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But rather than say any of those things, Sam asked, “Why do you do that?”
The question landed with far more curiosity than accusation, surprising her just enough to ask, “Do what?”
“Let your brain second-guess your instincts,” he said. “You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Your intuition is spot on, and you know I’m not the kind of guy who would say that if I didn’t really fucking mean it. So, how come you don’t trust your gut?”
“Because…”
The last time I did, it almost ended my career.
For one bright beat of a moment, Lucy nearly told him the truth. SheknewSam. She’d gone into dozens of burning buildings right alongside him, and this week, they’d grown closer than ever, talking and laughing late into every night. There was a good man lurking beneath that cocky façade, even if he didn’t want to admit it, one who would hold her secret in confidence.
But itwasa secret, one she’d gone to great lengths to keep hidden from everyone at Seventeen for three long years. The past was over. Done. She couldn’t change the mistake she’d made when she’d trusted her stupid, foolish emotions to lead the way rather than keeping her head about her and sticking to common sense.
But shecouldcontinue to make sure history never repeated itself.
She had to. Her career—her heart—wouldn’t survive it twice.
“Because facts make more sense to me,” Lucy said with a shrug, and it wasn’t untrue. “Gut feelings are influenced by emotions. They’re rarely accurate and often impulsive, which usually means they’re also dangerous.”
“Not always,” Sam countered, but on this, she couldn’t budge.
“Often enough to make them a risk I’m not interested in taking.”
“Even though your gut led you to uncovering a legitimate case of arson?”
She paused, her heart tapping faster. “We were following your instincts. Not mine. I went to the warehouse to prove you wrong, remember?”
He sat back in his chair, and for a minute, Lucy was sure he’d push, reminding her that she’d thought something was off about the fire, too. His determination wasn’t limited to firefighting and arson investigation, and damn it, she didn’t think she’d be able to stay strong in the face of all that easy confidence.
The sound of her cell phone chiming out the familiar ringtone she’d assigned to her father cut through the silence, and even though it had startled Lucy halfway out of her seat, she was grateful as hell for the interruption.
“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” she murmured. She’d only touched base with her father once via text since she’d been benched, and if she skipped a weekly call, he’d worry that something was wrong.
“Of course,” Sam said. “I’ll go grab some coffee.”
“Oh, no. You don’t have to,” Lucy said, waving him back into the chair he’d just moved to vacate. They’d already downed at least a pot apiece, and Sam was fidgety as it was. She suspected it was his baseline, but still. It was a call with her dad, not some national secret, and she’d make it quick anyway. “I won’t be long.”
Palming her phone, she hit the green icon to answer the call and lifted the phone to her ear. “Hi, Dad.”
“Lucy.” His familiar baritone never failed to make her smile, including now. “How are you? How are things at the academy?”
“I’m good. Busy,” she added, the stack of file folders and fact-packed whiteboard in her peripheral vision making it a massive understatement. “Actually, Captain Bridges asked me to assist the arson investigation unit and the RPD on the warehouse fire. It’s kind of a long story.”
“It sounds like it,” her father said after a beat of surprise.
“I’m here at the office right now, so I can’t really talk. But I promise to fill you in soon, okay?”
“Breakfast,” he said, making her smile again. “You pick the day. And do your old man a favor, please, and stay safe.”
Lucy nodded even though he couldn’t see her, as if to seal the promise. “I will. Is everything okay with you?”
“Right as rain. Go on and get your work done. I love you, baby girl.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
She ended the call, returning her phone to the back pocket of her jeans. “Sorry. I haven’t talked to him all week, and he’s kind of old school. He says texting isn’t the same as hearing my voice. I know that’s a little silly, considering I’m twenty-six, but I don’t want him to worry.”
“I don’t think that’s silly at all,” Sam said, curiosity sparking in his light brown stare. “It’s just the two of you, right?”
