Chapter 7 Mira #2
She didn’t flinch. Just walked closer, heels clicking on the tile, circling me in an attempt to make me feel small. She stopped at the casserole dish, dipped her finger in the sauce, tasted it, and wrinkled her nose.
“That’s disgusting.” She wiped her finger on a paper towel. “Then again it matches the woman who made it.”
“Get your hands out of my food.”
“Or what?” Her smile turned vicious. “You’ll cry? Run to Percy? That’s what you do, right? Play the victim so three men drop everything to take care of you.”
I pulled down plates, keeping my hands busy so she wouldn’t see them shake. “That’s rich coming from a woman who bakes cookies for a man who just walked right past her.”
Cateline was unfazed and she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms under her chest, pushing her boobs up. “Percy and I have history. Real history. Not whatever this pity party for you is.”
I stacked the plates. “Let me guess. You show up here, bring treats, laugh at his jokes, touch his arm. And he smiles at you the same way he smiles at everyone.” I glanced at her.
“You’re not very bright, are you? Because then you would’ve noticed how you’re just forcing yourself to a guy who is clearly not interested. ”
Her voice dropped. “I can offer Percy things you can’t. Look at you. Mousy hair, bargain clothes, no personality. You’re not even his type. You’re just... convenient. A sad little project he’ll get bored of.”
That one landed. Right in the soft spot I couldn’t armor fast enough.
“And yet.” I turned to face her. “I’m the one sleeping under his roof. Eating at his table. Watching movies on his couch while he picks things he thinks I’ll enjoy.” I let every word sit. “Your name hasn’t come up once.”
Her jaw locked. She stepped into my space, close enough that I could count her eyelash extensions, and her fingers found a strand of my hair. She twirled it deliberately, her lips inches from my ear.
“You’re simply a pathetic whore,” she whispered. “A plain, desperate, attention-seeking bitch who spread herself for men because nobody else wanted her.”
I grabbed her wrist. Twisted it down and held it. My other hand found the handle of the kitchen knife on the cutting board behind me.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
Her eyes dropped to the knife. Went wide.
“You don’t know me.” My grip tightened on her wrist. “The next time you put your fingers on me again, I’ll remove them. Are we clear?”
She yanked her hand free and stumbled back a step.
“You’re insane!”
“No. I just don’t play nice with someone like you.” I set the knife down. “And for the record? Those cookies are peanut butter chocolate chip. Percy’s deathly allergic. Has been his whole life.” I tilted my head. “But you knew that, right? Since you two are so close?”
Her mouth opened and closed. The flush crawled up her neck and ate her composure alive.
“He never...” She swallowed. “That’s not...”
“Exactly.”
We were interrupted by a cheerful voice.
“That smells amazing!” Percy appeared in the doorway, easy grin in place.
Cateline’s entire body rearranged itself. Shoulders back, hair tossed, smile cranked to full wattage. The transformation was so fast it was almost impressive.
“Percy!” She pressed her hand to her chest, voice pitched to sugar. “I was just helping your friend find the plates. Poor thing was so lost in here.”
“Great, thanks.” Percy reached past me for the dish. His arm brushed mine and he didn’t move away as he turned to me. “I’m excited to taste your dish. Smells delicious already.”
Cateline’s smile went rigid after being ignored.
I reached up and squeezed Percy’s bicep. Let my thumb press into the muscle, let my hand stay there a beat longer than necessary, my eyes finding Cateline’s over his shoulder.
“Let’s eat,” I said. “Before Solomon finishes everything.”
Percy offered his hand. Fingers laced through mine, and he pulled me toward the common area.
I looked back.
Cateline stood in the kitchen doorway. The humiliation on her face was almost enough to make me feel bad. Almost.
“Cat’s nice. You can be friends,” Percy said as he handed me a plate.
I stared at him. “You’re joking.”
“What?” He looked genuinely confused. “She brought cookies. That’s nice.”
“Percy.” I set down the plate before I broke it. “She was hitting on you.”
He frowned. “No she wasn’t. She was just being friendly.”
“She touched your arm, made you cookies. She speaks to you in a voice that belongs in a phone sex commercial.”
Percy’s frown deepened. Then his face cleared and he laughed. “Cat? No way. We’re just people who know each other.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.
He genuinely had no idea. This beautiful, oblivious idiot had absolutely no clue that Cateline had been throwing herself at him for God knows how long.
Part of me found it endearing.
A larger part wanted to shake him.
“She called you Percy,” I said flatly. “Only Lucian and Solomon call you that.”
“Uh, I guess,” He shrugged. “Now that you mentioned it.”
“And you call her Cat.”
“That’s her name.”
“It’s a nickname.” I could feel my eye starting to twitch. “You have nicknames for each other. That’s... wonderful. You seem to enjoy giving those out.”
Percy’s brow furrowed. He squinted at me as if I’d started speaking another language.
“Wait.” He held up a hand. “Are you mad at me right now? I genuinely can’t tell.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You sound mad.”
“I’m not.”
He studied me for a moment, head tilted, full confused puppy. Then his expression cleared and he grinned.
“Do you want me to give you a nickname?”
I blinked. “What? No. That’s not the point.”
“Because I can. If that’s what this is about.” He leaned closer, that teasing warmth back in his eyes. “Though I’m not sure why I’d bother when I already have one for you.”
My heart stuttered. “You do?”
“Mhm.” His voice dropped, just for me. “But you get flustered every time I use it, so I save it for special occasions.”
The memory hit me. His voice in my ear yesterday morning, low and sleep-rough, when he’d found me making coffee. The word he’d used instead of my name.
