When Sparks Fly (Pinegrove FD #1)

PROLOGUE

One month earlier

W hitney Kerr lounged on the couch in her sister’s cramped apartment. She’d managed the perfect placement for her afternoon of self-loathing. Four purple fluffy cushions surrounded her, a blanket draped over her legs. Perched on her tummy was a bowl of popcorn, a package of peanut butter cups, and bag of M he would not break down—or break anything—in front of the chief. Nope, he would do what he could to save his dignity.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, standing up to his full height and squaring his shoulders.

“No, son, urm, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed. Take the rest of the day off.”

Trevor’s shoulders slumped. “I’m working on those arson reports. I thought Javi and I were ...” But his words faltered, mentioning his buddy and coworker in a tone more suitable to a whiny teenager. Clearing his throat, he amended, “It was my understanding those reports had a deadline of ...”

Chief Warren shook his head, muttering something under his breath that was mostly profanities. “Lieutenant, Captain Hastings has asked that we shift the team around. All that logistics can wait a day. Why don’t you go home, have a drink, and blow off some steam?”

Gritting his teeth, Trevor tried to ignore the bile rising up his throat. He didn’t want to drink his feelings—although the option was tempting—he wanted to work. But judging from the chief’s sullen expression, that wasn’t an option.

Trevor nodded once and left the office, anger coursing through his veins. If his father were alive, he would no doubt be disappointed that his son’s career was stagnant. It was humiliating at best, soul-crushing at worst.

Smoothing down the front of his uniform shirt, Trevor stalked out into the bullpen. He made sure to avoid eye contact with his coworkers, as their pitying looks would only push him over the edge.

Things needed to change around here, and fast. Trevor didn’t know how much longer he could pretend everything was okay.