21. Everything ordinary, everything fragile
Chapter twenty-one
Everything ordinary, everything fragile
Evan
The coffee at the station tastes like it always does. Burnt but strong and reliable. I’m halfway through pouring my second cup into my travel mug when Colt leans back in his chair and tips his chin toward it.
“Didn’t peg you for the reusable thermos life,” he says. “You finally joining the rest of us in adulthood?”
“It was a gift,” I tell him.
“From your five-year-old?”
I don’t answer that, because he already knows from who.
From a woman who screws the lid on extra tight because she’s concerned about it spilling in the truck.
The same woman who sets the coffee timer early enough that the pot finishes brewing right before my alarm goes off.
The one who presses it into my hand at the door, steals a quick kiss, and whispers “be safe” before I leave.
And the one who, despite falling harder for every single day over the past month since the lake, I haven’t uttered the words to yet. But I already know it in my bones.
I know it because I’d stand in the ashes of every bad thing that’s ever happened to me again, if it meant finding Penny still glowing at the end of it.
I pick up the thermos and feel the warmth through the metal, my thumb brushing absent circles against the lid she tightened this morning.
Ghost glances at me over the rim of his own cup. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” Fletch says immediately. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. Like someone who’s regularly getting lai—”
“Don’t,” I cut in.
He grins wider. “—emotionally fulfilled.”
Colt barks a laugh. “Emotionally fulfilled. Jesus.”
Fletch leans forward on his elbows. “I’m just sayin’. You’ve got that look, like a man who’s had his lunch packed and his feelings validated.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, taking another sip and resting back in my chair.
The teasing rolls off easier than it used to, and I don’t feel like I have to guard it as much. I just let them talk.
Morning light filters through the rec room windows, catching dust in the air. Beck’s out front, going over the engine like he doesn’t trust any of us to do it properly, and Ghost’s scrolling something on his phone, only half-listening.
Everything feels calm.
A few months ago, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waking up with a head full of to-dos, and bracing for more shit and struggles. Counting the ways things could go sideways before breakfast. I don’t wake up like that anymore.
I wake up with the weight of Penny curled into my side, with her hair everywhere and a leg thrown over mine. I wake up to Elle’s footsteps down the hallway and her happy laughter. Music.
The house feels full, and it’s a dangerous kind of comfortable, the kind where I want to suspend everything in time, just as it is. That makes you want to hold it in both hands and refuse to let anything touch it.
I drag my hand over my jaw and force my focus back to the room.
“So, Maplewood Cup’s only a few weeks off,” Colt says. “You playing or pretending your knee still hurts?”
I swing my leg back and forth. “My knee does still hurt.”
“Sure it does.”
“How’d you do that again, Prince?” Fletch asks, waggling his eyebrows. “Was it during a highly competitive athletic maneuver, or during—”
“I swear to God, Fletcher.”
Ghost smirks faintly. “He’s got better things to do now.”
Yeah, like my girlfriend.
A bell goes, but it’s not an alarm or the tones—it’s the station phone.
The old landline on the wall. It doesn’t get used much anymore, not for any kind of emergency at least. But the partners of the firefighters here know it’s a quick way to talk to one of the crew if we’re not on callout, because we’re not always by our cells.
Colt reaches for it first. “Maplewood FD.”
There’s a beat, then his expression shifts, just slightly.
“Whoa, Rem. Slow down. Okay, okay—” He looks at me, then holds out the phone. “Remi.”
I push back from the table and cross the room, taking the receiver from him. Something tightens low in my gut before I even take the phone.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she says, and I hear a carefulness that makes my shoulders go tight before she even gets to the point. “Don’t panic.”
My grip tightens automatically. “I’m not panicking.”
Yet.
“I might be wrong,” she says quickly. “But I just left Flora’s, and I swear I just saw Stacey.”
That name lands like a drop in cold water. For a second, everything inside me goes very still.
“Where?” My voice comes out even.
“Across the street, near the old pharmacy. She ducked into that dingy motel parking lot. I didn’t get close enough to be sure, but—”
“But you’re sure,” I finish.
“I think so.”
I close my eyes.
“How long ago?”
“Five minutes.”
“She see you?”
“I don’t think so.”
I nod, even though she can’t see it. “Okay. Thanks for calling.”
“I figured you’d wanna know.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
I hang up and stand there for a second, receiver still in my hand. Colt’s still on his feet, Ghost’s watching me without blinking, and Fletch’s mouth is hanging open.
Beck steps back inside from the bay, wiping grease from his hands. His eyes move between the crew, then settle on me.
