Chapter Nine

Owen had been picking up extra shifts to earn more money that he could donate to the youth center. He'd been carrying extra weight for days. He said he didn't blame her, but Evelyn felt guilty. She wanted to do more for him. Especially since he'd made the news—well, not him, but the fire he'd been fighting.

She'd ordered dinner in, had already taken Probie on an extended walk, and had one of Owen's favorite black-and-white movies queued up on the TV. Tonight was going to be just about him. When he walked through the door, he looked worn out. The extra hours were taking a toll on him. Today's fire added to that burden.

"Hey," he said as he kicked off his shoes. "What're you doing here? Thought you'd be working."

Another pang of guilt struck. She had been working a lot. Trying to get the show up and running was no simple task.

Before she had a chance to answer, he said, "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I know you've been busy." He hefted a sigh. "I'm not going to be very good company tonight." He dropped his bag and jacket on the chair.

"I wanted to see you." No. She needed to see him. When he stared at her, she continued, "The fire made the news, and I saw your truck on the scene. I knew you were working, but I didn't see you."

"You shouldn't watch things like that."

"I don't. Usually. But I was at the station and it came up on a screen in the background and I couldn't not look. How are you?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine. Just tired."

She sighed instead of saying, "Don't be stupid." She couldn't imagine how he'd be fine. Two kids had died in the fire. He was probably beating himself up for not finding them in time. It didn't matter that they had rescued twenty other people.

"I don't want to talk about it." As he walked past her, he kissed her head and kept moving.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just go home. I'll call you tomorrow."

He headed toward the bedroom, and she sat for a minute. Sometimes, he was hard to read. Hell, most of the time he was. She wanted to help him, but he closed off. It looked like this was going to be one of those times she would have to push up against him, so she followed.

She stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "You don't get to push me away. I wouldn't let you do it when we were friends. I'm not going to let you do it now. Talk to me."

He was at the dresser, head down, hands fisted. "I can't."

She stepped closer and placed a tentative hand on his back. His muscles quivered beneath her touch. He rarely talked about his job and what he did. Sure, he was always quick with a funny story, but not the tough stuff. Not the calls that got to him.

Those he bottled up.

Evelyn knew he did it, but it wasn't until right now that she realized how hard that was. She stroked his back. His muscles bunched and flexed in response.

"You always take care of me. Everyone, really. Let me take care of you for a change." When her hand touched his side, he winced. He'd been hurt. "What happened?"

He straightened and shoved away from the dresser. "Not now, Evelyn. I can't."

When she looked into his eyes, she saw his torment. She tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head. Sure enough, a bruise bigger than the span of her hand bloomed on his side. She leaned forward and kissed his chest. He trembled.

"Let me make you feel better," she whispered against his skin. If he wouldn't use words, she'd let him use his body.

He released a rough sigh. Then he gripped her upper arms and pushed her away. "I can't. Not like this. I—"

She saw it then. He was on edge, barely holding on to the tight control that he used to get through life. "You don't scare me, Owen. I know you won't hurt me. Use me to feel better. I'll give you anything you need."

The rapid rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he'd heard her, that she was having any effect on him whatsoever.

"Go home," he said gruffly.

"No." She stood her ground.

He closed his eyes, so she made her move, getting close to him again. She touched his neck and slid her hand up to his hair. His eyes reopened on a growl. Knocking her hand away, he thrust both of his hands into her hair to hold her head. He kissed her hard then. They came together in a mashing of lips and teeth and tongues. He tightened his hold on her hair as his mouth moved down, and he bit the juncture where her shoulder and neck met.

Her nerves were on fire. This was the passionate Owen she remembered from their one night years ago. She hadn't even realized this version of him had been missing. While they'd been having great sex, this was off the charts. This was Owen open and raw. He didn't like anyone to see him this way.

She tugged at the button of his jeans and reached inside to stroke him. He grabbed her hand and pinned it behind her back. Okay then. He wants to run this show . She let him. He let go of her hair and her wrist to step away. The size of his pupils made his eyes nearly black.

"Ready to leave now?"

"Hell no," she answered. She yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. "I said you don't scare me."

