Page 44 of Nailed

I covered my face with my hands. It’d felt so natural in the moment, but looking back I didn’t account for the fact that I’d made out with Callum in public. At a freaking party, no less.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said sheepishly.

“Why are you apologizing?” Clara asked. “You’re single. He’s single. You’re both hot. I don’t see why there’s a problem there.”

I made a sound of uncertainty.

"Look, I’m not going to try and beat the truth out of you,” she said, moving closer to me as a larger passenger slunk past. “But I am curious. And I’ve seen the way you all look at each other. Whatever is going on is not just between you and Blondie, is it?.”

I hesitated.

I knew that we hadn’t exactly been super subtle with the stolen glances and banter. She’d only been witness to that dynamic a few times and already she’d figured it out. I looked at her big, sincere eyes and realized with a startling clarity that I trusted her. Clara had proven her loyalty and trustworthiness a million times over in the short period of time I’d been living here.

She’d extended help when I didn’t even have the humility or guts to ask, and she’d been fighting for me in this case even though she didn’t have to. I trusted her enough to let my walls down and only then did I realize how starved I’d actually been for that kind of companionship.

“Okay,” I acquiesced, squaring up to tell her the full story. “But you have to promise to keep this to yourself.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, because of course I’m going to go tell Neighbor Tim all about your love life. This is a matter of National Security, after all.”

I filled her in on everything, from the first day I met Rafe outside of Stella’s to the growing tension between me and each of the guys, down to how I’d slept with two of them. And one of them twice.

The math of it all sounded more scandalous when I said it out loud, and by the time I finished I was actually kind of embarrassed. But Clara looked enthralled.

“It’s like you’re living a movie,” she said, her body language animated with excitement. “My God, Lauren, talk about being lucky to score three hunks in one renovation job. Teach us plebs your ways, I beg of you.”

I snorted. “It’s hardly a movie. If it is, it’s probably closer to a thriller. Things would be a lot closer to picture-perfect if not for the hold up and…the messiness of the situation.”

Clara tilted her head to the side. “You know, I was just kidding about the whole movie thing. Perfection is severely overrated. It’s the messiness of life that makes it fun and unpredictable. And anyway, everyone knows that the best movies are the ones that have enough conflict to keep you on the edge of your seat. I’d stop overthinking things and just enjoy it if I was you.”

She had a point. She didn’t know it yet, but my entire life until now had been about survival, not fun or relaxing. This was the first time in forever that I could actually let go and breathe. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t conventional or “normal”, whatever the hell that was supposed to look like.

But it was my reality as it stood, and I’d be damned if I let it pass me by and for now, I let myself get swept up in the rest of the day.

The train rattled Southward, eventually banking into the Loop. We hopped off at the Wells and took the metal steps, eventually emerging into the heart of the city where the smells of exhaust and fresh lake breeze came together in a blur.

Clara led the way and we took our time with the scenic route, with me periodically snapping photos of shots that were begging to be taken. We traced along the concrete paths of the Riverwalk, and I marveled at the emerald-green water and glass skyscrapers, and the way the massive steel-truss bridges arced over us like a ribcage.

With every single shot I took, I could practically feel my body unwind from the tight coil it’d been forced into since I got the news of the petition. If I’d been rubbed raw by all the politics surrounding the firehouse, then this trip was the salve I needed to feel calm again, more myself than the frantic woman I’d been morphing into.

When we were done with sightseeing, we stopped at a little coffee house and ordered two signature s’more lattes and leisurely made our way back to the “L”, homebound this time.

“Feel better?” Clara asked, blowing down on her drink.

“Much,” I said gratefully. “You have no idea how much I needed this. I’ve barely been able to recognize myself lately with how much I’ve been panicking over this mess with the permits.”

“It’s going to be fine,” she reassured me. “Trust me. I’m still working to get the final permits approved. It’ll all fall into place, you just have faith.”

The one thing I’d usually struggled with. It wasn’t practical, or immediately useful, but for some reason today it felt like the most logical answer. I gave Clara a grin.

“I think you missed your calling as a life coach,” I commented.

She chuckled in response. “I don’t think I quite have the patience for that. I’m selectively altruistic.”

We made our way back to the neighborhood and the firehouse, and I invited her in for a nightcap. When we walked into the bay area, we came face-to-face with a retreating Brock.

“It’s early to be packing up, isn’t it?” I asked, trying for as much brevity as I could but my voice sounded brittle even to my own ears.

“I have a meeting with the inspector and figured we may as well call it a day,” Brock replied, not even looking up at me. When he was done, he passed by with a quick nod of acknowledgment. “Miss Wolfhaardt, Miss Reyes.”