Page 755 of Hell Hath No Fury
And then he would spin, spin away just like he always did when things got personal.
CHAPTER TWO
Kennedy stood in front of the squat red building, tapping the corner of the envelope into her leg, the sharp point a faint but welcome sting. Her actual pain had dried up quickly under the impersonal care of the nurses and doctors. She didn’t remember much from last night, just waiting in the emergency room, flashes of a doctor’s lips telling her there was no buildup in her lungs.
And him.
Then he’d been gone and she couldn’t remember exactly how that happened; he had been a blur. She had woken up hooked to a little machine that wavered between 95 and 98 and beeped angrily if she held her breath for a few seconds. One last checkup and she was turned loose into the city with nowhere to go.
Her house was gone. Her business—gone.
At least until she could build it all back up again, and somehow, this felt like the first step. To thank the man who’d saved her life, to find out what he’d almost said on the grass. This was the closure before new beginnings. This was the haze of smoke on the way into the open night air.
The front desk inside the fire station was empty.
“Hello?” she called.
Nothing.
She glanced back through the windowed doors before deciding to press forward. The only direction was onward when the past had burned to dust. There was a row of empty offices, mostly shut, one door open, the light off. A break room held two tables and a fridge—no one there.
The last door opened to a large room, almost a warehouse. It looked like a fire truck had been parked here, although it was empty now. On the far corner, a small TV set played the news in front of a couch. Her footsteps echoed on the concrete, bouncing off the walls and circling back to her.
He peered over the back of the couch, sitting up. On seeing her, he stood and stretched, his movements unhurried. There was recognition in his slowness.
She approached him and gestured to the empty place where a truck would go. “Is there a fire?”
“Nah. They’re visiting an elementary school. Giving the old fire safety talk.”
The envelope poked her leg—tap,tap,tap. “No candles on the dresser.”
He nodded slowly. “There’s some mention of that, I believe.”
She made a face, some mixture of embarrassment and regret.
His head cocked to the side. “It was an accident. Not even your accident.”
“It was my candle.”—
He shrugged, and she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.I don’t caredidn’t seem right.It doesn’t mattercouldn’t be it, considering she had almost died, and he could have. It was more like:shit happens.And he should know, working here.
She held out the envelope. “This is for you.”
It was a standard greeting card from the hospital gift shop, not something she’d made. All her materials were charred or soot-drenched now, wrapped up securely behind police tape. She was used to handcrafting every card, saying with craft what she couldn’t say with words. This was a blank card. Writing a message inside had felt strangely personal.
He stared at the cheap beige paper, looking almost… offended.
After a beat of confusion, she explained: “It’s a thank-you card.”
His frown deepened, but he took the card from her. His arm swung loosely at his side, the envelope swishing against the rough, sooty fabric of his pants. The material of the envelope was cheap, generic.
Inexplicably, she felt hollow. She told herself it wasn’t personal. He’d taken the card, and that was all she had to give him. But his aloofness felt like a physical door between them, locked up tight with the clench of his jaw.Not interested, it said, before she’d even thought to ask the question.
No, that was a lie. His rugged good looks had sketched the possibility in her mind. His gruff kindness had practically engraved it.
“Well. Thanks again. You know for… saving my life.” Awkward didn’t begin to describe this.
She turned to leave, and was already at the door when she felt a telltale whoosh of minty air. She froze in place, knowing he stood behind her. He didn’t touch her, not on any part of her body. He didn’t block her exit. But she felt the request in his speed and sudden stillness:don’t go.
