14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
SETH
I pulled up my text thread with Violet and my fingers hovered over the keys. We hadn’t talked since I dropped her back off at her place Saturday night. Were there times that I found myself wanting to text her over the last few days? Yep. But each time I’d remind myself we weren’t really dating.
Why that concept was getting harder and harder to remember, I didn’t know. Okay, that wasn’t the whole truth—I did know. I liked spending time with her. Maybe neither of us were ready for something serious again, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends while we fake dated. Right?
Although the way I felt with her on Saturday, especially when she tensed up when James walked in, was anything but just friends.
I hated that she couldn’t seem to avoid him, but I was quickly learning that was part of small-town life.
I could only hope that he was getting the message that she was mine now.
Fuck. I blinked. Not actually mine. But as far as he knew—as far as everyone knew—she was.
We’d made plans to get together for breakfast or lunch later in the week, but now I was curious what the latest development I’d overheard meant for the arson case. How fast news traveled in a small town still surprised me some days. I glanced at the time and typed out a quick message.
Me: Heard the news. What does that mean for the arson case?
Violet: Means we’re pretty much starting over. Since we know the BBQ place wasn’t the work of our arsonist, the matchbook Logan found isn’t really a clue.
According to what Jay’s wife said she’d heard, teenagers were responsible for that fire.
When brought in with their parents to be questioned, they’d broken down and admitted it.
They’d been using the abandoned place to lay low.
Apparently, they didn’t intentionally start the fire, but booze, cigarettes, and matches ended up being a bad combination.
Me: I’m sorry.
Violet: It’s fine. Comes with the job. I’ll eat a pint of ice cream and then I’ll be ready to start over tomorrow.
I glanced over toward the kitchen where one of our paramedics, Kyle Williams, was pouring himself a cup of coffee.
I’d recently made the connection that he was one of Hattie and Savannah’s brothers.
I got up and headed in his direction, leaning back on the counter next to him.
He looked over at me with a raised brow.
“What was that ice cream place called?” I remembered him talking about it being the best in town when he and his wife were planning to take their kids after shift a few weeks ago.
“The Shack?”
“Right.” I pushed away from the counter. “Thanks.”
I ignored his grumbling as I walked away and sat back down in the chair I’d vacated a minute earlier, sending Violet another text.
Me: Want to go to The Shack?
Violet: Like together?
Me: …
Violet: I thought you don’t eat sugar?
Me: Ice cream is the exception.
Mostly because I could never say no to my niece every time she asked me to have some with her. But I really hadn’t had any since moving here. After the intense heat of the day, the frozen treat definitely sounded appealing.
Violet: They have the best ice cream.
Me: Is that a yes?
Violet: Sure. Hopefully this kidnapping debacle doesn’t take all night.
Me: What?
What the hell? I was struggling to believe this small town could have a kidnapping. Then again, Hattie was abducted outside of her family’s restaurant earlier this year by a crazed stalker, so anything was possible. But how come we hadn’t heard of it yet?
I cursed under my breath when the alarms went off and dispatch relayed the request for mutual aid for a wildfire in a neighboring town. We’d been dealing with our fair share in the last few weeks, I wasn’t surprised others were too.
Depending on how bad this was, it could keep us past the end of shift.
Which meant ice cream might be out of the question for the evening. That had me grumbling the whole way downstairs because, dammit, I was really looking forward to seeing her again.