Chapter 5 #2
He studies me for a beat, then grins. "Modest. I like that. What're you drinking?"
"Whatever's cold."
He pulls three beers, slides them across. "First round's on me. Welcome to Copper Ridge."
"Appreciate it." I grab two of the beers. "I should---"
"Sit," he says, nodding toward the stool beside him.
"Your crew doesn't need you hovering." He gestures toward Rivera and Deluca at the table in the back, who are deep in conversation and clearly don't need me supervising their beer consumption.
"They can grab theirs in a minute. How's the new gig treating you? "
The logic is sound. I slide onto the stool. "Fine."
"That good, huh?" His grin suggests he knows exactly what "fine" means. "And how's landlord life?"
Word travels fast in small towns. "How'd you know about that?"
"Jennifer at Mountain Realty is my cousin. She mentioned you got surprised with a tenant." He takes a pull from his beer. "Pretty paramedic, I hear."
"She's a tenant. She pays rent on time. End of story."
"Uh-huh." He's enjoying this way too much. "And how's your daughter handling having a neighbor?"
"She likes her."
Jim sets his bottle down. "Just 'likes her'? Kids that age don't do anything halfway."
He's not wrong. "It's fine. They hang out on the porch sometimes. Gemma listens to her dinosaur theories."
"Sounds nice." He takes another pull from his beer. "Small-town life takes some getting used to when you come from the city. But give it time. Copper Ridge grows on you."
"Like mold?"
He grins. "Exactly. But the good kind. Cheese, penicillin, this town." He gestures with his bottle. "Place isn't Seattle, but it's got its perks."
I think about Ivy giggling on the porch. About Rivera's nod. About cookies on my counter and the way Gemma's voice sounds when she tells my daughter that Kevin the fern is nervous.
"Maybe," I say.
"That's the spirit. Almost optimistic. I'm so proud." He claps me on the shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth. "Now go hang with your crew. They invited you for a reason."
He's right. I grab the other two beers and head to the back table where Rivera and Deluca have been joined by Harrison.
They make room, and the conversation flows easier than I expected---shop talk mostly, but the kind that builds trust. Stories about calls, the quirks of Copper Ridge's geography, which roads flood first in spring.
An hour passes. Then another. By the time I check my phone, it's later than I planned.
"I should get going," I say, standing. "Ivy's with the babysitter."
"Good to have you out, Cap," Rivera says, and there's no edge to it. Just fact.
The drive home, I'm thinking about the nods, the easy conversation, the way Deluca laughed at one of my stories about Seattle traffic. Progress. Real progress.
Not just at the station, but here. In this town that's starting to feel less temporary.
The scene I find when I get home stops me in the doorway.
It's well past when Ivy should be asleep, but I heard voices on the back porch when I pulled in, so instead of panicking, I give them twenty minutes. Time to wrap up whatever dinosaur crisis they're currently managing. Time for me to not be the bad guy who breaks up Ivy's fun.
When I finally step outside, the cold hits first---that sharp Montana dark, the kind with teeth. Then I see them.
They're on the porch swing. Both asleep. The volcano book is open across their laps, and Clarence is sprawled directly on top of it, covering both of them like he's claiming territory. Like they're his humans now and everyone else can back off.
Gemma's head is tilted back, mouth slightly open, one hand still loosely holding the book's spine. Ivy's tucked into her side, the plastic stegosaurus pressed against her chest, her face smooth in that way it only gets in the deepest sleep---the kind where nothing can reach her.
The porch light catches the curl of Ivy's hair. The way Gemma's fingers haven't let go.
I should be angry. Ivy has school tomorrow, a bedtime, a routine I've been carefully rebuilding for months. Instead my feet have stopped moving and I'm just standing here in the cold, watching my daughter sleep in someone else's arms, not angry at all.
The screen door creaks when I step through it. Gemma startles awake, blinking.
"Oh---sorry." She looks down at Ivy, then back up at me. "We were just reading, and then---the volcano chapter---"
"What happened?" I keep my voice low so Ivy doesn't wake.
"Mrs. Delgado brought her home looking for you." Gemma shifts carefully, making room for me to reach Ivy. "I told her I'd keep an eye on her until you got back. She talks in her sleep. About velociraptors."
"I know." I scoop Ivy up. She makes a small sound and burrows into my chest, the stegosaurus still clutched in her fist. "I'm sorry. Lost track of time."
"It's fine. Really." Gemma looks at Ivy tucked against my shoulder, and her expression does something I don't have a name for --- soft and unguarded, like she forgot I was watching. "She's great."
"She is." The words come out quieter than I intend. "Thank you."
Gemma nods, pulling the abandoned blanket around her shoulders. Clarence drops from the swing and winds once around her ankles before disappearing into the dark.
"Go inside," I say. "It's cold."
She looks at me for a moment---something in her expression I can't quite read in the porch light---then pulls the blanket tighter and disappears through the door to her suite.
I carry Ivy in and tuck her into bed without turning on the light. The stegosaurus goes on the nightstand. She doesn't wake up.
Back in the kitchen, I stand at the sink and look out the window at the empty porch. Clarence has reclaimed the railing. The swing is still moving slightly in the breeze.
The porch light is still on. It's wasteful, I know, but I leave it on and go to bed.