Chapter Seven Lila
If anyone glanced into my dorm right now, they’d probably think I’m plotting a coup.
Honestly, depending on how you look at it, I am. A coup against lazy politics, misinformation, and the defunding of critical public services.
I’m surrounded by chaos, but I’m not exactly calm enough to be considered the eye of the storm. My laptop is open, the screen glowing with a spreadsheet of content ideas. My phone is propped against my water bottle with Instagram analytics pulled up.
There are half a dozen legal pads spread out like a deck of cards, with sticky notes peeking out at random. I also have a cork board laying on the floor, halfway to being transformed into a vision board for the Save A Hero campaign.
It’s been three days since the gala, and the first episode has gone live. The reception has been generally positive, especially thanks to the charming way Jake edited the footage of my little champagne slip to make Hale coming to my rescue seem like being the hero is instinctive.
I’m choosing to think about it in that regard instead of acknowledging how embarrassed I am that they caught my clumsy moment on camera.
I’m also choosing to forget about what happened after that mishap.
The heat, the desperation, the way we pawed at each other in the dark…
And then the way Hale stumbled away from me like something had struck him.
He didn’t say a word during the entire ride back to the station, and he hasn’t been on duty since.
So, basically, he regrets it. And that’s a good thing, because I regret it, too.
I mean, I’m trying to regret it. I know I’m supposed to regret it.
I just wish someone would tell that to my imagination. And my hammering heart. And the tingle in the pit of my stomach whenever I replay the sound of his low growl, drawn out by the way I rolled my hips against his.
Pressing my palms to either side of my head, I squeeze my skull as if that will help push out all the Hale-related thoughts.
“Focus,” I tell myself. “Focus on the strategy.”
My laptop chimes with a new email. I ignore it.
“Hook, hold, convert,” I recite out loud. “The hook is that the firefighters are hot. The hold is that they’re also human. We convert that into saving Station 47. Easy-peasy.”
My phone buzzes with a new TikTok notification. I reach out and swipe it away.
“Engagement,” I mutter, grabbing for a pencil to scribble down notes. “We need to find a way to utilize trending audio. Can brat summer be revitalized? No, probably not… Potential celebrity collaborations… would that cheapen it?”
I’m so deep in my mad scientist rambling that I completely forget where I am.
At least, until a high-pitched voice chirps out a, “Hello?”
I let out a little yelp at the interruption, not having realized that I left my door cracked open. Twisting around from where I’m hunched on the linoleum floor, my first thought is that I’ve jumped right off the deep end into psychosis because… did they shrink one of the firefighters?
Except, no, that’s definitely a child.
A little boy, maybe six or seven years old. He has big blue eyes and hair so light blond that it’s practically white. When all I can do is gape at him in surprise, he shuffles his feet, and I look down to see he’s wearing Spiderman sneakers with light-up soles.
He’s adorable, of course, but what on earth is a kid doing at a fire station?
“Hi there.” I quickly fix my deranged expression into a smile. “You startled me!”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I just wasn’t expecting visitors.”
He gazes around the room as the door drifts open a few more inches, then points to the disaster zone around me. “What’s all that stuff?”
“Homework. Really complicated homework.”
“Oh. I have homework sometimes, too. I didn’t know adults had homework, though.”
“I know, right? So annoying.”
“My daddy doesn’t get homework. He must have nice teachers.”
“Totally. Um, and who might your daddy be?”
The little boy smiles. “He works here. He’s a paralegal.”
“A what?”
“A paralegal. He fixes the hurt people.”
“A paramedic, you mean.”
He furrows his brow. “No, it’s called a paralegal.”
“Totally.”
“My daddy made spaghetti for dinner last night.”
I laugh at the random change in topic. “Was it yummy?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Spaghetti must be a paralegal specialty.”
“No, I don’t think so.” The little boy gives me a very serious look. “Rosa makes spaghetti better than him and she’s not a paralegal. She’s just a lady. She puts hot dogs in it.”
“Hot dogs, huh?”
“Hot dogs and sliced carrots,” he confirms. “She thinks I can’t tell, but it’s still good.”
“Oh, I see.” Where is this cutie’s father? “Hey, by the way, what’s your name?”
Before he can answer, there’s a small commotion outside in the hallway, followed by a familiar voice calling out, “Leo?”
