3. Jensen
THREE
JENSEN
My shift at The Cove had been extended to three more. Jackson’s staff was dropping like flies with the flu going around. Friday night had been cut short. The forecasted ice storm had come in with a vengeance.
I didn’t mind taking the night off. In fact, I flatlined for a good twelve hours.
Intense creative spirals often led me into a full-on faceplant. As if my brain needed to go offline and reset.
I wasn’t mad about it.
Between the long hours at the bar and training, exhaustion had set in to the extreme.
I rolled onto my back and stared at my ceiling. The watery early morning light showed all the imperfections of the texture I’d added to the walls. The deep, dark shadows and fire were still intense, but not as claustrophobic in the daytime.
Seeing the fire dragged Lyric back into my head.
Watching her fold into herself had been painful enough, but watching her spiral into an anxiety attack had been like a punch. I’d wanted to chase after her, to curl around her and protect her—even if the current threat lived inside her.
Stupid.
Not my place, first of all.
Second, it was obvious I might have been the catalyst.
Which had wrecked me on another level.
I’d had to stick it in a box to get through the rest of my shift. I’d kept an eye on her sister, and shamelessly, I’d glanced at her phone to see a text that Lyric had gotten home and was fine.
My mood hadn’t improved, but I knew how to hide that side of me. It was easier to smile, to flirt in an innocuous way, to pass out the drinks with a bit of flair.
Inside, I’d stewed.
Did she really hate me so much?
Or was I too harsh a reality?
Perhaps I triggered her in some way.
The man who had let her get hurt.
“Fuck.” I sat up and raked my fingers through my hair. It was getting long again, and I’d need to cut it before the last week of the academy.
It had been a brutal three months of coursework and physical training. I was pretty sure I’d never worked harder at anything other than my art in my whole life.
Then again, I wanted to understand the fire.
Wanted to know how to beat it.
The deeper I got into the heart of training, the more I was sucked in. Somehow, I’d found myself intrigued by every aspect of it. Most especially, the many levels of arson. I was tempted to continue my education there, but I wanted to be in the field first.
And that meant convincing Captain Mills to hire me on.
The Crescent Cove Fire Department was pretty sizeable. They also helped out the surrounding towns when needed, thanks in part to Mills’ intense post-academy training.
I’d never been a joiner. Quite the opposite, actually.
Art was a solitary career, and I was more than happy to spend most of my life there, but the helplessness was more than I could handle. Seeing how the firefighters had banded together to take care of each part of the store, as well as each person who had been trapped—that had stuck with me.
The academy finally made sense.
My first run through I hadn’t understood the cooperative aspect. It had been about me, and me alone.
Why I’d failed.
Why it hadn’t mattered that I failed.
Until now.
I rolled off the mattress with a groan. My body wasn’t used to being inactive for so long. I generally lived on around four hours of sleep, tops. I checked my meager window to find the slate gray sky hiding the sun. But with the endless cloud cover, at least the temperatures should be higher.
I glanced around for my phone, spotting it in the twisted sheets on my bed. “Thirty-nine degrees. Practically a heatwave.”
I moved to the drawers tucked into the corner of my room and unearthed my winter running gear. Another thing that had changed in my life. I needed to keep in shape for this firefighter gig. I’d been naturally lean and enjoyed being active. I did some wall climbing for the balance aspect.
Doing wall murals had turned me into a damn monkey. I’d started out with tagging during my days in Albany. But there was so much more that you could do with spray paint and acrylic.
But Crescent Cove wasn’t about that life.
There wasn’t an urban component that fit my style. Since moving here, I’d found I didn’t miss the urban or the stress and sadness that coated the streets of downtown Albany. Originally, I’d dreamed of moving to Brooklyn or Chicago, but the more time I spent in this lake town, the easier it was to put those old dreams in my rearview.
Not because I had to, but because they seemed made for a different me.
I swapped my ancient, paint-splattered shorts for long pants and a tight canary yellow shirt that helped with the sweat, and then I tied on my sneakers with the extra grip on the soles. I slipped my phone into the slim pocket and tucked my earbuds into my ears. On my way out the door, I grabbed my weighted vest and hid it under a zipped running jacket.
A good hard run would put me back to rights.
And if I was lucky, Brewed Awakening would have a decent breakfast spread left.
My shitty apartment building was still better than I’d ever had in Albany. Crime wasn’t completely absent, but this small town definitely had fewer seedier parts to it. Crescent Cove was built for families, but there were plenty of spaces for the in-between types like me.
Who were unsure where, exactly, we fit.
