Jess worked her ass off. I’d watched her grind through long days, double markets, early mornings and late nights. She kept Pour Decisions running with caffeine, charisma, and sheer force of will. But I’d also overheard enough small-town gossip to bewell aware she didn’t have some secret trust fund sitting around waiting for moments like this.
“No,” I said. “She can’t.”
He didn’t argue. Moose was a lot of things, but oblivious wasn’t one of them.
“Losing December is gonna gut her,” he said quietly. “Even if insurance covers some of it.”
I closed my eyes briefly, counting backward from ten like that might slow the spin of my thoughts. December was everything for her. Holiday catering, special drinks, festival nights, the Twelve Stops of Christmas. All of that was… now this.
“I know,” I said.
We finished out the scene, draining and loading hoses, stowing tools, Captain MacAvoy doing his last walk-around. It all blurred together, muscle memory taking over. My brain kept replaying two images like a flipbook: Jess’s face when she saw the truck, and the way she’d felt against my side.
When we finally rolled back into the station bay, the adrenaline dip hit hard.
I hung my gear in my locker, the smell of smoke puffing out with every movement. The sounds of the others filtered around me—locker doors slamming, low voices, someone cracking a joke that got a tired laugh.
I just stood there for a second, hands braced on either side of the open locker, head down.
Almost.
We had almost been too late.
“Hey.” Moose’s voice came from behind me. “You gonna shower or just marinate in eau de burnt coffee all night?”
“Working up to it,” I said.
He came around to lean against the next locker, arms folded. For a big guy, he had a real talent for loitering with intent. “If you wanted to go check on her later, I’d cover your chores.”
“I’m not going to the hospital,” I said. “Her friend took her. She doesn’t need me hovering around like some—” I caught myself before I said creep. “—like some guy who thinks pulling her out of a fire earns him points.”
Moose’s mouth twitched. “You know what you looked like when Pepper took her?”
“Don’t.”
“Like a man who watched his girl walk away with somebody else at prom.”
“She’s not my girl,” I snapped.
He held up both hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay. She’s not your girl.”
Silence stretched between us for a beat.
“She really hates me,” I said, softer.
He huffed. “Buddy, I have no idea what history you two have, but I’m telling you right now—people don’t lean on someone they hate like that. They might tolerate them. They might use ’em in an emergency. But the way she held onto you? That wasn’t casual.”
I flashed back to the feel of her weight against my side, the way her fingers had curled into the edge of the blanket, knuckles brushing my thigh. The way she’d let her head tip the slightest bit toward me when she’d thought nobody was watching.
“Her walls were down,” I said. “She was in shock.”
“Sure,” Moose agreed. “But they were down. That’s new.”
He wasn’t wrong. For ten years, Jess Donnegan had treated me like a walking inconvenience at best and a personal affront at worst. Tonight, for the first time, she’d looked at me like I was… something else. Safe, perhaps. Solid. I wanted more of that look, and I hated the reason I’d gotten it.
“It kills me that it took this,” I said quietly. “A fire. Almost losing everything.”
Moose watched me for a long moment. “So don’t let it end there.”
