Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
NICK
“ H enderson. My office.”
Ah, shit.
I pause inventorying the PPE and follow Chief to his office, ignoring Mark’s look of pity directed my way. I’ve been dreading this meeting, but thought I’d have more time.
Chief takes a seat behind his polished wooden desk, folding his hands over his midsection, and calmly waits for me to take the seat opposite him.
I hate sitting in this chair. It reminds me of the first time I came here, fresh out of juvie and scared out of my mind about what he was going to make me do for my community service punishment.
“You want to tell me what happened this afternoon?”
I swallow hard. His voice is even, but there’s a glint in his eye I’m all too familiar with. “I wrote a report—”
“I read it,” he interrupts. “But what I want to hear about is the part where you responded to a call like a bat out of hell. No protective gear. No communication with your partner or dispatch. No tools. What were you thinking?”
My chin drops to my chest. “I wasn’t, sir. I’m sorry.”
He’s silent, waiting for more.
“I acted on instinct,” I continue haltingly. That terrible instant when Sydney said there was a fire at the bakery. Thinking Rachel was trapped in it. Needing more than anything to get there as soon as possible to check for myself that she wasn’t.
Even if it wasn’t logical.
Even if she hates me.
“I can’t explain it. When I heard it was the bakery, I…”
Words fail me.
Chief sighs, but remains quiet.
Even knowing it’s a tactic he uses to get others to talk, I can’t help asking, “Am I suspended?”
He gives a second sigh. “No, you’re not. If this happened anywhere but the bakery…”
He lets that hang in the air. He of all people knows how much I’ve tried to atone for my past.
“It won’t happen again, right?”
“Absolutely not.” I only have to make a mistake one time to learn from it.
He nods, as if the matter is settled. Thank God. I hate disappointing him. Even so…
“What’s my punishment?” There’s no way I’m off the hook that easy.
One side of his mouth lifts in the smallest grin. If I hadn’t worked with him for so long, I don’t think I’d have recognized it.
“Henry is leaving in a few weeks.”
That’s not news. Everyone knows he’s moving to Pittsburgh to be a captain at a station there. There’s not much room for advancement here in Aurora. We’re lucky we have enough full-time staff as we do.
“Okay…” I’m not sure where he’s going with this.
“And he’s in charge of fundraising.”
My stomach drops. No. Oh, hell no. “You can’t be serious.”
“You know anyone else that can do it?”
My mouth opens, then shuts. Jamal could… No, he’d be terrible at it. Maybe Mark… No, he’d be even worse. Miguel or Daniel… Shit.
“You’re it, kid,” Chief says. “I’ve run through the possibilities myself and you’re our best bet.”
I blink stupidly at him. If I’m our best bet, what does that say for the future of our station?
“But we need money. If I screw this up—”
“You won’t. You’re organized, you pay attention to details, you have good ideas. You can do it.”
I shake my head, sinking into my seat at his kind words. I thought I’d be getting a dressing down coming in here, not all this praise. I’m not sure which I’d like better.
“Henry is extroverted,” I say, making a last-ditch effort. “He schmoozes and gets people to give us money. They like him.”
Some people can’t forget what I did when I was fifteen years old. They’ll never respond to me the same way.
“You could—”
“Nope.” His voice is kind, but firm. “I have too much else to do. Listen, you’ll learn as you go. And I’ll be here if you have questions. I’m not throwing you straight in the deep end.”
That’s exactly what he’s doing. But he’s right that no one else at the station is a good fit, either.
This is going to be a fucking shit show.
“And I have your first task for you.” His smirk is more obvious now.
So he’s been planning this. It isn’t a punishment for what happened earlier. He just knows I feel guilty about it, so I won’t cause a fuss.
“What is it?” I ask, heavy with weariness.
“Go pick up an order at Aurora Bakery tomorrow.”
What? That’s it?
Then again, he knows I avoid the bakery like the plague.
“Okay… What for?” Is this a personal errand or something?
“The elementary school is coming in for their annual station tour. The bakery donates five hundred cookies for it every year.”
Oh, the station tour. I’m not scheduled to work tomorrow, so it slipped my mind.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
I can see Rachel two days in a row when I haven’t talked to her in years.
No problem.
The bell above the door tinkles merrily as I enter the bakery, a detail I missed yesterday in my mad rush. It’s cozy in here, with rustic wooden shelves bracketing either side of a huge glass display case filled with treats. My mouth waters eyeing the flaky croissants and frosted fudge brownies.
I’d never been in here before yesterday. Even before the fire twelve years ago, my family wasn’t the type to buy luxuries like freshly baked sweets. And afterward, I wouldn’t have dared to come in and piss off the Blackwells with my presence.