Or those who were just starting out, like a few of my neighbors.
I waved to a few that I knew and was surprised to see Ben Sullivan slipping out of a door on my floor.
I tapped my ear to turn off my music. “Walk of shame?” I called out.
Ben’s shoulders hunched. “Man. That isn’t even a thing anymore.”
“You move in or something?”
He chuckled. “Or something.” He socked me in the chest and hissed. “What the hell, Turner?”
I unzipped my jacket and flashed the vest I’d borrowed from the academy.
“Jesus. You’re going running in that?”
I shrugged. “You said to work out with it when I could.”
“Yeah, on the damn treadmill. Hardcore.” He nodded for me to keep walking. “Now you’re making me look bad.”
I shrugged. “I got my stress course this weekend. Just trying to give myself a leg up.”
“Oh, man. I didn’t realize you were so far through the academy. Where the hell has the time gone?”
“Good question. Any tips?”
“You can do all the exercises, all the weight training.” He slapped my chest again with the back of his hand. “All the vests, but if your head isn’t ready, you’re fucked.”
Which was one of my worries.
I nodded. “I’m ready.”
“Are you?”
“I’m doing my damn best to get there.”
“Better answer. Working a small town means more community stuff than actual fires. If you’re looking for an adrenaline-junkie sort of life, you need to go to a big city.”
“I’ve considered it.”
Ben slowed to a stop. “Really?”
“I could go back to Albany. It’s not sexy like Brooklyn, but I could.”
Ben arched a brow. “You want that?”
“No.”
His smile was quick, and the affable guy I’d been getting to know over the last year showed through. “Good. If you’re not on tonight, head over to Sharkey’s. Darts and a beer sound good?”
“Yeah. Actually, that sounds really good. I’ve been working every night for ten days straight, I think.”
Ben snickered. “Me too, man. Double duty as fire and EMT sucks some days.”
“So, who’s the new girl?”
Ben flushed. “No new girl.”
“Oh. New guy?”
Ben laughed. “Not that, either. I’m crashing here with Adam. I was renting a room, and they sold the building to that douche Maitland. He’s knocking it down to extend the shopping plaza near the lake.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry, man.”
He shrugged. “I’ll find a place somewhere. Adam is barely here, anyway. He takes every shift available and bunks at the firehouse most of the time.”
“Best kind of roommate.”
He laughed as we both veered off to take the stairs instead of the elevator. Once downstairs, we broke off as I took off at a slow jog. My apartment building was close to Trick or Treat, which was why I’d started working there. Not that candy was on my high protein diet these days.
And obviously, Lyric didn’t want me there.
I fisted my hands and picked up the pace. A flash of her terrified face had me lengthening my stride.
As the expansive factory came into view, I actually slowed. I’d been avoiding it mostly since I didn’t have shifts there. I’d been there for the reopening in solidarity with the rest of the people who worked there. Nolan had actually started working on his metal sculptures again which brought a shit ton of people into the Cove to see his new work.
It kept people coming to Trick or Treat, simply to catch sight of the metal and glass.
Glass being a new component to his work.
Dark and light—fucking incredible all around.
And I’d felt shut out.
Not by Nolan. He didn’t give a crap about the business side of Trick or Treat. That was all Lyric. But the expansion hadn’t been open to the public.
Just the candy store and all eyes on Nolan. He was a world-famous artist who had fought back his own demons to get back to his craft. Talk about gothic and metal as fuck. Nolan had a haunted Victorian on the lake, as well. I was still itching to get that commission to draw the house.
But it wasn’t done yet.
He wanted me to draw it for him when the renovations were complete. The house had been incredible to start, but now it was an actual art installation right here in the Cove.
I found myself steering into the parking lot of Trick or Treat. A lot had changed since the last time I’d had a shift. Actually, I’d stopped asking why I’d been pushed off the schedule. The Fire Academy had taken most of my focus, anyway.
But this wasn’t the same space at all.
The new Trick or Treat sign was as macabre as the old, but instead of the disturbing scarecrow, Nolan had fashioned a Poe-inspired gate with a raven mid-flight. The new blacktop was inky dark-stained instead of the gravel it had been back when the place had first opened. Instead of white lines, they were a blood red for the parking spaces and a neon pink for the specialty spots for pickup, differently abled, and loading areas.
I found myself heading around the building instead of going to the front of the candy shop. The back of the building was new with an open bazaar feel to it under a snow-tinged glass enclosure. It felt like a greenhouse and an atrium had melded into one. It was obviously Nolan’s design with...something else.
Perhaps the architect I’d heard about who had jumped in on the rebuild.