"I should."

"Never." She slid her pants down and stepped out of them. "If this is what you need to feel better, I'm here."

He closed his eyes again. She moved to her knees, pulled his jeans down, taking his underwear with them. She licked him from base to tip, swirled her tongue around the head, and then took him fully into her mouth. His groan sounded like a cross between frustration and relief.

She became wet as he once again grabbed her head to guide the motion and pace he wanted. He fucked her mouth, and she moved one hand inside her panties to find her own release. When she moaned with his dick in her mouth, he suddenly reared back and picked her up off the floor.

He thrust his hand into her underwear and stroked her roughly, sending a tremor through her body. "Is this what you want?"

"God, yes." She braced her hands on his shoulders as he pressed two fingers into her.

Then he removed his hand, almost causing her to topple. "Take them off."

She pushed her underwear down while watching him. He licked his fingers. She undid her bra and tossed it. Her nipples were so hard, they hurt.

"Get on the bed."

She did as she was told, lying back, but propping herself up on her elbows. He kicked off the rest of his clothes. Then, without warning, he grabbed her ankles and slid her to the edge of the bed. He hit his knees and buried his face between her legs. The first stiff contact of his tongue against her clit had her body bowing over the bed.

An arm came down across her hips and pinned her to the mattress. The first orgasm ripped through her quickly. Her thighs trembled around his head as she tried to move. His grip was too tight, so she fisted the blanket and dug her heels into his back.

His tongue slowed, and he kissed her inner thigh. Evelyn swallowed and concentrated on slowing her breathing.

"How many times?" he asked gruffly.

"What?"

"How many times can you come?"

"I don't know."

"Tonight we're gonna find out."

"Owen." She struggled to push up on her elbows again. "I want to take care of you."

"You said you'd give me whatever I want." He bit her inner thigh. "I want this." He slid two fingers in her again and began a slow, torturous thrust.

His tongue danced all over her without touching her clit. Her whole body became riled up with need. She was on the brink of another orgasm when he pulled back. She forced her eyes open, but before she could attempt to move, he shoved her whole body farther up the bed. She heard the condom wrapper, and then he was over her and inside her.

He was licking and sucking her stiff nipples. She cried out in pleasure-pain. Her hands held his head as he moved from one nipple to the other while slowly thrusting, causing every nerve ending to feel his full length. New sensations assaulted her as she was close to coming but not quite there. She wrapped her legs around his hips in an effort to keep him close. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts. Anything to seek relief.

He took the hint and rose up. He spread her legs wide and began to piston into her. He moved so fast, her entire body jostled and jiggled. He felt so good, but the frustration built to a peak. She slid a hand down to where they were joined. She wanted to come while he was inside her. She managed to barely bump her clit before he grabbed both her wrists and stretched them out over her head.

With one hand he pinned her there. His other hand reached under her and lifted her ass just a bit.

"Please, Owen. I'm close."

He lowered his mouth to her ear, bit the lobe gently. "This is about me, remember?"

She wanted to cry. Her entire being was like a taut wire ready to snap. He just kept strumming and plucking her, though, keeping her orgasm out of reach.

He pulled completely out of her, and a new kind of frustration struck. She felt empty. He tapped her hip. "Roll over."

Her muscles were heavy and slow, but she pushed herself over, rising up on her knees to press her ass against him. He slid home again, refilling her. She moaned into the pillow and grabbed the bars of his iron headboard.

He picked up the pace again. Sounds of flesh slapping mixed with his guttural moans. Then he curled his whole body around hers. One hand pinched a nipple while the other pinched her clit.

She was gone. She screamed and cried out. Her muscles trembled as her pussy gripped him and pulled him deeper. The lights behind her closed lids blinded her. She was vaguely aware of him pumping away into her and his teeth sinking into the back of her shoulder. But she was no longer in control of anything. As if she ever had been.

At some point, he released her, and she collapsed. Her heart thundered and blood rushed so loud that she wasn't even sure if she was still conscious. She closed her eyes and just let her body relax.

…

Owen stumbled off the bed. What have I done? Fuck.

