Page 49 of Hearts Storm

Despite putting me on another shift, he seems to be around the station more often than not when I’m here. Guess it comes with the territory, him being the captain and all.

The eggs sizzle as he pours the mixture into the heated pan, the smell of butter and eggs making my stomach growl again.

Shoulders tense, Logan doesn’t look up as he stirs, just keeps his back to me as he sprinkles shredded cheese over the eggs, steam curling in the air.

Once the eggs are done, he kills the heat and sets the pan aside before moving over to the refrigerator.

A little squirmy in my seat, I get up and move over to the cabinet next to the fridge to grab a couple of plates just as Logan turns, holding a carton of orange juice. Narrowly avoiding a collision, he freezes, eyes dropping to my mouth, then down to my breasts.

A low, guttural growl rumbles from his chest as he sets the juice down on the counter with a heavy thud.

Before I can step out of his personal space, he’s on me, crowding me up against the refrigerator door.

One hand planted beside my head, he grips my hip with the other, fingers digging in just hard enough to make me gasp.

Then he ducks, tucking his face into the curve of my neck, and takes a deep breath in.

His lips brush the sensitive skin just below my ear, moving slowly over the line of my jaw, coming to an abrupt halt to hover over my mouth.

Just as my eyelids start to flutter, he shoves away. Grabbing the pan off the stove with a frustrated growl, he stalks over to the counter and divides the eggs onto the two plates, setting one down on the island with a heavy thunk.

“Here.” His voice sounds strained. “I’m going to go before I do something we’ll both regret.”

Without another word, he snatches up the other plate and storms down the hall into his office and slams the door.

Silence presses in around me, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant tick of the clock on the wall.

He more than wanted to kiss me. I know he did. I felt it in the way his body pressed against mine, how his fingers dug into my hip like he was trying to anchor himself. But something—fear, pride, or the line he drew for himself, take your pick—made him stop.

I pick up my fork and push the eggs around on my plate. Throat tight, I blink rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

This is exactly why I shouldn’t have taken this job. I should have turned down the offer the second I found out Logan was going to be my boss. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself that I can work alongside him and Brex without falling, much less falling apart, it’s moments like these that prove me wrong.

Gasping awake, skin slicked with sweat, I throw the covers off in a desperate attempt to cool down. Aside from a small sliver of light under my door coming from the night light in the hall, my room here at the fire station is so dark I can barely make out the silhouette of the chair tucked under my desk.

I climb out of bed and grab my robe from where I tossed it over the back of the chair and put it on. Tying the belt snug around my waist, I grab a towel and quietly open my door.

Looking right and then left, making sure no one else is up, I tiptoe down the hall to the showers.

Save for the hum of the tankless water heater on the wall, the bathroom is quiet when I slip inside. Hanging my towel on the hook outside the stall, I step into the shower and pull the curtain closed behind me.

It only takes a few seconds to adjust the shower to a cooler setting. Once it’s the perfect temperature, I step under the spray. The cool water feels amazing, easing the heat licking over my skin, washing away the remnants of my nightmare still clinging to the edges of my brain.

Images of Rebecca’s hand slipping from mine start to fade as I close my eyes and just breathe, pressing my forehead against the cool tile, willing the memory away.

The light flicks on, then off. I ignore it. Probably just some old wiring.

But when it happens again, it’s longer, more deliberate. I freeze, water running over my head and down my face.

“Hello?” I call. “Someone out there?”

Silence stretches for a beat before I hear what sounds like muffled footsteps and then a soft, “It’s me.”

Brex.

Relief floods my veins. “Damn it, Brex. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” His voice, low and warm, comes from the other side of the curtain. “I turned the light off and on so you’d know someone was here.”