Chapter 15
Shane
The door closed in my face.
I stood there for a long time. Staring at the wood grain, at the peephole I knew she was watching through.
We're done.
I knocked again. "Maya. Please."
Nothing.
"I'll wait," I said. "However long it takes."
I sat down in the hallway, back against the door. Close enough that she’d have to step over me to leave. Close enough for her to know I meant it.
An hour passed. Maybe more. I heard movement inside. Heard Zoe's voice, small and confused. Heard Maya say something I couldn't make out.
The door stayed closed.
Eventually, I left. Not because I wanted to. But because sitting in her hallway like a stranger wasn’t going to fix whatever had broken between us.
I found the article an hour after I left her hallway.
I sat in my truck in the parking lot of my building. I couldn't make myself go inside. I couldn't stop replaying Maya's face when she'd said we're done. The way she'd flinched when I reached for her. The door closed between us like a verdict.
An article. A photo. O'Malley's.
I pulled out my phone and searched my own name.
The headline hit first:
Calendar Firefighter's New Flame: The Desperate Single Mom He “Rescued.”
Then the photo.
Natalie. Pressed against me, her hand on my chest, her body curved into mine like we were mid-embrace. The angle was perfect. Damning. It looked exactly like what it wasn't.
I stared at the screen until my vision blurred.
That moment had lasted ten seconds. Maybe less. She'd approached me at the bar, put her hands on me before I could stop her, and I'd shut it down.
Ten seconds.
And someone had been watching.
Waiting. Camera ready.
The comments were worse than the photo. I threw my phone across the room. It hit the wall with a crack that should have been satisfying, but wasn't.
This was my fault.
Not the photo. Not the article. But everything that made it possible. Every woman I'd hooked up with and forgotten. Every relationship I'd treated like a transaction. Every time I'd leaned into the calendar image because it was easier than being real.
Old Shane had built this.
And new Shane was paying for it.
I paced my apartment until the sun came up.
The anger coiled tighter with every step, looking for a target.
At Natalie, for not taking no for an answer.
At whoever had snapped that photo and sold it.
At the tabloid that ran it, at the commenters who thought they knew anything about Maya, at myself for ever being the kind of man who made this believable.
Maya had looked at that photo and seen exactly what she expected to see. A player. A liar. A man who would leave.
Because that's who I used to be.
Brian took one look at me when I walked into Engine 295 and knew immediately that something was wrong.
"What happened?"
I hadn't slept, hadn't shaved, and I probably looked exactly as wrecked as I felt.
"Maya ended it."
"What?" Brian set his coffee down. "When? Why?"
I pulled out my phone. The screen was cracked from where it hit the wall, but the article was still visible. I handed it to him.
Brian read in silence. His expression darkened with every scroll.
"This is garbage," he said finally. "This woman? I was there, Shane. I watched you shut her down in ten seconds flat."
"I know."
"So tell Maya that. Tell her what actually happened."
"I tried." My voice came out raw. "She said she can't do this. She can't watch Zoe get attached to someone who's going to leave. She looked at me like I was exactly what she'd been waiting for. The proof that she was right not to trust anyone."
"That's not about you. That's about everyone who came before you."
"Yeah, well." I laughed, and it sounded bitter even to my own ears. “It’s also about me. Who I was. Every woman I didn’t call back, every hookup I forgot the next morning. I built this, Brian. I made myself into exactly the guy she thinks I am."
Brian was quiet for a moment. "You're not that guy anymore."
I knew that. I did.
But knowing didn’t matter if I couldn’t make Maya believe it.
I tried everything.
Calls went straight to voicemail. Texts showed as delivered but never read. I drove to her apartment three more times. Knocked until my knuckles ached. She never answered.
By the third day, I realized she’d blocked my number.
I sat in my truck outside her building, engine idling, watching the light in her window. She was home. Twenty feet away, and she might as well have been on another planet.
Just a few days ago, I'd been up there. In her kitchen, making breakfast. In her bed, waking up to the smell of her shampoo. Watching her call for Zoe while I kissed the back of her neck.
I wanted to go up there now. Take the stairs two at a time, pound on the door until she opens it. Pull her into my arms and make her listen. Make her see that the photo was nothing. That Natalie was nothing. That she was the only thing that mattered.
But that wasn’t the man I wanted to be.
Forcing my way back into her life wouldn't prove I was different from every man who'd hurt her before. It would prove I was exactly the same.
So I sat there. Watched her window. Memorized the shape of the light behind her curtains like it was all I'd ever have of her.
Then I drove home. Alone.
The first thing in the morning of my next shift, I went to Captain Rodriguez in his office.
"I need to be pulled from the protective detail," I said. "Fully. Conflict of interest."
Rodriguez leaned back in his chair, studying me. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't have to. The whole station had probably heard by now.
He nodded. "Okay, Shane."
"Thank you, Cap."
I walked out before he could see my face crack.
But I couldn't stay away completely.
I drove past Maya’s school every evening when I wasn’t on shift.
I parked down the block, far enough that she wouldn't notice, close enough that I could see the entrance. I watched the lights in her classroom and made sure she got to her car safely.
She stayed late most nights. Grading papers, probably. Drowning herself in work, the way I was drowning myself in patrols and equipment checks and anything that kept me from thinking about her.
She never knew I was there.
Maybe she’d hate me if she found out. Or call it stalking, obsession—proof that I couldn't let go.
But I couldn't stop.
She'd pushed me away. She'd broken my heart.
So I kept showing up.
Kept watching.
Kept loving her from a distance she’d never know about.
I couldn't help it. I loved her. Even if she didn't want me anymore, even if she never opened that door again, I needed to know she was okay. That Tommy Vickers hadn't found her. That she made it to her car, made it home, made it through another day.
Because if something happened to her and I wasn't there, if I'd stayed away because she told me to and she got hurt...
I couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't let myself go there.
So I kept showing up. Kept watching. Kept loving her from a distance she'd never know about.
Thursday morning, I got off shift and my truck wouldn’t start.
Dead battery.
Two hours waiting for a tow. Another hour at the shop.
By the time I got home, it was late afternoon. I showered, changed, and told myself I’d head to the school in an hour.
I just needed to rest my eyes for a minute first.
I woke up on the couch to my phone ringing.
Unknown number. I almost didn’t answer, but felt in my gut that I needed to.
"Hello?"
“Shane?” A young voice. Familiar. Tight. “Shane, it's Millie."
I sat up. "Millie? What's wrong?"
"Something's happening at the school." Her voice was high, tight with panic. "Maya stayed late to grade papers. She's not answering her phone. I've been trying to reach her for an hour."
My blood went cold all at once.
"Zoe's here with me at the apartment." Millie's breath hitched.“Shane, I can see smoke from Zoe’s window. It’s coming from the school.”
I was already moving.
Keys in hand.
Door slamming behind me.
"Call 911," I said. "Right now. Tell them there’s a fire at P.S. 147. Tell them there may be someone inside.”
"Okay. Okay, I'll call."
"I'm already on my way."
I hung up. Started the truck. Pulled out of the parking lot so fast my tires screamed.
There were blue lights in my rearview. Sirens in the distance. I pushed the truck as fast as I dared, weaving through traffic, heart pounding against my ribs.
Maya was in danger. Tommy Vickers had finally made his move. And I was going to get to her. No matter what it took.
The engine roared. The night swallowed me whole.
Hold on, I thought. Just hold on.
I'm coming.