Chapter 10
W e hit every light as we dragged our tired asses back to quarters. It wasn’t enough that we’d been at the same address since 10 p.m. last night. No, now at four in the morning, it was taking double that time to get back.
At the second to last stoplight before the house, the red light mocking us all, I gave in and let my eyes sweep over the security shutter that kept Cupcake safe, and up to Jenna’s bedroom window on the second floor.
I pictured her curled up on her left side, hands tucked under her chin, off in dreamland, and as usual, wished I was wrapped around her, keeping her warm.
I always knew I’d gone past the point of exhaustion when I thought I could see her standing there in the dark.
Yeah—that was when I knew I’d be good for nothing tomorrow, or more accurately, today. I would fall into a dead sleep and the whole day would be lost.
There was at least one good thing about this time in a shift like this, it meant that in only a few hours I could be knocking on Jenna’s door for an everything bagel and a coffee before going home to crash, and as the light turned to green, that gave me my second wind—or at least enough gas to do the return checks and get a start on the incident report.
Rambo pulled the rig in tight and then turned to reverse into our spot on the right, while Kylie maneuvered the engine in beside us.
We were tired as fuck and had just been to hell and back, but we’d done everything we needed to and then headed to the kitchen for coffee, only to be rolled out another time after that.
By the time my shift had ended, a layer of smoke, grease, sweat, and grime had set to every inch of my skin, but I just felt like I needed to see her, even if the kinder thing would be to go and take a shower.
Without changing out of my work shorts, tee, and shirt, I headed over to Cupcake like Jenna was my homing beacon. I crossed over just as the traffic started to ramp up, getting busier by the minute.
I contemplated rolling my sleeves down, but it just felt too gross. All I needed to do was set eyes on her. See that she was alive and be close to her, just for a few minutes. Just so that I could go to sleep knowing she was still here and safe.
I’d never really been able to fathom our connection. It just . . . was.
It ran soul-deep, and the only thing that came close to what we had was my relationships with my siblings and cousins. But even then it was different.
The lights were out in the bakery, but I knew better than to think my little baker wouldn’t be up already. I used my key and shouted, “It’s me,” so she wouldn’t be startled.
I walked toward the kitchen, my strides heavy, pushed on the two-way door she liked so much, and what I saw nearly took my breath away.
It wasn’t because there was anything new about the picture in front of me, but because she was everything I needed at that very moment. She was a soothing balm to my weary soul, and I fucking loved her with every part of me.
She had no idea what she did to me.
How sexy she was when she was in her element. A mixing bowl in one hand, spatula in the other. What wouldn’t I give to continue toward her, wrap my arms around her waist, and breathe her in?
The things I’d do to her to help me forget the last ten hours.
There wasn’t much I wanted to remember from last night.
Not the way the fire had gotten the jump on us and moved so quickly we had almost lost our egress. Not the way the superintendent had failed to keep the building up to code, and definitely not how the woman I’d carried down five flights of acrid smoke-filled stairwells had died on the gurney.
I hadn’t been able to keep myself from noticing the shade of her hair was an exact match to my Jenna’s glossy chestnut brown as I’d swept it off her face, and when the EMTs had checked her pupils for a response, they’d been a near-perfect match to Jenna’s warm-honey irises, only hers were already lifeless.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she had a best friend whose life would never be the same now she was gone.
And in that moment I broke my restraint, gave the leash I had on my entire being an inch of slack, and wound my arms around Jenna. I promised myself I’d take just a quick hug, feel her close, and then release, but she turned in my arms and placed her head on my chest.
I closed my eyes and let her goodness, her warmth, seep into my bones, and then with all the strength I had left, I pressed a kiss to her hair and pulled away, setting myself back behind the counter in the middle of the kitchen.
I watched Jenna’s gorgeous face as she smiled softly, instinctively reaching for the coffee mug she considered mine, and made my drink exactly how I liked it when I needed to wind down.
She’d set up a little coffee maker in here for her, Seb, and Kate to use when she didn’t want to waste precious time warming up the industrial one out front when there were breakfast pastries to be made.
I watched her, barely able to keep my eyes open, and even though there were just five feet between us, the darkness came flooding back, and with it, the tiredness and anger I’d carried over from the firehouse.
Shit, I needed to get out of here.
