Chapter 13 The Spark #2
“I'll find you a space.” The words come out before I think them through. “Tomorrow. I'll have somewhere for your students by tomorrow.”
She stares at me like I've spoken a foreign language.
“I mean it. ELK will cover the repairs. All of them. And until the building is ready, your students will have somewhere to go. I promise.”
Her eyes search my face, looking for the lie. I've seen that look before. Someone who's heard too many promises from men in suits.
“Why?” she asks simply.
“Because my reputation is the only thing I truly own, Mrs. Okonkwo. And because those kids deserve better than this.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment. Then she nods once, sharply, and turns back toward the building.
Ethan appears at my shoulder as she walks away. “Where exactly are you planning to find classroom space by tomorrow?”
“I'll figure it out.”
“Kai—“
“I said I'll figure it out.”
Emma touches my arm, light and brief. “I'm going to step back. Let you work. I'll be nearby.”
“You don't have to stay. I can call you a car.”
“I'm not leaving you alone.” She holds my gaze. “I just don't want to be underfoot.”
She slips into the crowd before I can argue.
I spend the next hour in a blur of logistics and damage control. The fire captain has questions. The insurance adjuster needs a walkthrough. I'm on the phone with facilities securing temporary classroom space. Through it all, my eyes keep drifting to the crowd.
Emma is talking to a group of teenagers near the corner bodega, buying them sodas and listening as they point toward the school.
“What's she doing?” Maddox asks without looking up from his screen.
“I have no idea.”
His typing doesn't slow. “Useful or liability?”
“What?”
He narrows his eyes. “Your girl. Which one is she?”
“That's not how I see her.”
“You should. The right person makes you sharper.” He glances toward where Ethan is coordinating with the fire captain. “Clearer.”
I don't answer. I watch Emma hand a soda to a kid in a hoodie, crouch to his level to listen.
Twenty minutes later, she returns carrying a cardboard tray and a small paper bag.
“Coffee,” she says, handing one to Ethan. “Black. Sugar packets in the bag if you need them.”
Ethan blinks, then takes the cup. “Thanks.”
She hands one to Maddox, who accepts it without looking away from his screen. “Black is fine.” The faintest crack in his ice-wall demeanor. Caffeine is his weak spot.
She brings me the last two cups. “And sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but you haven't eaten, and neither have they.”
I take the coffee, warmth spreading through my cold fingers. “Emma, you didn't have to do this.”
“I know.” She pulls a wrapped sandwich from the bag and hands it to me. “Eat. I'm starving.”
I want to kiss her. The urge is so strong I have to look away.
“There's something else,” she says, her voice dropping. “Those kids I was talking to. The ones in the hoodies.”
“I saw you with them.”
“They hang out near the school most nights. Saw something right before the smoke started.” She glances at Maddox. “A group of bikes. Four or five. They said it's not the first time those bikes have been around Ravenwood. One of them found this near the fence.”
Maddox's typing stops. She pulls a crumpled bandana from the bag. Red and black.
He takes it. I go still. Our eyes meet, and the same thought passes between us.
“I'm going to follow this,” Maddox says, closing his laptop. He exchanges a look with Ethan. “I have a contact on the east side who knows the local clubs.”
Ethan nods, jaw set. “I'm going with him. Trail's fresh.”
“Go. Keep me updated.”
They disappear into the SUV. I turn back to Emma.
“How did you get them to talk?” My voice is rough.
She shrugs. “I bought them sodas and treated them like people. The police already talked to them, but apparently they weren't interested in what a bunch of kids had to say.”
I stare at her. I've spent my life around people who use words as currency or weapons. Emma uses them as bridges.
“What?” she asks, shifting under my scrutiny. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “You're just... thank you, Emma. This might be the break we needed.”
“I hope so.” Her eyes drift toward the blackened wing. “I hope you catch whoever did this.”
“We will.” I take her hand. Her fingers are icy. I wrap mine around them.
She doesn't pull away. We stand there as the sirens fade into background noise.
The next hour is a grind. By the time I extract myself, it's past midnight.
I find Emma on the hood of my car. Heels discarded on the pavement like casualties.
Someone gave her a jacket, and I feel a spark of something until I recognize the heavy black leather as mine, left in the backseat after the Midnight Circuit.
She's swallowed by it, bare feet dangling over the bumper.
I like seeing her in my clothes.
“Hey.” The weight of the night crashes down. “I'm sorry. This isn't the evening I planned.”
“Stop apologizing.” She slides off the hood, wincing as her feet hit cold asphalt. “Tonight I got to see another side of the mystery that is Kaiden Rhodes. Worth more than a fancy dinner.”
I step closer. “And what did you see?”
She tilts her head. “Someone who actually cares. About the school, the neighborhood, making things right.” Her voice drops. “I like that.”
I lift the jacket's zipper to her throat. She sees the best in me. I want to be that man for her.
I open the passenger door. She slides in, pulls her feet up onto the seat.
The drive back is quiet. Halfway home, I glance over. Her eyes are closed, head resting against the window. Breathing slow and even.
She's asleep.
I turn down the radio and take the long route, avoiding every pothole that might jar her awake.
I pull up outside her building, kill the engine, sit for a moment watching her breathe. I should wake her. But she looks peaceful, and waking her feels like an intrusion.”
I get out quietly, round to her side. When I open the door, she stirs but doesn't wake. I slip one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and lift.
She's lighter than I expected, warm against my chest. Her head falls into the curve of my shoulder. The soft puff of her breath against my neck.
The building's front gate opens with a push. No security cameras that I can see. Nothing between the entrance and her door but three flights of stairs and a cheap lock.
I add the landlord to the list of people I need to talk to.
The stairs are narrow, steep. I take them slowly. She shifts in my arms on the second landing, makes a small sound in the back of her throat.
“Kai?” Her voice is thick with sleep.
“You fell asleep. I'm taking you up.”
“Oh.” She doesn't stiffen or protest. She relaxes into me, her fingers curling loosely into my shirt. “Okay. 3B.”
The trust in that single word breaks something open.
I reach her door and look down at her. “Emma. I need your keys.”
“Purse,” she mumbles. “Front pocket.”
I fish out the keys, unlock the door while holding her weight. Her apartment is dark, lit only by amber streetlight through the windows.
I hesitate at the threshold. Every instinct wants to carry her inside, stay until the sun comes up. Fuck. I've spent the last week respecting the boundaries she set. I won't cross them now, when she's too vulnerable to enforce them.
“Emma.” My voice is rough in the quiet hall. “You're home. I need you to stand for a moment.”
She groans softly, head lifting from my shoulder. I lower her until her feet find the floor, hands firm on her waist to steady her. She looks small and disheveled in my jacket, bare feet pale against the old wood.
“Thank you, Kai,” she murmurs, leaning against the doorframe. “For everything tonight.”
“Thank you for being the only thing that made sense.” I lean down, press a kiss to her forehead, linger there a heartbeat longer than I should. “Go to sleep. I'll call you in the morning.”
“I'd like that.”
She offers a drowsy smile before stepping back into her apartment. I wait until she's closed and locked the door before turning toward the stairs.
The walk back to the car feels longer than three flights.
I'm falling for her. The momentum is terrifying. I have no desire to stop.