Chapter 13
The tight hold around my heart releases when Elena starts to laugh. The sound is so free that I can’t help but join her. I let go of the tension I was holding right after that stupid remark slipped out. What did I expect? For Elena to argue that it was a date? I shake my head.
But why did she seem so hurt? No, she wasn’t hurt, right? I probably crossed the line between professionalism and intimacy a bit too far, something she seems to draw out of me.
“It is hard though, isn’t it?” I muse after I catch my breath, “to find people who understand the importance of what you do. Even if it isn’t important to them.”
Elena’s eyes grow a little darker and she frowns. Then she nods once, in agreement, followed by a noncommittal hum.
“It is the same for me. The women I’ve dated never understood why I immerse myself in the topics and research so much. Why I want to feel it rather than hear it.”
Her eyebrow lifts briefly at the mention of my exes, but her face falls slightly as I continue. Gosh, I make her feel like a job. She doesn’t realize how much more this is to me.
“But,” I stumble quickly, “I’ve always kept it professional. This,” I gesture between her and me, “is new.”
Her frown deepens and she stares at me intensely.
“Is that a good thing?” She breathes in a low voice, her gaze unbroken.
“I hope so,” I admit quietly as crimson colors my cheeks. “I really do.”
Before she can reply, one of the waiters shows up at our table. His smile is warm and wide.
“Can I get you ladies some dessert?”
I hesitate, lifting my eyes to meet Elena’s. Does she still want to spend time with me after my confession? Hardly a confession, Maya. Don’t make it bigger than it was. But Elena just nods curtly at the waiter.
“The lava cake.” Her voice is flat and clipped again.
The waiter nods with a bigger smile now.
“Shall I bring an extra spoon for your girlfriend?”
The words hang in the air, suspended like cotton. My breath catches in my chest and I feel my cheeks burn. Elena’s eyes quickly flick to mine, and then back to the waiter.
“Yes.”
My heart is hammering against my chest and I feel a slight tremor in my fingers. My chest is coiled and I need to force a gulp of air down before my lungs can expand again. The waiter nods, humming in pleasure as he turns on his heels. Elena just grins at me, her eyes shining bright.
“Hope you like chocolate, babe.”
When she chuckles, something breaks open in me. She is enjoying this. I release the air I held through my nose and close my eyes for a brief moment. I let a grin spread over my face and shake my head in disbelief. Did that really just happen?
***
The streets glisten from the rain, making the lights sparkle in reflection. Elena and I walk side by side through the city. Our steps are slow, like neither of us is willing to end this night, but all too soon we find ourselves in front of my apartment building.
I gaze up at her, just as her lips part.
For a moment I hope she wants to come inside.
Maybe I should invite her, but she just leans forward and softly kisses my cheek.
Her body radiates warmth and her hand feels strong against my shoulder.
For a brief moment I close my eyes and inhale her scent.
A faint hint of sandalwood tickles my nose, and I smile.
It fits her, the smoky, woody smell. Natural and grounding like her.
I sigh softly as she moves back and looks at me. Again, her lips part before she frowns slightly and smiles.
“I had a wonderful evening,” she says in a low voice.
“Me too,” I reply softly while looking into her dark, stormy eyes.
Her hand twitches and for a moment I think she is going to cup my cheek, but then she steps away from me. Her body taut and her spine straight. She nods once, like she ends this part of our conversation. Her face an immovable mask again.
“See you Monday at nine, Carter. Bring workout clothes. We will get you fit.”
She nods again, and then turns around on her heels to stride away. I am left dumbfounded and stay frozen in place, long after Elena disappeared from sight, but not from my mind.
***
She doesn’t text me, doesn’t call me, doesn’t acknowledge me, and by Sunday it becomes too much. I snatch my phone from the coffee table and flex my jaw before I type out a message.
14:11 Maya Carter –
Hey, I really enjoyed Friday. Thank you for that.
I stare at the message and immediately hate myself for being weak and caving.
Elena clearly made a point when she dropped me off at the apartment.
This thing should stay purely professional.
And she was right to do so, of course she was.
I don’t know why I even indulged myself in believing it could be something more.
You are a sucker for punishment, and she is unavailable.
Of course you are into that. I clench my teeth again and type out another message.
14:13 Maya Carter –
Do you have time on Monday to sit with me for our first real interview? I’d like to ask some questions so I can start shaping this article.
Thanks.
I have used those words in different variations often enough, but this time they feel distant and cold as I press send.
I throw the phone back on the table. Tears spring into my eyes and I bite my lip.
This fucking crush. It is too much. I clutch my chest and startle as my phone buzzes hard against the glass.
14:18 E. Gonzales –
Friday was good. Let’s meet Monday at 8 a.m. sharp.
I stare at the text, blinking. No joke, no jab, no warmth. Just as curt and professional as the first day we met. Like my text before hers. I swallow as I realize we are right back where we started, but at least this time she doesn’t seem to hate me.
With a deep sigh I stretch my body off the couch and walk over to my desk. Time to read through my notes and prepare my questions. Perhaps Elena will actually answer a few of them this time.
***
I am already seated at the long table in the cantina when Elena sinks into the chair next to me. My gaze automatically scans her face and I see dark smudges under her usually sparkling eyes. Her mouth is set in a thin line, and her hair is tied back so tight that I feel it in my own roots.