“What’s happened?”
“Remi thinks she saw Stacey,” I say.
Colt swears under his breath, and Ghost and Fletch look at each other, but Beck doesn’t react outwardly, apart from his eyes sharpening.
“She’s here?” Fletch says. “In town?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s not a maybe,” Ghost mutters. “If Remi saw her, she’s here.”
I swallow thickly, because I agree. Remi’s not the type to make calls like that unless she’s absolutely sure. I pull my phone from my pocket.
Me: Where are you? Is Elle with you?
Penny: At home. Elle’s in the backyard with Gus. Everything okay?
I exhale slowly through my nose, the room already feeling smaller than it did five minutes ago.
Colt’s pacing now. “She doesn’t get to just show up like that.”
“Technically, she can show up,” Beck says evenly. “Doesn’t mean she gets anything, though.”
Ghost’s eyes are still on me. “Shall we head over there?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
My phone starts vibrating in my hand, and I step out into the bay to answer it, the cool air hitting my face as I push through the bay doors.
“Hey, babe,” Penny says. “You good?”
“You’re home?”
“Yeah. Why are you asking me like that?”
I look out at the street, squinting at nothing in particular, jaw tightening.
“Remi thinks she saw Stacey.”
There’s a pause on the other end.
“Oh.”
“Across from Flora’s, near an old motel.”
There’s another pause, and she’s quieter this time. “Okay.”
“Please keep Elle close today,” I add. “Just until I know for sure.”
“Okay, I’ll go get her to come inside.”
I hesitate. “Thanks.”
“Evan,” she says softly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
It’s not a lie, it’s just not the whole truth either.
“Should… should I text you if anything happens or anyone shows up?”
That idea alone makes my stomach drop.
“Don’t answer the door unless you know who it is,” I say, aware my voice is gruffer than I intend.
“Okay.” Her breath is louder down the line, and I can tell she must be moving through the house to the back door. “I’m gonna go get Elle inside now.”
“Thanks, Pen.”
“Evan, I… I—” She stops herself, and something inside me tightens.
“Penny…” I swallow, unable to finish.
“I know,” she says quickly. “I just—call me if you need to, okay? I’m right here.”
I end the call without replying and stand there for a moment. Behind me, I can feel the boys watching through the open doors, waiting for whatever comes next.
My life felt steady less than an hour ago. Now, there’s a crack running through it I can’t quite see yet, but I can feel it.
And my first instinct is to protect them. Both of them.
The rest of the day runs the way it always does. Routine checks, a minor callout for a fender bender on Main. Paperwork. Banter that comes in short bursts and dies just as quickly.
Nobody brings Stacey up again, but she sits there anyway, in the pauses and the shared looks. In the way Colt watches me a second longer than usual, and how Fletch doesn’t crack another joke at my expense.
By the time I clock off, my shoulders are tight. The drive home feels longer than it is, and I catch myself scanning sidewalks and parks. I drive past the motel Remi mentioned, even though it’s not on my route. Every unfamiliar car looks suspicious for half a second before logic catches up.
When I pull into the driveway, everything looks the same. Gus barks once from inside, and the porch light flicks on, the front door opening before I even reach it.
Penny’s there, waiting.
“Hey.” She leans in, her hand gliding along my jaw to peck me quickly before stepping back. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I let my eyes travel over her face, cataloguing. “Now I am.”
The smell of something roasting hits me as I walk into the dining room. Elle’s at the table with her workbook open, tongue tucked into the corner of her mouth while she writes. Gus is loudly sniffing up crumbs from around the base of her chair, his tail thumping once when he sees me.
“Daddy!” Elle says, hopping off her seat and launching herself at my legs.
I catch her automatically and lift her up, breathing her in. She smells like crayons and shampoo, and I squeeze her tighter against me, savoring her giggle. Everything is exactly as it should be, and for a second, I almost convince myself that maybe Remi was wrong.
I set Elle down and glance at Penny. She holds my gaze, then gestures over her shoulder.
“Kitchen?” she suggests.
My eyes dart to Elle, happily sitting back with her workbook and crayons, and I nod. She follows me in, busying herself for a moment by taking a pot off the stovetop, then turns to me.
“So?”
“Remi’s pretty sure it was her,” I say. “Near the motel on Main.”
Penny absorbs that, a small crease between her brows. “Okay.”
“She didn’t approach Remi or try to say hi, though.”
“Has she called you?” Penny asks.
“No.”
“Has she called Elle’s school?”
“No.”
She nods again. “Do you think she’ll come here?”
“I don’t know.”