Chapter 2 #2
“We all were,” she said quietly, and I wondered what she’d been like before whatever had put that guardedness in her eyes and the suppressants on her arm.
My radio crackled with traffic from another county, routine check-ins and status updates that created white noise in the background of our conversation.
Sable’s radio echoed it a second later, and she reflexively checked the display even though we both knew it wasn’t anything that required response.
“I should get back,” she said, but she didn’t move toward the door. “Need to write up the after-action report while everything’s still fresh.”
“Captain mentioned you’re the one who personally caught the foundation damage in the community center.” I wrapped both hands around my mug, using it as something to do with my hands that wasn’t reaching out to touch her. “I should have seen that in my last inspection.”
“It’s recent damage, like I said. You can’t predict everything, Beau.”
The way she said my name, finally using it after calling me Calder all morning, hit me harder than it should have. “Still my responsibility.”
“And you take responsibility seriously.” She tilted her head, studying me with an intensity that made me want to look away. “Maybe too seriously.”
“There’s no such thing as too seriously when lives are on the line.”
“No,” she agreed. “But there’s such a thing as carrying guilt that isn’t yours to carry.”
The observation was too close, too accurate. I looked away, focusing on the dregs of coffee in my mug. “You don’t know me well enough to make that assessment.”
“No,” she said again, softer this time. “I don’t. But I know what it looks like when someone’s punishing themselves for something that probably wasn’t their fault.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she didn’t understand, that the omega and her kid had died because I’d been too slow and too careful and too focused on procedure.
But the words stuck in my throat, because some part of me recognized the same thing in her. The way she held herself. The walls she’d built. The suppressants she wore like armor.
We were both carrying something we shouldn’t be carrying alone.
“Thanks for the coffee lesson,” she said, moving toward where she’d left her tablet and radio. “And for the breakfast invitation, even though I’m going to have to raincheck on the sandwich.”
“You’re welcome back anytime.” The words came out more earnest than I’d intended, and I saw her pause.
“Careful, Calder. That almost sounded like you wanted me to come back.”
“Beau,” I corrected one more time. “And yeah. I do.”
She looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw something complicated move through her expression. Want and fear and the same careful guardedness I saw every time I looked in a mirror.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, and slipped out of the kitchen before I could respond.
I stood there for a long moment after she left, listening to the sound of her sedan starting up and pulling out of the bay. Rhodes appeared in the doorway, inventory clipboard tucked under her arm and a knowing expression on her face.
“You gonna stand there scenting for her all day, or you gonna do something about it?”
“I’m not doing anything about anything,” I said, but I was already moving to rinse my mug in the sink. The scent of cedar smoke and autumn rain still lingered in the kitchen, underneath the smell of fresh coffee.
“Right.” Rhodes didn’t sound convinced. “And I’m the Queen of England.”
“She’s just a colleague. Someone whose work intersects with mine.”
“She’s an omega who got you to say more than five words consecutively and actually smile, which is more than anyone’s managed in three years.” Rhodes crossed her arms, watching me with the kind of maternal concern that had always made me uncomfortable. “It’s okay to be interested, Beau.”
“It’s not okay.” I gripped the edge of the sink, staring down at the drain like it might have answers. “I don’t have the right to be interested in anyone, let alone an omega who’s clearly been hurt enough already.”
“What happened three years ago wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was.”
“The current swept them away before you could reach the vehicle. The report was clear on that. Even if you’d been faster, the outcome would have been the same.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that.” Rhodes moved closer, her voice gentler. “I also know that you’re going to keep punishing yourself until something forces you to stop. Maybe that something just walked in here and cleaned our coffee maker.”
“Rhodes…”
“I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. I’m saying you’re allowed to want to. You’re allowed to be interested in someone without it being a betrayal of people you couldn’t save.”
I turned off the water, dried my hands with mechanical precision. “She’s not interested in me anyway. Or any alpha, from the looks of it. Those suppressants aren’t recreational.”
“No,” Rhodes agreed. “They’re not. Which means you might have more in common than you think.”
She left me there, alone in the kitchen that still smelled like cedar smoke and fresh coffee, wrestling with the uncomfortable realization that she was right.
I was interested. More than interested.
And I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.