I cupped my hands around my eyes to get a peek inside. Beyond the glass was a warehouse style-setup sprayed a flat black for the walls and the ceiling. My fingers itched to cover every inch with something.
Color.
Line work.
Something.
“Jensen?”
I spun at the voice that rose above my music. Nolan Devereaux stood with his fingers stuffed into his leather jacket. He was wearing his usual shades so I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or not. His voice always sounded raw and angry, thanks to his own scars. Nolan had been nearly killed by his own artwork a few short years ago.
Scars climbed his neck and disappeared under the jacket. A few swirled along one side of his face. It was still startling to see his full face. When I’d met him, he’d had longer hair that fell around his face to hide some of the scars. I’d been commissioned to draw him, so I was well aware of every angle and scar.
He still was hella intimidating.
I tapped my earbud to silence my music. “Nolan.”
“What are you doing sneaking around here?”
“I didn’t realize you had built onto Trick or Treat.” I mirrored him by pushing my own hands into my jacket pockets. “I noticed while I was running.”
“Since when do you fucking run?” He stepped closer to me. His eyebrows furrowed. “Jesus, what are you wearing?”
I glanced down at my running gear. “Got something against yellow?”
“It’s for bananas and Big Bird.”
I snorted.
“But your chest isn’t right.”
“What? Don’t think I can put on muscle?”
“Fake muscle?”
I unzipped my jacket. “Weighted.”
“Weird.”
“Training.”
“For what? You got a wild hair for one of those bullshit marathons or something?”
“Or something.” I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell him.
Oh, hey, I watched Lyric almost die, and now I want to make sure nothing like that happens ever again.
Yeah, that was fucked up. I knew it, but I didn’t need to telegraph it.
“I haven’t seen you around.” He pulled off his sunglasses and jammed the stem into the neck of his thermal shirt. “Why is that?”
I shrugged. “Had stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Since when do you fucking care?” I winced at the sharpness of the words. Hell. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean it that way.”
Nolan just continued to stare at me.
“Look, I guess it wasn’t working out here.”
“Bullshit.”
“Again, how would you know? You don’t get involved in the store. I only saw you twice in all the time I’ve worked here. And one of those times ended in a damn fire.”
Nolan gave me a bland stare. “Done?”
“This is bullshit. It doesn’t matter.” I made my way around him, and Nolan’s hand shot out to stop me.
“If you don’t want to work here anymore, no skin off my ass. But you’re over here lurking so—spill it.”
“I’m not lurking.” I ripped my arm out of his hold and stumbled on the rocks of the decorative design around the building. Ice had formed on the rocks from rapid melt and refreezing in our shitty January weather.
Nolan’s arm shot out again, but all the hours in the academy had me roll into the fall. I was back up on my feet in a blink. The weight of the vest felt constricting.
This time, Nolan’s eyes blazed with shock followed directly by suspicion. “What the hell, Jensen?”
I ripped at the zipper of my jacket, then at the Velcro of the vest.
He swore. “More fucking yellow.”
I bent at the waist and a laugh rolled out. “Look, man. It just wasn’t working out.”
“My bullshit meter isn’t busted like my face, asshole. What’s the reason?’
I glanced up at him, then I straightened. The weight was easier to tolerate when it wasn’t sitting on my chest. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. I mean, working retail isn’t a dream for most, man. Why Lyric runs the day to day. I know that’s not what I want. Is the art thing kicking in?” He nodded to my vest. “Those fifty pounds of new muscle says it ain’t art to me.”
“Forty.”
“Bet.”
I snorted. “Lyric doesn’t seem to want me around, all right?”
Nolan frowned. “Why not?”
“Maybe I don’t fit the new shit going on. Punk kid in her eyes, maybe.”
Lie.
I knew that wasn’t it.
I was too much of a reminder.
“The new upgrades to this are all you. Hell, you could probably get a booth on the expansion.”
What booth? For what? “Yeah, I don’t know anything about that.”
“Then come inside and don’t be a creeper.”
“You think you can handle my canary yellow?”
“You look like a superhero reject, but yeah. Handily I can hide you in the back.” Then he turned and walked off without checking to see if I followed.
I raked my hands through my hair. “Hell.”
Did I really want to go in there? What if Lyric was inside?
“Hey, is Lyric on today?”
Nolan didn’t answer, just kept walking.
“Fuck,” I muttered and shrugged out of my vest and jacket. I put the jacket back on and slung the vest over my shoulder as I followed him into the front doors of Trick or Treat.
This was not how I’d thought today was going to go.