Page 41 of Burning Hearts
“He’s not—” I tripped over the denial like it was a cord.
“—to keep those shoulders where Riverfield can appreciate them.”
She’d shown mercy, disguised as mischief.
“Capability photographs well,” she added with a wink.
“It does,” I said.
“Drink water,” she added, already turning away to straighten a napkin holder.
Some towns run on gas; Riverfield runs on Miss Pearl Adjustments.
I stepped into the brightness with biscuits and caffeine and let her rules settle me. Walking across the Commons, I thumbed open Voice Memos.
“Update forTown Talk,” I said. “Suppression engaged quickly. Exit lanes cleared. Eighty-four accounted. Zero injuries—credit to Riverfield Fire, the Marshal’s office, and hotel staff. Lantern Room and Portico will have standard checks.”
I listened once. No lace, just thread. I sent it to Beau and couldn’t stop myself from copying Miss Pearl as well.
A story pinged—a shaky video of the chaos with my own face blurred in the soft haze. Lips moving, counting, right at the moment my chest remembered the exact weight of a firefighter’s palm. I saved the clip like a producer and tried not to admit I’d done it like a person.
Directions, not drama, I told myself.
My nerves, ever unhelpful, added a footnote:And don’t forget the hand.
I opened a new message to Cade.
You okay?
Delete. Too intimate.
Then,Thank you for last night.
Delete. Way too intimate.
I tried again:If you need a clean recap for press, I’ve got it typed up.
My thumb hovered over send long enough for the screen to go dark and throw my face back at me. I copied the text into Notes instead, locked the phone, and told myself that, for now, the only things I was allowed to send were numbers and schedules.
The rest—the weight of his palm, that one clean step backward—could stay where my body had already filed it: unsent, unforgettable.
CHAPTER TEN
CADE
By eight I’dalready drawn the lines I needed to live inside.
Wyatt ran the Portico debrief with his usual clean cadence—what happened, why it happened, what kept it controlled.
He gave me a look, and I kept it short and boring.
“Heads counted, lanes cleared, suppressant did its job.”
The crew tried the usual ribbing, calling out “#TeamSignal saved by #TeamBrew.” So, I brought it back to reality.
“It was work,” I said.
Wyatt finished with the only sentence that mattered. “Fire safety matters in Riverfield. Carry it.”
