Caleb
"Mr. Wyatt, this is Councilman Burke. I wanted to touch base about the situation with the water main discovery."
Situation. Like it's a misunderstanding rather than a serious infrastructure issue that could've caused catastrophic failure.
"We've been reviewing the documentation your consultant provided," he continues, emphasis on your consultant like it's somehow my fault she's good at her job.
"We're concerned about timeline implications.
Perhaps we've reached a point where the project can proceed under your direct supervision without additional consulting fees. "
And there it is. They want her gone.
"Ms. Black's oversight is critical to this project," I say, my voice hardening. "She's caught multiple issues that would've cost the city significantly more than her fees. Removing her at this stage would be shortsighted, at best."
"That's a strong accusation."
"It's an accurate assessment. If you're calling to tell me her contract's being terminated, I need you to understand I will document my opposition officially. I will not sign off on any work that proceeds without adequate safety oversight, and I will make my concerns public if necessary."
The silence that follows is loaded. "Let's not be hasty," Burke finally says.
"Not a threat," I correct. "A statement of professional boundaries. I'm responsible for the safety of everyone on this site. Ms. Black helps me fulfill that responsibility. Removing her compromises it."
He hangs up without saying goodbye. I just put my job on the line for her contract, and the realization should scare me more than it does. All I feel is grim satisfaction at finally saying out loud what I've been thinking for weeks.
Gus calls minutes later. "Heard you just told Burke to go to hell."
"Something like that."
"Good. Your consultant's been doing good work, and trying to remove her is political bullshit." His voice turns serious. "You should tell her you went to bat for her. Women like to know when you're willing to fight for them."
When Rena shows up at my place that evening, I tell her over dinner prep. "Burke called, he was fishing to see if I'd support removing you. I told him that would be negligent, that I wouldn't sign off without adequate safety oversight, and I'd make my objections public if necessary."
She sets down the wine bottle carefully. "You threatened to go public?"
"I stated my position."
"Caleb, you could lose your job over this."
"So could you. But I'm not going to stand by while they try to remove you for doing your job correctly. That's not negotiable."
Something complicated works through her expression. "You're really willing to risk your job for this. For me."
"For what's right. Which includes supporting you, yeah. But it's also about refusing to compromise on safety because politicians find it inconvenient."
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For having my back when you didn't have to."
I pull her close. "I'll always have your back. That's what this is."
Later, in bed, she speaks into the darkness. "What if they fire you?"
"Then I'll find another job. What if they fire you?"
"Then I'll find another project. Probably in another state."
The words hang there, heavy with implications we can't ignore anymore.
"We need to talk about this," I say. "About what happens if one or both of us loses this job. About what we are and what we want this to be."
"I know," she whispers. "I'm just scared of wanting this too much. Of letting it matter so much that losing it would break something I can't fix."
I turn so we're facing each other. "That fear? That's what tells you it matters. I'd rather have something real and dangerous than something safe and empty."
She's quiet for a long moment, then her hand finds mine under the covers.
"Okay," she finally says. "Let's be real and dangerous together."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Whatever happens with the jobs, whatever the city decides, let's figure it out together instead of separately."
Relief washes through me, sharp and profound. That's all I wanted to hear.