Page 20 of Code Red Chemistry

“Says the guy who’s spent five years avoiding the woman he claims to love,” Mack mutters.

Jake, a born peacemaker, ignores our friend. “So, how do you think Alex will react?”

“Probably kill me,” I mutter, my stomach twisting into a knot at the thought.

“You think?” Jake leans against one of the trucks. “I mean, surely, the guy knows you well enough to take something like this seriously. Is he the type to fly off the handle?”

“No,” I mutter, thinking of my level-headed friend, who kept his cool even when we were stranded on the side of the road in the middle of a snowstorm a couple of years ago.

“Plus,” Jake adds, “Zoe will be there to defend you, right?”

“Eventually,” I confirm, “but I want to break the news alone.”

“Hell,” Mack says, grabbing hold of the pull-up bar. “Maybe, you want to wait for her to show. I mean, if you can go from this girl flat-out rejecting you to now defending your ass in a matter of weeks, you really don’t need my help.”

But before I can assure him I want to talk to Alex alone then surprise Zoe at dinner, a deafening alarm slices through the air like a blade, making us all jump. My heart plummets to my boots at the repeating siren, which is nothing like the standard chime for a regular call. Sure enough, within seconds, the dispatcher’s voice crackles over the speaker, calm, but urgent.

“Attention all units, this is all call for a hazardous materials incident on East Fifty-seventh. Repeat, an all call with full response. All available personnel respond immediately. Hazmat protocols in effect. Standby for additional details.”

“No, no, no.” I check my watch again, the numbers swimming before my eyes. “Not now.”

But Captain and Brock come rushing out of the office as the siren keeps wailing.

“Good thing you’re already here, Reyes,” Captain calls as the emergency lights flash orange, and we all sprint for our gear.

I’ll be lucky if I make it to dinner at all, now.

Zoe

The rich aroma ofgarlic and red sauce fills Alex and Kristina’s apartment. I swirl the last sip of merlot in my glass, trying to focus on Alex’s story about cleaning out the training room. He’s an athletic trainer for the Nighthawks so, much to Kristina's chagrin, we can easily head down a rabbit hole, talking shop. But the pro hockey team didn’t make the playoffs this season, so there are no diagnoses or treatment plans to discuss tonight.

Which is good because my mind keeps drifting to Levi, anyway. To the fun texting since our date on Wednesday. And to Sunday, when we both have the day off and our plans include discovering how an actual bed treats us. My thighs squeeze tight at the thought.

“Earth to Zoe,” Kristina says, reaching across the table to refill my glass. “You’ve been a million miles away all night.”

“Sorry.” I watch the burgundy liquid swirl and refocus. “Thank you for having me over tonight. Everything was delicious, and it’s been great to see you both.”

“We’re happy to celebrate your enormous accomplishment,” she says with a smile. “But now that your residency is wrapping up, I thought you might have time to meet that guy from the office I told you about. Remember? His name is Brad, and I really think you two would hit it off.”

“Oh, well, actually…” I start, debating how to turn down the offer, considering these two think I’m single. And Levi and I haven’t exactly nailed down when or how we might want to tell my brother.

“You should meet the guy, Zo,” Alex says, forking another bite of cascatelli. “He’s a finance guy, but not the boring kind. He… Sorry, babe,” he adds, catching his wife’s unamused look. Kristina is a wealth manager, who specializes in athletes, which sounds like an awesome job, but she has assured me many times it’s not as exciting as it sounds.

“I’m not sure…” I trail a finger up and down the stem of my glass, determined to change the topic.

But Alex continues before I can. “Oh, and speaking of guys… Levi texted that he’s still hoping to make it tonight. Some hazmat emergency, although knowing him, it could just be an excuse. I meant to tell you earlier.”

My fingers grip the stem, threatening to snap it in two. “You invited Levi tonight?”

Alex’s brows knit together at my outburst.

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “figured he might want to celebrate your accomplishment. I mean, after all, it’s been what, five years since he’s seen you?”

My stomach plummets. Levi didn’t tell me he was coming tonight. Didn’t even mention he was invited. I flip over my phone and double check the notifications. Sure enough, hehasn’t texted at all. In hours. For a split second, my chest constricts. Here we go again.

But then I catch myself. Because the Levi I’ve gotten to know these past couple of weeks wouldn’t offer a lame excuse or no show without a good reason. Not the man who appeared at the hospital bearing flowers and gummy worms. Not the one who bared his soul over virgin mojitos. He must be helping with a genuine emergency.

“Actually,” I say, setting down my glass with trembling fingers, “Levi and I have seen each other recently.”

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