He ripped the condom from his sensitive flesh. Staring at Evelyn's sweat-slicked back, he struggled to control his breathing.

She rolled over, her eyes barely open. He scanned her body again, taking note of the marks he'd left. "Fuck. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she asked, her voice craggy like she had just woken up.

"Everything." He backed away.

"Come here." She waved at him and then patted the mattress beside her.

He didn't move.

"You're really going to make me move right now?" She huffed. She rolled halfway to the side and pushed herself to sitting. She reached out and took his hand. Tugging, she said again, "Come here."

"I've done enough."

"Says who?" she said with a wink.

She wasn't angry or scared? He sank to his knees in front of her at the edge of the bed. He kissed her softly. "You shouldn't have let me."

She stroked his head and laughed. "Why the hell not? That was the hottest sex I've ever had. You've been holding out on me."

"How could you say you enjoyed that?" He touched the bite marks on her shoulder, the hickey on her breast.

Cradling his jaw, she forced him to look at her. She stared him in the eye for a few heartbeats before speaking. "I will never be afraid of you. You didn't hurt me. Not really. These marks? They just show that you wanted—needed—me so badly you finally lost control. It's okay to let go with me."

"You deserve better."

"You always take care of me. There's nothing wrong with what happened in this bed, Owen. If I'd wanted you to stop, I would've told you, and you would have." She kissed him gently.

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe she not only wasn't bothered by the hard fucking that they'd done, but she'd enjoyed it.

"Even if you hadn't just rocked my world with the most amazing orgasms, it would've been fine. It's okay to take what you need sometimes."

He pulled her hand away from his face. "It wasn't okay with Stacy. She got mad at me for leaving marks. Said she preferred me being gentle."

"I'm not Stacy. I love when you're gentle and you treat me like your whole world depends on my happiness and pleasure. But you get to have that feeling, too. However you need to get there." Stroking his jaw again, she added, "I love you."

He studied her face. He knew when she was lying, but now she spoke the truth, and it was such a relief to him. She'd seen every part of him and she still wanted him, loved him. A lump settled in his throat, threatening to cut off his oxygen.

She poked his shoulder. "Now move your ass. I need a shower."

When she stood, he placed light, gentle kisses up her body and then pulled her into a hug. "I love you, too."

They walked to the bathroom together. "Are you ready to talk?"

"No."

"I won't freak out. I know your job is dangerous, but I trust you to do everything you can to make it back to me."

She made it easy to want to open up, to let her all the way in. "Did you watch the whole news report?"

"Yeah."

She started the shower. "You coming in?"

He shook his head. "As much as I'd like to, it's probably better if I don't. I'll wash up out here."

"Too bad. I really like it when you get all forceful and take me from behind." She let out a long sigh as she stepped under the water. "Even though I'm in here, I'm still good at listening. You haven't said anything about the fire. I saw the news. I know two kids died."

He took a deep breath and washed up at the sink. Staring down at the running water, he said, "The apartment fire was stubborn. Faulty wiring and too few smoke detectors. We had so many people to evacuate." He swallowed past the rock in his throat, thinking about the young mother who had been screaming from the curb. "By the time we found them, they weren't breathing. Covered in soot. They were so little."

He closed his eyes against the images of the tiny bodies. His heart crashed in his chest and climbed toward his throat, strangling him. Behind him, the water turned off. He left the room before Evelyn could see what a mess he was.

Unfortunately, she knew him well. She followed, still dripping from her shower. Back in the bedroom, he'd stepped into a pair of underwear and kept his back to her as he gulped air.

She touched his back again in gentle caresses. "What can I do?"

Nothing. No one could do anything. There was no bringing those kids back.

When he didn't turn around, she stepped in front of him. She stroked his jaw and then pulled him close in a tight hug. Burying his face in her neck was a comfort. Emotions rushed out and tears that he hated fell.

Evelyn said nothing. She held him, let him feel in a way he hadn't with another person in years. The anger of not being able to save those kids, the frustration of not being in control, clawed at him. He hated feeling weak.