“El, are you okay?” I ask as I brush my fingers against her wrist.
Her head snaps up and she snatches her arm back as if I burned her.
“I’m fine. Didn’t sleep much,” she barks.
She pushes her chair back so suddenly that it scrapes over the floor with a high screech. I flinch and stare at her. For a brief moment my response seems to startle her, but then she rolls her shoulders back and walks to the kitchen.
“Coffee?” She growls more than she asks.
I shake my head, afraid to make too much of a sound.
She just shrugs and pours out the last remains from the pot.
Her fingers move quickly and nimbly as she inserts a new filter and measures the ground beans.
All that time, she keeps her back turned toward me, leaving me in silence.
I stare at her, uncertain about what I did wrong this time.
My fingers twitch in my lap as I contemplate reaching out to her, but I know that might do more harm than good.
So, I remain quiet, as I observe Elena’s movements. Harsh, cutting, direct.
After a few minutes, the coffee begins to drip and she sinks back into the chair in front of me, waiting impatiently for there to be enough in the pot. Her eyes dart to mine, before she closes them briefly and nods.
“Ask your questions.”
My voice trembles as I ask her if she is sure. “We can always do it another time.”
“No time like the present, Carter. Go.”
I swallow, nod, and reach into my side pocket for my little notebook. Then I fish out my voice recorder and put it on the table in front of us. Elena’s eyes dart to it immediately and her posture stiffens.
“Do you mind? It helps me stay focused on our conversation, and lets me go back if I need to check things,” I ask softly.
Her eyes find mine again and her jaw ticks. Her fingers curl and her lips part as if she is going to say something. Then she frowns so quickly that I almost miss it.
“Sure, go ahead.”
I startle at the coldness in her voice and swallow hard.
She holds my stare with a ferocity that makes me tremble, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to crumble.
She seems so angry with me. Should I have texted her sooner, or worse…
invited her in? Her eyes travel over my face, and I see something behind them.
Hurt? Her mask slams back into place before I can find out.
“Don’t interviews usually have questions?”
Elena’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and the sharpness behind her words cuts deep into my chest. I nod sheepishly and press record, before looking at my little notebook.
“El, you lead your crew into dangerous territory quite steadily. How do you stay calm in all that chaos?”
She tenses at my use of her nickname, the one she liked only a week ago. You fucking idiot. I feel the tears spring to my eyes and I have to press my nails into my palms to keep them from spilling. Elena tilts her head and inhales deeply.
“It’s training. Hours and hours of practice.
When you call the shots, you don’t have the luxury of letting fear overpower your thoughts.
My crew looks to me, and it is my job to keep them safe.
So, I manage my breathing, my speech, and my thinking.
One decision at a time. The fear is there, but it doesn’t get to drive. ”
Her answer is calm and collected. It tells a lot about her and who she is, how she operates. More than that, it’s helpful for my article. It’s just also… layered with frost. I run my tongue over my lip and nod. Her eyes quickly dart to my mouth, before she lifts them to meet mine again.
“Do you ever doubt your own orders?” My voice is soft now, tentative almost.
Elena looks at me for a moment, the only sound being the rain that crashes down on the roof, before she scoffs.
“I don’t get the luxury of acting on fear. I don’t get the luxury of doubt. We are surrounded by smoke, have flames curling around us, and have people screaming into our earpieces. I have to trust my instincts. If I hesitate, people can die. People will die.”
I nod, understanding her perfectly well. “But, after?” I add quickly.
“After?” Her eyes flash to me and her jaw ticks once.
“Yes. There are nights I lie awake, wondering if I made the wrong call. I go over it and over it in my head, wondering if I should have pulled out my crew faster, or not have sent them in at all. I study those situations and learn from them. I need to ask these questions. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be fit to lead. ”
“So how do you decide who goes in then, and who stays outside?”
Elena frowns, almost confused at my question. She keeps her gaze on me as she answers, slowly and deliberately.
“I don’t. It’s a matter of speed. Whoever moves fastest or is closest gets to go in.
If they don’t have enough air, they stay out.
If they are trained for a specific threat, they go in.
If they are overwhelmed, they get to cool off.
It’s not about choice. It’s about knowing my team.
” She leans forward, boring her eyes into mine.
“When I send somebody in, I have to trust they come back. That’s my responsibility. ”
Her eyes don’t leave mine, but she pauses for a moment. The tension suddenly coils. I part my lips, uncertain if I should speak or not, when she tilts her head and scoffs again.
“You called me a hero. That’s not what I am. I am the one responsible when the comm line goes dead. The one holding that silence.”
I gasp for air as her words hit me like a punch. What I thought was just playful banter is now being tossed back at my feet with disdain. From a woman running so cold, she could out-freeze a polar vortex. My lip trembles as I nod and lower my eyes.
“Was that all?” Her voice is clipped.
I nod and reach for my recorder. There are at least a dozen more questions I wanted to ask her, but I can’t bear her scrutiny any longer. I push my chair back, suddenly feeling sick. The air in the cantina feels too hot, too stuffy, and I need to get out. I need to get away from her.
“Excuse me,” I breathe, as I rush for the iron stairs.
Elena only arches her eyebrow, but doesn’t follow me. Instead, she gets up to get her coffee, like nothing has happened.