The little boy turns to smile at someone I can’t see. “Daddy!”
“Leo, buddy, you can’t wander off like that. Remember how I told you that the fire station is a very serious place?”
A tall figure emerges behind the boy. I have to tilt my head back to lock eyes with Evan Reyes. Whatever he’s about to say seems to die on his lips as he realizes whose room the little boy—Leo, I’m assuming—has found.
I probably look like a crazy person, huddled among my scribbled plans for PR domination.
My hair is unbrushed and I’m wearing an FDNY T-shirt that Noah gave me, which is three sizes too big and drapes over my spandex shorts to make it seem like I’m not even wearing pants.
Basically, I look like the opposite of professional, but I had planned on donning something more appropriate when I eventually emerged from my cave.
Evan’s gaze lingers on my bare legs.
I try to think of something to say. Sorry I look like I can’t be bothered to get dressed properly? Sorry I’m awkward with kids? Sorry you have to witness the messy process behind the magic?
But Leo is the one who speaks next.
“Daddy, I have to pee.”
Evan tears his gaze from me to glance down at his son. “Okay, there’s a bathroom right down the hall. Do you want help?”
Leo scoffs loudly. “No! I know how to pee.”
“Of course you do, buddy.”
The little boy scurries off, and Evan watches as he goes until we both hear the distant sound of the bathroom door down the hall opening and closing.
When Evan turns back toward me, he has an apologetic smile on his face.
“I’m so sorry about that. I swear I only turned my back for three seconds.”
“They move fast, apparently.”
“Definitely. I really try not to bring him here because it’s obviously dangerous, but his nanny had a last-minute emergency.”
I smile, rising to my feet and trying not to wince at the way my legs cramp from being bent underneath me for so long. “It’s fine. He’s pretty cute. He’s yours?”
“Uh, yeah. Technically. He—my wife—it’s a long story.”
“Wife?” I echo, sounding like an idiot.
I hadn’t noticed a ring on his finger. Not that I was looking for something like that before allowing myself to fully appreciate how pretty this man is when I first met him.
Not that it matters, anyway.
Evan nods, a sad smile on his face. “Leo is her son from a previous relationship, but I’ve been there since he was about two years old. She passed away four years ago, and I became his guardian.”
“Oh. Wow.” I really don’t know what to say.
Except that there’s something so sweet, and undeniably sexy, about Evan’s strong sense of duty. He probably didn’t have to do that. He could have let Leo be taken in by one of his late wife’s relatives and moved on, but he chose to raise the boy as his own.
An idea sparks in my mind. It takes all my willpower not to drop back down to the floor and scribble it into my notes.
Evan must see something odd in my expression because he cringes slightly.
“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Didn’t mean to dump my life story on you like that.”
I laugh. “That’s hardly a life story. But, um, I’m really sorry for your loss.”
His face softens. “Thank you.”
A beat of silence passes between us. He drops his gaze down to the floor, but I’m definitely imagining the way his eyes take their time trailing a path down the length of my legs in the process.
It’s just the insanity creeping in. But that doesn’t mean I don’t also take the chance to ogle his incredible physique, covered as it is with track pants and a FDNY hoodie.
It’s ridiculous how gorgeous all these men are. Even the guy they call Old Bill is handsome in his own way. He really rocks that mustache of his.
“Lila?”
I blink, realizing I was too busy thinking about middle-aged men with mustaches to notice Evan was speaking to me. “Hm?”
“I just said that this looks a little intense.” He gestures to the mess on the floor.
“Oh, this is nothing. You should see our company office.” I flinch at my own words. “Actually, forget I said that. Hartstrings PR is super organized and extremely tidy at all times.”
He chuckles. “Hey, your secret is safe with me.”
“Good.”
“I’ll let you get back to it.” He turns to go, probably to catch Leo before he can run off from the bathroom.
“Wait, I need you…”
He halts, raising a single eyebrow at me. “Pardon?”
Don’t blush. Don’t fucking blush, you freak.
“I need you to meet with me sometime soon,” I clarify. “We should discuss your episode of Save A Hero.”
“Right. We’re doing the Family Safety Fair?”
I grin at him. “You were paying attention to my presentation!”
Something shadowy and sultry flickers in his hazel eyes, causing my stomach to flip. “Of course I was paying attention to you.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. It’s a miracle I don’t start giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Good. Great. So… tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”