Someone snickers and whispers something that earns him an elbow from Nathan. Bradley ignores them with practiced ease.
We step into the hallway just as another thunderclap shakes the station. The emergency lights kick on automatically, casting everything in a dim amber glow that softens the sharp edges of the world.
"Your car in the front lot?" he asks.
"Yeah, the blue one." I clutch my bag tighter, suddenly and irrationally not wanting to leave. The storm pounds against the roof, the sound of a thousand impatient fingers. "It's seen worse than this, though. I'll be fine."
Bradley nods, but something in his expression suggests he's not entirely convinced. "This storm's moving faster than predicted. Might be smarter to wait it out a bit."
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. It's a severe weather alert: flash flood warning for the entire valley, effective immediately. The screen glows with urgency against my palm.
"Guess that decides it," I say, trying to sound more disappointed than relieved. "Mind if I camp out somewhere until it eases up?"
"The comms room has decent coffee and better reception than the kitchen." He hesitates, then adds, "I'll be checking the backup systems if you need anything."
There's something in how he says it that makes me wonder if he's offering more than just directions. If he, too, feels this strange pull between professional distance and... whatever this warm, humming awareness is.
The station lights flicker once more, then die completely, plunging us into darkness save for the weak emergency lights. In the kitchen, someone swears creatively, followed by laughter.
I feel rather than see Bradley step closer, just enough that I can smell the faint trace of smoke and pine on him, just enough that when he speaks, his voice vibrates in the space between us. Low, private, a thread of warmth in the sudden dark.
"Looks like we're both staying put for a while."
The emergency generator kicks in with a low, mechanical growl. Lights stutter back to life, illuminating Bradley's face.
Chapter 2 – Bradley
The generator's growl vibrates through the soles of my boots, a familiar mechanical heartbeat that should bring relief. The emergency lights strengthen from amber to pale gold, casting Denise's face in soft relief, revealing the slight parting of her lips and the alert focus in her eyes.
I don't step back.
"Main power's down across the grid," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the strange tightness in my chest. "The generator should keep essential systems running for about seventy-two hours. More than enough until they fix the lines."
Denise nods, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "So we're officially storm refugees."
"Looks that way." I glance down the hallway toward the kitchen where muffled voices and laughter suggest the others have settled into the power outage with their usual resilience. "Chief will have a contingency plan. Always does."
As if summoned by my words, Paul Hawkins appears in the corridor, flashlight beam swinging ahead of him. "Wood, I need you to run diagnostics on the generator and check all backup circuits. The storm has knocked out power to half the valley, and dispatch is reporting downed lines all over Emberstone Road."
"Copy that."
"Cole—" The chief turns his attention to Denise. "Guess you're stuck with us for a while. Logan's setting up the portable radio in the comm room. Do you mind monitoring emergency frequencies? Ramirez could use the backup."
"Of course," she answers, straightening slightly.
"Good. I'm taking Nathan and the others to assist with road clearing. We've got at least three vehicles trapped on the north ridge." Hawkins's beard twitches with what might be a smile. "Try not to burn the place down while we're gone."
The chief disappears back down the hallway, leaving us in a pocket of sudden quiet. Through the narrow windows lining the corridor, lightning flashes, momentarily painting everything in stark white. I count to three before the thunder follows.
"Getting closer," I say.
Denise wraps her arms around herself. "Shouldn't you be checking that generator?"
"Right." I hesitate, then add, "You coming?"
"Ramirez can wait five minutes." She smiles, something playful flickering across her expression. "Besides, I've always wondered what keeps this place running when everything else shuts down."
I find myself returning her smile, a rusty sensation. "Diesel fuel and stubbornness, mostly."
