Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,91
though, right?” Tibbs echoed exactly what had been on my mind.
I sighed, refusing to lie to my best friend and honestly just wanting someone to talk to. “Tibbs, I don’t think she is okay. How can she be? It’s a lot for anyone to process and she hasn’t. Like at all. She won’t talk about any of it. It’s like that part no longer exists. And while I know I’m no shrink, repressing it can’t be healthy. One way or another, it’s going to work its way to the surface, and she won’t be ready for it when it does.”
He blew out a low whistle, shaking his head because, deep down, I think he already knew. “Shit, maybe I need to talk to my parents. See if they can get through to her.”
“No,” I fired out, waving my hands in the air. “Last thing she needs is a fucking ambush. I won’t have her thinking—however inaccurate—that we’re all ganging up on her. It’s about control, Tibbs. She needs to have it. We take that away and all of it will implode.”
I didn’t want to even think about it, knowing she could easily shut out every single one of us or even leave all together. That club owner would kill to have her move to fucking Hong Kong, and while they were still ironing out the particulars for the second Diablo site, no papers had been signed. One wrong move and she’d be on a plane, flipping us all off and miles away. And then what? Not only would I lose the fucking love of my life, but she’d be fucking alone.
Wasn’t happening.
Not on my watch.
“I’m not sitting around, Leighton and waiting for her to have a nervous breakdown, if that’s what you’re suggesting. She’s my fucking, sister.” Tibbs warned, clear that he wasn’t happy with the situation either.
I nodded, agreeing that one way or another it was going to come to a head. “So let’s think about this logically. We’re firemen. How would we treat this if it was a fire?”
Women were complicated. And as much as I liked to pretend I understood them, most times I was just guessing. Fire was complicated too, but I knew the fucking rules. And if you knew the rules, the conditions, the circumstances—there wasn’t a blaze you couldn’t extinguish. But you go in not knowing—or at least with a good estimation on—the variables you’re going to end up hurt, and worse, the fire wins.
“Presley’s a warehouse. Internal fire. No idea if there’s additional accelerant, or how many individual fires are going. We need to stop the flames before they compromise the structure.”
Tibbs thought for a second. “Multi-lines, roof access, containing the blaze is more important than putting it out. Once that shit is burnt, it’s done. And if you keep it back, stop it from spreading, you can still salvage the building. Easy to rebuild a room that is charred rather than have to start from the foundations.”
“You forgot the most important part, Tibbs.” I shook my head, knowing he was only half-right. “You do all that, but you need to ask the owner of the building what the hell was in there burning first.”
Keeping the fire to one room is smart. Like Tibbs said, once it’s burnt, it’s burnt. It can’t reburn, and eventually once it runs out of accelerant, it puts itself out. But what if there’s rocket fuel in that one room. The place will be blown to bits regardless of how much you try and contain it. Which is why warehouses usually have those fancy signs letting us know what the flammable liquids or chemicals are inside. And if we don’t know, Cap is on the horn finding the hell out.
“She’s going to have to help us put out the fire, Tibbs. No amount of surrounding and drowning will work unless we have an ironclad guarantee that shit isn’t going to level the block.”
You had to know.
Or have a really fucking good estimated guess.
And with Presley, we didn’t.
She was asleep when I got to her apartment.
I’d spent more time there than I had my own place, already out of my uniform and sliding into bed beside her. She was warm, the comforter doing its job, covering her naked body until I was able to take over. My lips pressed against her shoulder, a small moan escaping her lips as she leaned into me, and it was easy to believe everything was okay.