She takes us to the kitchen area, and I stand in front of the stove, pretending to cook something.
“Okay,” Charlie says, holding an actual stopwatch, the likes of which I haven’t seen since high school, and pointing like a very friendly drill sergeant. “This one starts in the kitchen. Let’s say there’s a grease fire on the stove and smoke is pouring up from it. What do you do first?”
“Panic,” I say solemnly.
She cracks a smile. “After that.”
“If it’s a small fire, I grab the baking soda and pour it on the fire.”
“Very good! And if it’s a big fire? Already licking the walls?”
“Exit the building, along witheveryone else. Calmly. Without rescuing the flaming quesadilla that betrayed me.”
“Correct. Bonus points for not grabbing flammable food. When do you call nine-one-one for help?”
“When I’m safe outside.”
She smiles. “And…” she says, holding up the stopwatch, “big fire starts now. Let’s go!” We run out of the townhome, down the stairs, and to the tree in the front yard. Charlie presses the stop button. “That was good. Want to run the drill from upstairs?”
“I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do right now.”
So we do. She has me start in the upstairs bathroom, and we both test our doorknobs for heat before opening them, then we crawl under an imaginary cloud of smoke on our way to the stairs. She was extra impressed that I handed her an imaginary damp cloth to hold over her nose and mouth to keep her from inhaling too much smoke.
“You know,” I say, mid-crawl, “this is exactly how I imagined our evening going.”
Charlie laughs. “I knew you were the type to dream of tactical drills.”
“I like a girl who keeps me on my toes. And keeps me from catching on fire.”
After the third drill, we head back into Charlie’s place, both winded but grinning, especially since Charlie announced that we got the fastest time ever. Iwrap my arms around her and say, “I’ll always do everything I can to keep you safe.”
She tilts her head to look at me, and gives me a very sincere, “Thank you. For running the drills. And especially for not making fun of my fears. For just reassuring me.”
I smile, kiss her forehead, then whisper, “Always.”
CHAPTER 23
CANDLELIGHT AND SHADOWS
CHARLIE
I’ve been dreaming about my picnic date with Owen all day. Okay, maybe notallday. I did run support on a mission to scan a briefcase during a staged elevator malfunction in Hong Kong that Miles and Kella did together. But whenever I wasn’t decoding the elevator’s operating system, which—fun fact—was entirely in Cantonese and had a font I’m convinced was Comic Sans, or perfectly timing a power surge in the hotel to stall the elevator right when Miles sneezed so he could get a scan of the briefcase, I was thinking about seeing Owen.
Owen said he just barely got home from work in time to take a quick shower before our date, and I just got home in time to change into jeans and a sweater, so that worked out perfectly. I mean, as perfectly as “very nearly late” can be.
But we are both ready to just leave everything behind and enjoy tonight. Owen says he already has everything we need waiting at the theater except the food, which he already ordered from Board & Butter, a new restaurant only a block away from the theater. He parks his truck near the restaurant, and after we pick up the bag of food, we walk to a coffee shop closer to the theater to get Italian sodas.
It always amazes me that, in a public place, other people can just be in their own world instead of scanning the faces of everyone they’re passing by. Or memorizing who is in the general vicinity, so if that same person shows up somewhere else, they’ll know to be cautious. Looking for any suspicious actions. Keeping an eye out for any danger.
It’s not just Owen who can walk down the street without a care. I’ve noticed it with friends, too. They all can just walk, blissfully assuming that nothing will happen.
I know it’s a spy thing because everyone else in my family keeps a constant eye out for danger, too. And I’m sure that being on comms and video with Jace while he’s on a mission makes me constantly keep an eye out even more, since he’s quite often around danger. It means it’s extra important for me to also watch for possible issues.
All of Owen’s crew has gone home for the day, and the place is locked up, so Owen opens thefront doors with his keys and locks them behind him, then leads us up the curving staircase. There are only a couple of lights on here and there that I’m guessing stay on during the night to deter thieves, and there’s also enough light filtering through high windows to see just fine.
It’s all I can do to keep from asking Owen to take a quick lap through the building with me just to check for danger first. I tell that part of my brain that it can chill out already, because Owen does that before he leaves each day. Besides, I’m with Owen. The guy who would wake from a deep sleep to protect me from an intruder, wielding nothing more than a powerless drill. I am safe with him.
It’s only been a week and a half since I last saw this place, but so much has been done since then. No part is completed, yet—everything is still in some state of unfinished construction. It’s comforting. It means it’s going to be a while before Owen moves on to the next project.
