Page 48 of Fanning the Flames

The metal awning raised outside, bathing the interior of the truck in weak sunlight.

Mark scraped the diced peppers to one side. “The only way it would stick is if the Supers publicly said something. And as much as it’s been civil with them, they won’t admit they didn’t bring us to justice. Letting us walk away means they’ll let anyone off the hook.”

“Which would send the wrong message to active Villains,” Sadie murmured.

“Exactly.”

Joanie rejoined them. Concern creased the skin between her eyebrows—a worry wrinkle that was more and more present every day.

Sadie rested the spoon in the pot and held her arms open. “Come here.”

Joan didn’t hesitate to accept the hug.

“You too, Markie. Get over here.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You both need this.”

Despite his nonchalance, he squeezed his arms tightly around them. His hug held the same weight as his sister’s—the deep need for human connection.

“You two are amazing,” Sadie said. “I’ve always known that, and I am historically an excellent judge of character.”

They all laughed at that totally untrue fact.

Mark squeezed once more before letting go. “Let’s have strong sales today, Team Hot and Cold.”

Joan nestled into the hug, dislodging her ballcap. Her familiar scent of ginger and citrus wafted in the air.

Warmth flowed through Sadie’s veins. Not just from Joan’s natural heat, but from how much she loved giving Joanie reassurance. Her support meant everything. There had to be more Sadie could do to return the favor.

When they separated, she said, “I could tell people you rescued me. I mean, that Spark rescued me. I could come forward as the?—”

“No. Don’t put yourself through that. You’d be subjected to public scrutiny, which would draw attention to me, and Mark, and the food truck, and how we came out of nowhere with no traceable history or background.”

“I could speak off the record. Say something like I’m hiding my identity ’cause I’m worried about other Villains retaliating. I want your story to be told.”

Readjusting her hat, Joan said, “It’s not a good idea. And again, it doesn’t matter what people think.”

“I just…”

“Thank you, and I love you, but no. Leave it be.”

She slid the service window open, ready to start the day. Maybe it was an overstep to push her on this, but Joan deserved better. To not have the norms thinking she was in cahoots with Prowl. Prowl was awful.

Shoot. This was a complicated dance between support, respect, and not being Pushy Sadie. Part of her wanted everyone to know how great Joan was to prove Sadie had broken her streak of bad relationships and found a truly heroic partner. But that was putting too much focus on what other people wanted. Or at least what she thought they wanted. People-pleasing.

What mattered more was what Joan wanted and needed. And right now, that was backing off from what had happened and focusing on what was to come.

CHAPTER9

That night, Sadie sipped her chamomile tea and caught up on things on her phone. She tucked her feet under the bottom rung of the tall barstool at the kitchen island. It was bedtime, and she still had to wash up and hopefully find the energy to fool around with Joanie.

Joan came out of the bedroom in a loose black cotton tank and tiny matching shorts, her short, dark waves of hair begging to be gripped in the heat of passion.

Sadie’s mouth watered. A zing zipped through her belly and zoomed down, down, down. One look at her hot girlfriend was a better boost than any energy drink.

“Greta’s back in town,” Joan said. “She just texted to let me know.”

---