"And you're sitting here at ten in the morning beating yourself up over a text message because you don't want to spook her." He shakes his head, that smirk working its way across his face. "I'm not worried about you, man. I'm just telling you — be patient with her. She'll catch up to where you are. She just needs to know you're not going anywhere while she does."
I nod, some of that chaos in my gut calming down. It's the most useful advice anyone has given me in a long time.
"And Mark?" He waits until our eyes meet. "If you hurt her, I will make your life genuinely difficult."
"Understood, my man. I wouldn’t expect anything less."
"Okay." He stands, rolling his shoulders. "Now stop moping and help me roll up…"
The alarm cuts through the station like a blade. It’s the one thing that makes everyone stop doing what they’re doing and listen. We're both on our feet before the second tone finishes. The automated dispatch crackles through the overhead speakers.
Traffic accident, multiple vehicles. County Route 9, intersection near the county clerk's office. Units respond.
I'm already moving, crossing the bay toward my gear. I don’t pay attention to the address, I never do. Doesn’t matter where we’re going, wherever we end up, someone needs help. I go through the motions, pulling on gear, and the engine is rolling before I've fully processed what I heard.
It's not until we're two minutes out, lights and siren cutting through traffic, that it clicks. We’re heading toward the county clerk's office. Which is where Trish works.
I don't say anything. There really is nothing to say. Everything tells me that the accident could be three blocks away, could have nothing to do with the building she’s in. But my jaw is tight the whole way there, and when Gunner glances at me from across the engine, I think he's nervous like me, but surely Trish would’ve called one of us if she was injured.
We pull up to the scene and it's a two-car collision, looks like someone ran a light. Nobody appears to be seriously hurt, which is a blessing. Accidents are some of the worst scenes to roll up on, but this one looks to be very minor. One driver is out of her vehicle, shaken but standing, the other is still in the car and talking to a bystander. My training takes over immediately, and for the next twenty minutes I'm not thinking about anything except the job.
I’m checking for injuries, managing the scene, talking to the deputy who arrives to handle the traffic side of things.
It's only when we're wrapping up, loading equipment back onto the engine, that I see her.
She's standing at the edge of the small crowd that's gathered on the sidewalk in front of the clerk's office building. She’s in her work clothes, and fuck if I don’t want to mess her up a little bit. She’s wearing dark pants, a blouse that brings out the color of her eyes, and hair pulled back like it’s gotten completely in her way. The way she’s got it on top of her head exposes her smooth neck, and I decide right here and now this is how I want her to wear it next time we go out. She must have come out when the sirens went by. Judging by the amount of people who are out here, half the building did.
She's watching me. Her eyes follow with every single step I take, and it heats my body, knowing that she’s watching.
I make an excuse about checking our equipment list, and then I'm walking toward her. The crowd parts when they see me, but it’s not as if they know where I’m heading. When I stop, there's just a few feet of sidewalk between us.
She's trying to look composed. With the way she's got her arms crossed loosely in front of her, her weight shifted to one hip, like she just happened to wander out here and it's completely incidental that she's staring directly at me. I know better though. Me being here is affecting her the same way it’s affecting me.
"Rough afternoon?" she asks, eyebrow raised as she levels her chin so that we can look at one another.
"Better now since I’m seeing you.”
The tension between us can be cut with a knife, it’s like we’re two teenage kids who have seen each other in the hallway while changing classes.
The corner of her mouth tilts up. "Everything okay out there?"
"Just a Minor accident. Everyone's fine." I take one more step toward her, closing the distance until I'd only have to reach out to touch her. "Were you watching for me?"
"I was watching the scene." But her cheeks go pink, and we both know exactly what she was watching for.
I'm still in my gear, the jacket open at the front, probably not looking my best, but I don't care even a little. I reach up and brush a strand of hair back from her face where the wind has pulled it loose, and I feel her go very still under my hand.
"Hi," I say quietly.
"Hi." Her voice is softer than it was a second ago.
I lean down and kiss her. It’s not a show, not a long, drawn out kiss, not the kind that says I’m making a claim on her. It’s just one where I let anyone watching know that she and I are spending time together. I need this kiss as much as I need my next breath. My hand curves around her jaw, her face tipping up to meet mine. It’s soft and quick but means everything I can’t say at the moment.
When I pull back she's looking up at me with an expression I haven't seen from her before. It’s unguarded, almost like she’s agreed to let the distance between us evaporate. Something about the way I responded to the scene, and her seems to have made a difference in the length she’s held me away from her.
"I'll text you later," I tell her.
She blinks once, coming back to herself. "You'd better."
