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“Who says I wasn’t freaked out?”
“Um, I was right there next to you, remember?” Camila paused to dip one of her chips in the salsa, then—much to Roman’s happiness—polish it off in two bites. “Damn, that’s good,” she murmured before adding, “You were completely calm while the rest of us were a half-step away from totally hyperventilating.”
“You mean, Ilookedcompletely calm,” he corrected, and her brows furrowed.
“Well, if you weren’t, you’re one hell of a good actor.”
He let another few seconds go by, mostly so she’d keep eating like the doctor had advised. “Believe me, I wasn’t always. It’s all part of the training. But I can promise you weren’t the only one in that bank who was scared. In fact”—he took a bite of his own, and man, he’d been hungrier than he realized—“if youhadn’tbeen scared, I’d be worried.”
“So, bravery is worrisome?” Camila asked, her doubt on full display. While the conversation was far from conventional, at least this was a topic he could speak to. Plus, talking about fear versus bravery at a high level kept them from swerving into more dangerous territory, like personal emotions and the past and how much he still wanted to kiss her after an entire freaking year, so, really, Roman was all for it.
“Not being scared in the face of danger isn’t bravery.”
He sat back in his chair and tried really hard to ignore the bolt of satisfaction unfolding in his gut at the way she’d polished off a few more chips.
Focus, asshole. And not on her mouth.
Roman cleared his throat. “Fear is a normal, natural human response to danger. The more danger a person faces, the higher their level of fear.”
“I’m definitely with you so far,” Camila said, and he nodded.
“But bravery doesn’t happen when a person isn’t scared. Bravery is what happens when a person is scared shitless and can react anyway.”
She considered this. “So, what? You’re saying bravery is just a matter of having good instincts?”
“Sort of.”
The server appeared again, this time with two salt-rimmed margaritas. Roman lifted his chin in thanks, waiting until the server had placed both glasses on the table, then retreated to the kitchen, before continuing.
“In a lot of cases, bravery is a matter of training. Think of it like this. You see a burning building, what’s your first instinct?”
Camila laughed and lifted her glass in salute. “To run as far away as possible. Obviously.”
“Mine, too. But the firefighters at Station Seventeen run toward the fire, and in some cases, they even run into it. It still doesn’t necessarily make them braver than me or you by default. It does, however, make them better trained to manage their fear enough to fight fires.”
“I wouldn’t let Gamble or Shae or Hawkins hear you say that,” Camila replied, but Roman just shrugged.
“Not only would I totally say it to all three of them, but I bet they’d agree.” He didn’t know any of them all that well, personally, but he did know they were great firefighters—some of the best in the city. Anyone who could read the newspaper knew that. “I guarantee they’re all scared as hell when they roll up on a fire. The difference is, they’ve been trained to override that fear and act, and then they do exactly that.That’swhat makes them brave.”
Camila took a long sip of her margarita, clearly mulling his words over, before she surprised him by conceding (sort of). “Okay, but what about not being scared at all? How is that bad?”
“Remember that normal human response thing?” He waited for her nod before continuing. “Fear keeps people human. It means they’re functioning exactly as they should be. If a person doesn’t feel it, it’s a sign that they’re not connected to reality anymore. Which is, obviously, a big red flag.”
Roman had been an FBI agent long enough to be able to recognize when a criminal had crossed that line, and it rarely ended well.
“I guess that makes sense,” Camila said, then lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I still wasn’t exactly able to handle my fear in that bank, though.”
Was she kidding? “You stood up to armed bank robbers in order to get Rosalie the help she needed, even though you were scared,” he pointed out. “That sounds pretty brave to me.”
Here, her expression grew wry. “Andyoutold those same armed bank robbers I wasn’t strong enough to help.”
Shock kicked him right in the solar plexus. “You think I told him that because I think you’re weak?”
She rolled her eyes and took another long draw from her drink. “Um, yeah. Why else would you tell him that?”
Her tone marked the question as genuine, andshit. She really didn’t know. “Because I’m a field-trained FBI agent, Camila. It’s literally my job to keep people out of harm’s way. Even if that means putting myself directly in its path.”
A beat passed. Then another. Then her eyes flew wide. “Wait. So you said that…”
