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“It helped me start to get past what happened,” she said. “At least, it helped me learn to trust all of you guys when I was placed at Seventeen.”
A beat passed as Sam processed what she’d said. Then another while he processed what she hadn’t. “But not to trust other firefighters outside of the job.”
And there it was. “It took me a while to trustanyonein a relationship,” Lucy said, adding a laugh that didn’t hold much joy. “Even though ‘relationship’ isn’t really a fitting word. I stuck to flings for a long time. Things I knew wouldn’t last. Even when I did consider maybe trying something more serious, the job makes it pretty hard to get past date number three with anyone. But, to answer your question, no. I’ve never trusted another firefighter. Until now.”
“Lucy.” He pulled back to look at her, his gaze so intense, she practically felt it like a touch. “I don’t…I’m not…” He stopped. Blew out a breath. Then said, “I’m not good at getting the words right sometimes, especially for stuff like this, where a lot of thoughts fly around in my head.”
“That’s okay,” she said. She’d noticed the way his thoughts seemed to overwhelm him sometimes, especially when they were working on the case. To be honest, she’d been a little surprised not to have picked up on it before. But Sam seemed pretty good at both managing it and hiding it, and she didn’t want to push. People all had their methods of processing. Lucy wasn’t about to make him self-conscious just because his thoughts didn’t always turn on a dime.
Sam shook his head, his hair shushing against the pillow. “No, it’s not okay. This deserves to be said, out loud, the right way. I don’t know what this thing between us is, or what it might become. I guess we’ll figure that out as we go. But I need you to know, no matter what that means, I would never,everhurt you.”
Lucy’s heart caught in her throat. She’d intended last night to be the only night. Hell, she’dintendedto follow the rules, do her job, and keep her bed free of firefighters and her heart fully guarded for the rest of her life.
But she hadn’t counted on Sam Faurier wrecking every last one of those plans. And she really hadn’t counted on wanting him to.
Yet here she was. Wanting exactly that. Wantinghim.
Not wanting to fight the past anymore.
“I know,” she said.
And even though her defenses tapped out a warning—too close, too close—Lucy felt too good in the cradle of Sam’s arms to do anything other than let him hold her.
20
Sam wanted to stay in Lucy’s bed and hold her all day. His brain, as scattered as it was, knew this was logistically impossible, as well as highly impractical. They’d have to get up to use the bathroom and eat eventually, and there were the not-small matters of replacing Lucy’s phone and filing insurance reports, reaching out to let everyone at Seventeen know they were both okay, and heading to the Thirty-Third to try and hunt down an arsonist. But between the intensity of their night together and the way Lucy had opened up to him this morning, Sam’s instinct was to keep his arms wrapped around her and not let go. Which should probably scare the ever-loving shit out of him, considering he’d have slipped out in the middle of the night to sleep in his own damn bed if she’d been anyone else.
But she wasn’t anyone else. And being with her felt too good not to savor.
Eventually, though, reality—and the need for thorough caffeination—won out. “We should probably get moving,” Lucy said. “I’ve got a spare travel kit in the bathroom that you can use. I keep them handy for when we’re on shift. You know, as a backup.”
“Of course you do,” Sam said, laughing softly as he kissed the top of her head, letting go of her just in time to catch her wry smile.
“It never hurts to be prepared.”
He hummed in agreement. “I know. I always keep a change of clothes and a toothbrush in the Jeep in case I work a double shift.”
Lucy’s blink of surprise shouldn’t fill him with so much satisfaction, but it totally fucking did. “You do?”
“Just following the Boy Scout motto,” he said, pulling on his boxer briefs and jeans with a wink. “Gotta be prepared. I’ll be back in five.”
Shouldering his way into the Henley he’d discarded on the floor in Lucy’s hallway, Sam hustled downstairs, then through the frigid morning air. He grabbed his bag from the Jeep with record speed—damn,it was cold as balls today—and headed back to the apartment building. He scanned the block out of pure habit, cataloguing the handful of people moving quickly down the street, the light mid-morning traffic, the bright sunshine glinting off the windows of the shops and other buildings lining the block. A young blond woman balanced a well-bundled baby on her hip, heading toward her Volvo in the parking lot. An older Black man made a beeline for the dry cleaner’s on the corner, slipping quickly inside and looking grateful to be out of the cold. A twenty-something white guy in a hoodie and jean jacket stood in a storefront alcove across from Lucy’s apartment building, his eyes darting from the street to his phone.
Weird, Sam thought, his thoughts snagging briefly on the man. Everyone else—including Sam himself—was trying to getoutof the cold. Why wouldn’t this guy go into the store behind him?
A gust of wind hit Sam in a tooth-rattling blast, and okay, enough pontificating. His thoughts would bounce around like a pinball on uppers if he let them, and there was no point worrying why some random guy was waiting for his Uber outside rather than in when he could be back in the cozy warmth of Lucy’s apartment. Sam jogged back to the building’s main door so she could buzz him in, double-timing the stairs to shake off the residual chill of having been outside.
“Hey,” she said, handing off a cup of coffee as soon as he crossed the threshold.
“Ah,yes.Thanks.” He followed her to the kitchen, taking a long sip and letting it warm him. “It’s cold as hell out.”
Lucy’s smile was bittersweet, but there. “I figured we could both use the wakeup call before we dive back into reality.”
Sam nodded, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, where he always kept his cell phone. Everyone at Seventeen had texted him at least twice, most of them with variations of “are you okay?” and “what the hell is going on?” and—his personal favorite, from Shae—“if you don’t take care of Lucy, I’m going to kick your ass”.
“Everyone at the house is worried,” he said, holding up his phone.
“I figured word would travel fast.” She winced, then cursed softly. “I’m going to have to find a way to call my father. If he hears about this from someone other than me—”