There was just something about him turning up here, looking like that. He smelled of smoke and diesel and if rugged was a scent, you could throw that in too. As it mixed with the last remnants of his shower gel it took superhuman strength to not moan as he held me tight.
The sleeves on his crewneck were rolled up to his elbows, his powerful forearms bulging and streaked with smudges of soot and dirt.
I was so gone for him that my hands shook as I fixed his coffee, extra milky because he looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion—at least he wouldn’t be able to notice how weak in the knees he made me.
There wasn’t a hotter man alive. Nor kinder, or more thoughtful. Yeah, he was bossy, abrasive, and kind of a hard ass, serious, but so damn caring it made my heart hurt a little that I couldn’t take care of him the way I really wanted to.
Because nothing, not even the persian blue of his eyes could hide the pain that shuttered behind them.
His face was so severe, his brows heavy. The Maddens were almost clones of each other. Varying shades of blond hair and blue eyes. All tall and muscular. All gorgeous. But he was more like his dad than the rest. Everything just seemed more defined and masculine. The cut of his jaw, the day-old scruff—he possessed a ruggedness the others didn’t, and it was striking.
I wanted to take him in my arms again. I wanted to rub soothing circles across his warm back. Whisper sweet things in his ear and demand he go straight upstairs to bed where he could rest knowing when he awoke, I’d be here to feed him, listen to him, and hold him.
I just wanted to take care of him.
Instead, I handed him his drink and pushed the dough I was kneading aside to fix him some breakfast so he could just go home.
I fetched a few strips of bacon from the fridge along with a handful of lettuce and a beefsteak tomato I needed to wash.
I fired up the grill, coating the surface with a few brushes of coconut oil and then set the bacon on top of it, peeking inside my proofing box as I passed by. The dough was nearly ready, but nothing, not a single thing, came before him when he looked so forlorn.
I knew the script for how the next few seconds would go down, but I needed to get to the crucial information.
“Was it a bad night?” I asked without turning, though I looked over my shoulder to see his response.
A single nod.
“Do you want to talk about it now?”
A shake of his head.
And the worst question of all, “Do you need to go see Jack?”
Jack, his eight-year-old nephew, who he was always desperate to see if he’d been to a callout that had involved a child. It was my only barometer as to how desolate he felt on the inside.
Death and injury, scenes of utter devastation, horrific things, stomach-churning things, were a part of the job he’d always been able to deal with. Anything involving kids, well, that hit him like a Mack truck.
He sighed, “No I don’t need to see him today. But it would be good to spend some time with him in general.”
I agreed. “How about he stays over on Saturday night? We can make pancakes or muffins for breakfast on Sunday, and then we can go do something fun. You wanna ask Coralie and see what his schedule is like?”
Jack had a better social life than me. He had hockey practice and tournaments, friends, and homework, but something told me he’d free himself up for his Uncle Scott.
“Yeah, I’ll text her later.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll see if there’s anything new showing at the theater and just double-check the museum doesn’t have anything running before we make a solid plan.”
He nodded again because the American Museum of Natural History was one of Jack’s favorite spots in the city to visit, and every so often, they’d put together a new exhibit or a fact-finding trail.
I began chopping the tomato as I tried to get more information out of him.
“So, what was it last night?”
Today it only seemed like a fool’s error, though, because he snapped at me in answer.
“Jenna. I don’t want to talk about it.”
My eyes bulged. “Okay, I’m sorry,” I said as I put the bagel in to warm and continued to slice the rest of the tomato. Too distracted, I cut right into my finger and yipped in pain. I dropped the knife and practically vaulted to the sink, Scott at my side in seconds.
“Let me see.”
I showed him and winced when he squished the little incision closed, and his tired blue eyes stormed grey.
“For fuck’s sake, Jenna, can’t you be more careful?”
He batted my other hand out of the way, and as he reached for the first aid kit the lid flung open and its contents scattered all over the floor.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me with this? How are you supposed to take care of yourself when I’m not here, huh? Who doesn’t close the lid on their fucking first aid box? Don’t you check this shit?”
“I, I . . . Scott, you’re hurting me,” I gasped.
His gaze flew to where his hand was gripping my wrist and he let go immediately.
I rubbed at the thumb-sized bruise that was already starting to form and his face drained of all its color.
He went from angry to remorseful in less than a second.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.”
He bent down and picked up the Band-Aids, alcohol wipes, and burn wraps that had fallen. He handed me a blue Band-Aid, the right size and shape for the nick in my finger, and closed the clasp tightly shut.
