Chapter 10 #2
Lena had gone to her superior. Behind her back. After their fight on Friday, after Erin had explicitly told her to back off and let her do her job, Lena had called Hallie to express concerns about Erin's competence.
Not because of incompetence. Not because of poor judgment or reckless behavior. Because Lena was scared, and instead of trusting Erin to know her own job, she'd decided to protect her from it.
Overprotectiveness was hard enough to handle, but this was straight-up career sabotage.
With one phone call, Lena had managed to not just undermine her but confirmed everything that Erin had feared from the beginning: that no one would ever see her as anything more than the young fire marshal who needed supervision.
Erin's hands trembled as she started the truck. The engine turned over with a roar that matched the fury building in her chest. She pulled out her phone and found Lena's contact, her thumb hovering over the call button.
No. This needed to be face to face.
Lena's house was fifteen minutes away. She had fifteen minutes to decide what she was going to say, how she was going to handle this, and whether this was the end of everything they'd been building.
But as she pulled out of the fire station parking lot, Erin already knew. This conversation couldn't wait. This betrayal couldn't fester inside of her.
Some fights were worth having. Some things were worth fighting for, and some things were worth fighting about.
And if Lena Soto thought she could undermine Erin's career while claiming to care about her, she was about to learn exactly how wrong she was.
She drove to Lena’s house on autopilot and let herself get lost in her thoughts. Residential streets lined with oak trees, neighbors walking dogs, the peaceful rhythm of a day off—all of it a stark contrast to the storm building in Erin's chest.
She parked in Lena's driveway behind the detective's car and sat for a moment, engine ticking as it cooled.
Once she knocked on that door, there would be no taking any of this back.
No pretending she didn't know about the conversation with Hallie, no protecting what they'd built from the truth of what Lena had done.
But there was no going back anyway. The damage was already done.
Erin got out of the truck and walked to the front door, her knock sharp and demanding in the Sunday morning quiet.
The door opened before Erin's knock finished echoing. Lena stood there in weekend clothes—soft leggings and a gray sweater that made her look approachable, almost vulnerable. For a split second, surprise flickered across her face, followed quickly by something that looked like resignation.
She knew why Erin was here.
"You went to Captain Hallie." The words came out flat, deadly calm. No greeting, no pretense. Erin stepped past Lena into the house without waiting for an invitation to enter.
Lena closed the door slowly behind her, the soft click somehow ominous in the sudden quiet. When she turned around, her detective mask was already sliding into place, that careful, neutral expression Erin had seen her use with suspects and witnesses. "Erin, let me explain—"
"Friday afternoon." Erin's voice cut through whatever excuse Lena was forming. "After our fight, after I told you to back off and let me do my job, you called my boss."
The living room felt different than it had a week ago when they'd sat on the couch sharing takeout, when the biggest complication in their relationship had been whether to file disclosure forms. Now every piece of furniture felt like a barrier, every familiar detail a reminder of what Lena had already destroyed.
"I was concerned about your safety," Lena said, but the words came out rehearsed, like she'd been practicing this explanation. "The chemical fire was different, more dangerous than anything we've seen—"
"My safety." Erin's laugh was sharp enough to cut glass. "Is that what you're going with?"
She could see Lena's jaw tighten, a tell she'd learned to read over weeks of working together and watching this woman's face across crime scenes and conference rooms and her own kitchen table. Frustration, maybe guilt, definitely defensiveness.
"The accelerants at Rainbow Alliance were more sophisticated than anything we've encountered at the other fires," Lena continued, and Erin could hear her slipping into detective mode, presenting facts like evidence. "The structural damage, the toxic exposure levels—"
"I know what I saw at that scene." The fury was building now, fed by every careful, professional phrase that Lena had clearly intended to disarm her with. "I know what I'm trained to handle. What I apparently don't know is how to make you trust that I can do my damn job."
"This isn't about trust—"
"This is exactly about trust!" Erin's voice rose, echoing off the walls she'd told Lena that she’d help her paint once the case was closed.
"I told you Friday that I needed you to let me do my job without hovering.
