She handed me the mug, and our fingers brushed for just a second. Her skin was warm, and the contact sent awareness shooting up my arm like I’d touched a live wire.
She pulled back fast, tucking her hand against her side and focusing very intently on her own mug.
So she’d felt it too. Good to know I wasn’t suffering alone.
We drank in silence for a minute, Rhodes having wandered back to her inventory with a happy sound that suggested the coffee really was that much better. The kitchen felt smaller somehow, just the two of us and the morning light coming through the windows that overlooked the apparatus bay.
“That photo,” Sable said suddenly, nodding toward the wall where we kept pictures of the crew. “That’s your team?”
“Current rotation.” I stood, carrying my mug over to where the photos were tacked up on the corkboard. “We’re all volunteer except for Rhodes and me. Most people have day jobs outside the service.”
“The woman in front, that’s Rhodes?”
“Ten years as captain. Before that, she was with a metropolitan department downstate. Retired here and couldn’t stay away from the work.”
Sable moved closer, studying the photo with that same analytical attention she gave everything. “And you? How long have you been doing this?”
“Fifteen years. Started as a volunteer, went full-time after I got my paramedic cert.” I pointed to another photo, older, showing a younger version of myself with longer hair and fewer scars. “That’s from my first year.”
“You look different.”
“Iwasdifferent.” Younger. Less careful. Still believed I could save everyone if I just worked hard enough and moved fast enough.
“We all were,” she said quietly, and I wondered what she’d been like before whatever had put that guardedness in her eyes and the suppressants on her arm.
My radio crackled with traffic from another county, routine check-ins and status updates that created white noise in the background of our conversation. Sable’s radio echoed it a second later, and she reflexively checked the display even though we both knew it wasn’t anything that required response.
“I should get back,” she said, but she didn’t move toward the door. “Need to write up the after-action report while everything’s still fresh.”
“Captain mentioned you’re the one who personally caught the foundation damage in the community center.” I wrapped both hands around my mug, using it as something to do with my hands that wasn’t reaching out to touch her. “I should have seen that in my last inspection.”
“It’s recent damage, like I said. You can’t predict everything, Beau.”
The way she said my name, finally using it after calling me Calder all morning, hit me harder than it should have. “Still my responsibility.”
“And you take responsibility seriously.” She tilted her head, studying me with an intensity that made me want to look away. “Maybe too seriously.”
“There’s no such thing as too seriously when lives are on the line.”
“No,” she agreed. “But there’s such a thing as carrying guilt that isn’t yours to carry.”
The observation was too close, too accurate. I looked away, focusing on the dregs of coffee in my mug. “You don’t know me well enough to make that assessment.”
“No,” she said again, softer this time. “I don’t. But I know what it looks like when someone’s punishing themselves for something that probably wasn’t their fault.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she didn’t understand, that the omega and her kid had died because I’d been too slow and too careful and too focused on procedure.
But the words stuck in my throat, because some part of me recognized the same thing in her. The way she held herself. The walls she’d built. The suppressants she wore like armor.
We were both carrying something we shouldn’t be carrying alone.
“Thanks for the coffee lesson,” she said, moving toward where she’d left her tablet and radio. “And for the breakfast invitation, even though I’m going to have to raincheck on the sandwich.”
“You’re welcome back anytime.” The words came out more earnest than I’d intended, and I saw her pause.
“Careful, Calder. That almost sounded like you wanted me to come back.”
“Beau,” I corrected one more time. “And yeah. I do.”