“I’m sorry,” he said again quietly. “I don’t like to see you hurt. Maybe I should just head out. I got what I needed.”
“Huh?”
“I mean . . . shit. Sorry. I’m so tired. Get back to your pastry. I’ll call you later.”
“Scott.”
“I promise, I’ll call later.”
With that, he was gone, his cup only half-empty, the door practically swinging off its hinges. I didn’t bother chasing after him, there’d be no point. He wasn’t in the mood to use his words and I got it.
The Keep Back 200 FT , written across his expansive back wasn’t just cautionary advice, it was a warning sign when it came to him on a day like today.
I was his safe space; you didn’t need a psychology degree to work that one out. But as he’d slowly sipped his coffee and made plans for the weekend, the mask had fallen away and all that was left was an angry man who’d lost a fight last night I might never get to understand.
The only problem now was that I’d worry about him all day. Worry about what had happened. Worry about how he felt now the adrenaline wasn’t pumping through his body, and because of how well I knew him, beat himself up over what could’ve gone differently.
It was going to be a long day.
“Hey, Jenna, can I camp out here for a bit? Scott’s gone to bed and I’m not exactly good at being quiet,” Wren said with a grimace as she strode through Cupcake.
“Sure, you can. Come sit up at this one so I can talk to you from the counter.” I was pointing at the table that fit two. It was tucked beside the cash register and in the shop window. She’d like it there, and to be honest, it was nice having her around again. We’d spent a lot of time together during my last year of high school and final summer before culinary school.
Scott, Knox, and Troy, Scott’s youngest cousin, were closer than most, and because wherever Scott was, I was, we all hung out and became tight. Mrs. Madden, or Mama Madden to those who knew her, loved a full house, and with her two oldest already away at college, she insisted we stay for dinner most nights.
“So did you see him?” I asked as I peered down at the blue plastic strip on my left pointer finger.
“No. I just heard the shower running and got outta there. He’s . . .” she paused until she finally found the right word, “intense sometimes.”
“That he is,” I said of my friend, who’d been like it his whole damn life. It wasn’t necessarily that he had a perma-scowl, but it was close.
“What do you want to try today?” I prodded as she gazed up at the drink menu. She was working her way through the list and still had three more to try.
With her hand on her hip, her raven hair in the wildest high bun, she tilted her head in thought. “Hmm, let’s go for . . . praline this morning. I’m feeling something sweet.”
“You got it.” I stepped over to the coffee machine and reached for a portafilter, filled it with ground coffee from the grinder next to it, and attached it to the group head, then pressed the command button.
“So, Jason is on my case again about going out for drinks after the game on Friday night. Some bar called?—”
“Full Moon. They love it there,” I interjected as I steamed some milk, the wand hissing until it was hot and frothy enough.
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m not sure, though. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
I looked back at her over my shoulder. She was leaning on the counter, the second person this morning to walk in here looking defeated.
I really felt for her. Knox had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Almost, but not quite as severe as Scott’s. It seemed to have skipped his twin siblings and Jason, the youngest, giving Scott and Knox enough pigheadedness for five people.
“A good idea, I’m not really sure, but I’ll go with you anyway if you like?”
“You will?” She straightened up, and relief washed over her.
“Well, you can’t exactly go by yourself,” I said with a shrug as I handed her the finished drink.
“It’d be pretty lame, wouldn’t it.”
I smiled and nodded, and she rolled her eyes.
“Okay, thank you,” she said, taking a tiny sip of the latte and humming in appreciation.
“Are you sure you don’t have anything planned?”
“Nope.” I knew Scott would be working again and my biggest order this week had gone out this morning, so my schedule was wide open.
She settled herself into the seat I had offered and got to work on her laptop while I served customers and refilled her cup every time she drained it.
The rest of the morning sputtered along like a beat-up old car that you had to coax and rev, but only ever got as fast as ten miles an hour. Every time I looked at the clock on the wall, I’d be sorry I did, even though I was busy and everything was selling well.
After Wren had left to catch the bus over to Casey and Anna’s, the lunchtime crowd had filtered in, but by about two-thirty it was as quiet as a church in here.
No one had been in for the last fifteen minutes, and it was time to call it.
That was one good perk of being the sole person in charge. I decided when it was closing time.