And your response was to go to my superior and tell her I'm taking unnecessary risks. "
Something shifted in Lena's expression—surprise, maybe, that Erin knew the specific language that had been used. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. "I never said you were incompetent—"
"You didn't have to." The words tasted bitter. "You said I was taking unnecessary risks with my thorough investigative style. Do you have any idea what that sounds like to someone who's spent six years proving she belongs in this job?"
Lena was quiet for a moment, and Erin could practically see the wheels turning, trying to find the right combination of words to make this better. But there weren't any right words, and the silence just made the betrayal feel heavier.
"I was scared," Lena said finally, and her voice was softer now, almost pleading. "When I saw you assessing that building so close to the fire, when I heard the structure creaking—"
"So you decided to get me benched."
"That's not what I was trying to do."
"Then what?" Erin stepped closer, her hands clenched at her sides to keep them from shaking. "What exactly were you trying to accomplish by going behind my back to my boss?"
Lena looked away, toward the window where the morning light was streaming in like everything was normal, like Erin's world wasn't falling apart. When she spoke, she wouldn't meet Erin's eyes.
"I thought maybe Hallie could talk to you," she said, and the words sounded small and insufficient. "Maybe she could make you understand the risks you were taking—"
"Make me understand?" Erin's voice cracked on the question. "Lena, I'm a fire marshal. Understanding risks is literally what I do for a living."
"But you're also—" Lena stopped herself, but not quickly enough.
"I'm also what?" The question hung in the air. "Young? Inexperienced? Trying to prove something?"
"I didn't say that."
"Didn’t you? That's what you handed Hallie.
You confirmed every doubt anyone's ever had about whether I deserve this position.
" Erin could feel tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to fall, but she pushed them back with pure fury.
She refused to break down here. "Every insecurity I've carried since I got promoted, every assumption people make about the young female fire marshal who must not know what she's doing. "
"That's not what I think about you." But Lena's voice lacked conviction, and she was still looking everywhere except at Erin.
"Isn't it?" Erin moved closer, and she could see Lena’s body tense like she was facing down a suspect. "Because you went to my supervisor and told her I was taking unnecessary risks. In what universe is that not questioning my professional judgment?"
Finally, Lena looked at her directly, and Erin could see the fear there—not fear of the fires or the job, but fear of this conversation and of where it was inevitably heading. "I was trying to protect you."
"From what?" The question came out louder than Erin intended, but she was past caring about volume control. "From doing the job I love? From being good at something? From making my own decisions about my own safety?"
"From getting hurt!" Lena's composure finally cracked, her voice rising to match Erin's. "From walking into a building that could collapse and getting yourself killed because you're too stubborn to admit when something's too dangerous!"
The words hung between them like a verdict. Erin was too stubborn; the job was too dangerous. Everything Erin had feared Lena really thought about her professional judgment, laid bare.
"There it is," Erin said quietly, and her voice was steadier now, the steadiness of someone who had just watched something precious shatter beyond repair. "You think I'm reckless."
"I think you're brave to the point of being careless sometimes." Lena's detective mask was gone now, replaced by something raw and desperate. "I think your need to prove yourself makes you take risks that—"
"Stop." Erin held up a hand, and Lena's words died mid-sentence. "Just stop."
The room felt too small suddenly, the walls closing in on everything they'd built and destroyed in the space of ten minutes. Erin could feel her heart hammering against her ribs, and she could taste copper from where she'd bitten her tongue to keep from screaming or crying or both.
"You think I'm careless," she said, testing the words, letting them settle. "You think I take unnecessary risks because I need to prove myself."
"Erin, that's not—"
"It's exactly what you think. You just said so.
" Erin was moving toward the door now, each step deliberate.
"And you know what? I can't be with someone who sees me that way.
I can't build a relationship with someone who thinks so little of my judgment that they'd go behind my back to my boss instead of trusting me to know my own job. "
"Please don't do this." Lena's voice was small and quiet now, but Erin could hear the panic underneath. "We can work through this. I can try to—"