Love.
Heat flooded my face so fast I felt dizzy.
“T-that’s not a nickname,” I blurted out defensively. “That’s just... British.”
“I’m not British.”
“Then why do you-”
“Because I like the way you blush when I say it.” His grin widened. “Exactly like that.”
I was going to kill him. I was going to take this casserole dish and bash it over his beautiful, stupid head.
A snort came from behind us. Solomon had materialized at the table, fork already in hand, helping himself to a portion of pasta bake.
“She’s not wrong,” he said without looking up. “You do hand out nicknames like candy.”
“I do not.”
“You called the fire chief ‘Big Red’ for three months.”
“His name is literally Red. And he’s tall.”
“You call Lucian ‘grumpy.’“
“You know that one is not a nickname. It’s a description.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “I cannot have this conversation right now.”
“That’s fine.” Percy’s hand found my lower back again. “We can revisit it later. When you’re less flustered.”
“I’m not flustered.”
“Love, you’re bright red.”
There it was again. Said so casually while my entire cardiovascular system staged a revolt.
Solomon snorted again, louder this time, and shoved another forkful of pasta into his mouth.
Before I could formulate a response that didn’t involve violence, the front door opened.
Lucian walked in, still in his captain’s uniform, and the room rearranged itself around him. People stepped aside without being asked. Conversations dropped to murmurs. He didn’t demand attention; he just occupied it, the way gravity occupied space.
Percy made me feel warm. Solomon made me feel seen. Lucian made me feel an emotion I couldn’t name yet. It lived closer to a challenge than a comfort, making my pulse kick up.
“Mira.” He crossed to our table, nostrils flaring slightly as he caught the scent of my casserole. “You cooked.”
“Pasta bake.” My voice came out embarrassingly breathless. “It’s not much.”
Lucian took the dish from Solomon, inhaled deeply, and his face turned softer.
“This is ours,” he announced to the room.
“Come on, Cap.” One of the firefighters edged closer, trying to peer into the dish. “At least let us see what-”
Lucian’s hand shot out and smacked his reaching fingers away. “I said ours.”
Two more firefighters had been creeping toward the table. Solomon turned his head slowly, fixing them with a stare that could freeze fire. They scattered faster than startled cats.
“Damn,” one of them muttered, retreating to a safe distance. “It’s just pasta.”
“It’s her pasta,” Percy said cheerfully, already loading up a second plate. “Exclusive for us.”
After that, I heard the sharp click of heels. Cateline was gathering her cookies, her jaw tight, her earlier performance completely abandoned. She stormed toward the exit, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the windows, perhaps to save some dignity.
Nobody commented. Just a few firefighters exchanged looks.
I tried not to feel smug. But I can’t deny the satisfaction.
The next twenty minutes passed in a warm blur. I sat bracketed between Solomon and Percy, Lucian across from me, and for a few stolen moments I forgot about everything else. The three of them bickered over the last serving.
The front door opened again, and two police officers walked in. The shorter one scanned the room, spotted Lucian, and headed over with a professional nod.
“Captain Valdris. We have updates on the arson case.” His eyes landed on me and widened slightly. “Oh, I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“She’s staying with us,” Lucian said. Flat with finality, daring anyone to question it.
The officer blinked. Glanced between me and the three men surrounding me in a protective wall. I could practically see him connecting dots, already composing the gossip he’d share later.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s actually good news. We strongly advise her to remain somewhere secure.”
My stomach clenched. “Why? What happened?”
“A man based on the description of your ex-boyfriend was spotted at a gas station two towns over this morning.” The officer consulted the notes from the statement I gave when we dropped by the station yesterday.
“There’s more. The fire at your bookshop is connected to the last arson in town. Same accelerant and methodology.”
Solomon had mentioned the accelerant days ago. Before the police confirmed it.
How had he known?
I shoved the thought aside for later.
“Your ex matches witness descriptions and we are tracking him,” the officer continued.
Suddenly, it hit me. The emergency call. The one that pulled Percy away from watching me. The one that gave Hudson his window.
“He set those fires on purpose,” I heard myself say. “To isolate me.”
“That’s our working theory. He’s escalating. Don’t go anywhere alone.”
“She won’t.” Lucian’s voice had gone cold. “She doesn’t leave our sight.”
The officers left and now the firehouse felt too exposed and fragile.
Hudson had planned everything. From the fires, my isolation and his last attack. He’d been playing chess while I stumbled through checkers, always three moves ahead.
And he was still out there.
“Mira.” Percy’s hand found mine under the table. “Hey. Stay with me.”
I couldn’t. I was somewhere else. Somewhere that smelled of smoke, tasting fear as I fear hands around my throat.
“He’s not getting near you,” Solomon said quietly. “Not while we’re breathing.”
“You can’t protect me forever.”
“Watch us.” Lucian’s eyes held mine. “He comes for you again, he won’t walk away.”
I wanted to believe them. Wanted to sink into their certainty and let it carry me through this nightmare.
But the bubble had burst. The warmth of lunch, the teasing, that moment with them, all of it had shattered against cold reality.
Hudson was still out there.
I can’t be at peace. He’d burned my entire life to the ground just to get to me, and he wouldn’t stop until he finished what he started.
“Let’s go home,” Percy said softly.
Home. Their home. Not mine. I didn’t have a home anymore.
I nodded anyway and let them lead me out into the afternoon sun.
Back at the cabin, I checked the front door lock. Then checked it again. My hand hovered over the deadbolt for a third pass before I caught myself.
The shoes went back by the bed that night.