I need to.”
“It’s good you’re speaking to him.” Marcus considers me. “Does Harriet know?”
Like a damn dog, my ears perk up at her name. “She knows about the suspension.”
“And everything else?”
I’m silent.
Disbelief paints his face. “Warren, you need to tell her. She’s a huge part of your life, and she’s going to find out eventually.”
“No,” I snap. The arms of the chair groan under my vise-like grip. “You don’t get to do that. Harriet isn’t some chess piece you can use to manipulate me.”
He recoils. “Manipulate? Fuck. You know damn well that’s not the case.
But c’mon, man. Before she came into your life, you were a ghost, barely living.
I hated taking you off duty, but you left me with no other choice.
I’m tired of this cycle, where it seems like I’ve got my old friend back before you start to throw yourself in harm’s way.
” He leans forward, hands planted on the table.
“What are you trying to prove? You’re a fantastic firefighter, a brilliant mentor to the newbies, but you seem so adamant about tempting fate. ”
“And what does Harriet have to do with this?”
“Because she’s the one bringing you back from the brink!
” He raises his voice before inhaling sharply.
Marcus is never one to lose his cool. “When you first told me about the pregnancy, I was positive this would be your undoing. Instead, it’s the best thing to happen to you.
You have to open up to her. I know you hate talking about the past but it doesn’t change anything.
Do not take this for granted, or you risk losing her. ”
“Enough,” I grit, standing abruptly. “She isn’t mine to lose. All that matters is she and the baby are cared for. I’m doing that—or trying to. She’s not my wife or girlfriend, and what goes on here isn’t her concern or something she even cares about. End of the conversation.”
He remains seated, watching me like a skittish animal ready to break loose from its enclosure. “I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit.”
“What do you mean?”
He jerks a shoulder. “I heard you. At Christmas. I thought the nightmares had stopped. I was about to check on you when I watched Harriet go into your room. Ben said she didn’t emerge until the morning.”
God, I want to punch him. “And your point is?”
“Those are not the intentions of a woman who is simply there as the mother of your child. Neither of you expected to cross paths like this; doesn’t mean it can’t lead somewhere.”
Disaster is where it’ll lead.
If I don’t leave this office, I’ll have to call my sister and explain why her husband is sporting a black eye. Thankfully, a knock on the door saves the integrity of his face.
One of the probies pokes their head around the door. “There’s someone here to see you.”
I turn to my friend, my anger slowly fading. It never lasts long with him. Like an old fucking married couple, all we need is space. “Better get out there.”
“Um, not for the captain. For you, O’Connor.”
My head snaps toward the newcomer. “Me?”
He nods quickly. “Yeah. Says her name is Harry. She brought cookies. Between you and me”—he drops to a whisper—“they taste like charcoal and look raw.”
I’m out of the office without another glance at Marcus, knowing he’ll be sitting there smugly at how quickly I move to find Harriet.
Standing in the middle of the engine bay, glowing and smiling, she chats to my crew mates while handing out cookies. My blood boils at the sight. I’ve been collecting her smiles for weeks and these chumps don’t deserve them.
She spies me lurking by an engine, and then, it happens.
My smile, as I’ve come to call it, paints her pretty face.
All is good in the world if she continues looking at me like this.
Excusing herself, she saunters over, clutching a tin.
I lean against the shiny red rig. “What brings you down here?”
Grinning, she rattles the metal tin between us. “Trying out a new recipe and thought you might all deserve a sweet treat. I think baking is my calling, not cooking.”
I risk a glance at my colleagues. Two of them stare at the cookies in their hands offensively while another subtly drops hers in the trash.
“You might be right.” If a little white lie keeps her happy, then so be it. “Are there any left for me?”
She whips off the lid.
I choose one on the smaller side and take a bite.
The probie was right; they taste burned and undercooked at the same time.
Lord knows how she does it. She’s got it in her head that being a good mother requires culinary skills.
That isn’t true, and as I struggle to swallow the clump of overly sweet dough, I make it my mission to find her another hobby.
For her sake and my digestive system.
“Well…” She rocks on the balls of her feet. “How’d they taste?”
I give her a thumbs up, still struggling to get the last bite down without water. Or an antacid.
A gust of wind blows through the open doors, sending her golden strands in all directions, some getting caught in her glossy lips. I close the gap between us, brushing them out of her face and taking a hit of her perfume.
“I also wanted to give you this.” She searches in her bag before revealing a small, heart-shaped picture frame.
In the middle sits the blurry, black-and-white image of our baby, pouty lips, tiny hands waving above their head.
“Consider it a belated Christmas present. Oh god, or birthday. When is your birthday?”
I huff a laugh. “It’s August. You’re good.”
“Phew.” She swipes a hand over her forehead. “If you don’t like the frame, we can switch it out.”
I felt like a monumental piece of shit for not accepting the sonogram picture all those months ago at the diner.
I wasn’t thinking straight after two little words had turned my world upside down just hours earlier.
This is happening, there’s no denying it, and since the scan and hearing Button’s strong, steady heartbeat, it doesn’t just feel real, it is real.
Fear and chaos still swarm me, but behind my ribcage, my heart swells in size.
“Nah.” I trace their button nose. “This is perfect.”