“Nick.”
The voice isn’t quite—
I curb my knee-jerk disappointment when I make eye contact with Hailey behind the counter. She has the same dark hair as Rachel, although brown eyes instead of hazel, and she’s not quite as tall. All three sisters look a lot alike, but neither Hailey nor Sydney are as pretty as Rachel.
Not that I’m biased.
Actually, it’s a good thing Rachel’s not out here. Less of a chance I’ll make a complete idiot of myself.
“Did you need to follow up about the fire?” She points toward the double doors that lead to the kitchen area. “Rachel already made some calls about the oven.”
“No. I’m here to pick up the order for the fire station.”
She gives me a blank look. “What order?”
“It’s for five hundred cookies.”
Her eyes widen in alarm before she taps at the terminal in front of her. “Um, just a second. I don’t remember seeing an order for that, but let me double check.”
Chief said today, right? He wouldn’t make it up as part of my punishment, would he?
The doors to the back open, and Rachel walks through, carrying a large tray of cinnamon rolls slathered with cream cheese frosting and fruit danishes drizzled with icing sugar. Oh man, those look good.
Rachel stops in mid-stride when she notices me, the tray wavering in her hands.
I move automatically to help her stabilize it, but I’m nowhere near close enough. Thankfully, Hailey grabs the edge before everything spills to the floor.
“Sorry.” Rachel shakes her head, staring down at the pastries. “What are you doing here?”
Though she isn’t looking at me, it’s obvious who she’s talking to. “I’m picking up an order for the fire station.”
“Do you remember seeing an order for five hundred cookies?” Hailey whispers to her sister.
Rachel blinks rapidly at her. “Five hundred?” She turns to me. “For what?”
I startle, getting caught up for a moment in her eyes, flecked with hints of green and gold. “The elementary school station tour today. Chief said your parents donate them every year.”
Her face falls, lips pursing. “Ah. My parents.”
A similar dawning of comprehension appears on Hailey’s face. “Let me call them.”
“No, I’ll—”
Rachel stops mid-sentence when Hailey disappears in the back.
“Sorry about this,” she says. “We’re not normally this disorganized.”
“It’s fine.” I stick my hands in my pockets, unsure what to do with them. “Do you need help with…”
“Oh.” She looks down at the tray still in her hands. “Right. Let me put these away.”
Sliding open the back of the glass display case, she fills two empty rows with the pastries.
“Could I have one of those?” I motion to the last danish on her tray. “That one there?”
She looks at the danish, then at me. “I have to charge you.”
“Yeah, of course. That’s what I meant. I didn’t expect you to just give it to me.”
I force myself to stop rambling. God, could this be any more awkward?
She rings me up and hands me the golden-brown pastry in a paper sleeve, still warm to the touch. It glistens with a light sheen of butter and sugar, tiny flakes breaking away to hint at the layers within.
She goes back to fiddling with the pastry case and I take that as my cue that she doesn’t want to talk anymore. Chief sure called it when he made this part of my punishment.
I take a huge bite of the danish for something to do, and it practically melts in my mouth, crumbling with the perfect balance of crispness and sweetness, followed by a burst of tangy raspberry. Oh, fuck, that’s good.
Rachel makes a sound of amusement and I look over at her, surprised at the slight smile on her face. I don’t think she’s ever smiled around me.
“What?” I ask, bits of danish escaping my mouth. I quickly wipe them away and stuff the half-eaten pastry back in its sleeve.
She gestures toward me. “You made a funny sound.”
Shit. What did I do now? “I did?”
She nods. “Like you were having a… private moment with the danish.”
“Oh.” Heat touches my cheeks briefly. “I guess I was. It’s amazing.”
She gives me a brief nod. “Thanks.”
“You made it?”
She makes a sound of affirmation. “Yeah. I’ve been working on perfecting the recipe lately, actually.”
“Well, you have a winner. I’ve never had one this good.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Where do you normally get yours? I’ve never seen you in here.”
“The grocery store.”
Her immediate tsk is so loud, it’s almost comical. “Oh, no. They don’t even have a proper bakery. Danishes are meant to be experienced freshly baked. It’s not worth it otherwise.”
I keep my smile to myself at her passionate outburst. It’s the most she’s ever spoken to me.
“Now I know.” I take a second bite, savoring the buttery richness, and contemplate my next question. “Would it be okay if I came back some time to get another?”
She seems to pick up on the unspoken subtext. Is it okay for me to be here?
“Sure.” She smooths her hands down her apron. “That’d be fine.”