Everything he kept inside poured from him and she took it, offering comfort in return. With Evelyn, he didn't have to be strong. She allowed him to be vulnerable, which was scarier than any fire he'd ever faced. He'd thought fucking his way through the adrenaline would be enough. He'd convinced himself it was.

Evelyn knew better. She knew him too well. Her pushy nature brought out every ugly, undesirable emotion he had.

But in her arms, he could handle them. Letting them out freed so much in him.

After a few minutes, he was able to breathe easily again, and he stepped away. "I hate that you have the ability to do that to me."

"What?" she whispered.

"Make me fall apart."

She shook her head. "Everyone needs to fall apart sometimes. It's important to have someone who can help put you back together."

They stared at each other, and an entire wordless conversation passed between them . I'm here for you. I know. I love you. You mean everything to me. No one could ever be for him what Evelyn was.

She smiled as if content with the silent dialogue and said aloud, "I have dinner in the kitchen and a movie picked out if you're up for it."

He returned her smile and surprised himself by saying, "Sure." He was ready for dinner and a movie. Hanging out with his best friend, the woman he loved.

"You go set up the food while I get dressed."

By the time she joined him in the living room, he had dinner on the table. She crawled onto the cushion next to him.

"You okay?"

"I'm gonna be sore tomorrow, but it's going to be the best kind of sore. Way better than overdoing it on the treadmill."

He laughed. "At least I'm better than a piece of exercise equipment."

"So much better," she said, snuggling close. "Every time I move tomorrow, I'm going to be thinking of you and how long I'll have to wait to get back to bed with you."

Owen smiled. "Any time you want me."

She handed him the remote. He put his arm around her. He was pretty sure he'd found the perfect woman.

…

Owen pulled into the parking lot of the building that Evelyn said was the TV studio, but it looked like any other brick warehouse in the South Loop. He texted to let her know he was there, and she said to come straight in. He hadn't seen her as happy as this in years, maybe ever, even with all the crazy extra hours she had been putting in. So when she'd talked about setting up and running through practice interviews, he had to ask if he could stop by. He wanted to see her in action.

She greeted him at the door and guided him through a maze of hallways to the set. People turned to stare at him as he followed her, but she didn't stop. When they reached the control room, she said, "This is where it all happens."

He looked through the glass and pointed. "Technically, it happens out there, doesn't it?"

"Smart-ass. Without us, nothing good would happen out there."

A woman at the control board snickered.

Evelyn put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Hailey, this is my boyfriend, Owen. He wanted to see where I work."

Hailey spun in her chair and stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"And this is Rashid," she said, pointing to the man sitting beside Hailey. "Alaina is usually in here, too, but she's sick."

Owen waved. "Nice to meet you."

The man nodded.

After scooping her hair into a ponytail, Evelyn slipped a headset on. Owen moved to the corner of the room and leaned against the wall.

She spoke into her headset. "Ready, Marilyn?"

On set, Marilyn gave her a thumbs-up.

Evelyn pressed a button and said, "Okay, Danny. Do your thing."

"Who's Danny?" he asked from his post at the wall.

Covering her mic, she answered, "My new director. I want to see how he runs things."

Owen crossed his arms and watched. It was weird to see this side of things. He'd visited Evelyn on the set of Trent Talks , but she'd put him in the audience and then back in her office when the show was done. She'd never brought him into her space like this before. It really was like watching magic, seeing all the moving parts you're completely unaware of when you watch TV.

After a few minutes, Evelyn said, "Danny, have camera two pan right."

Everyone followed directions, but Evelyn was shaking her head. With her hand over the mic again, she tapped Hailey's shoulder. "Was he this off his game yesterday?"

Hailey nodded.

"Fuck," Evelyn mumbled.

Owen smiled at hearing that she really did drop f-bombs at work. He tried to see what they saw, his attention flipping from the set through the glass to how it appeared on the monitors overhead. It looked like a talk show. A break on set sent people in motion again, moving furniture and refilling glasses of water. Evelyn stiffened and then smiled.

Into her headset, she said, "Yes." She slid a glance to him. "I'd like to know who said that." Then a chuckle. "I'll ask."

She turned to him. "People down on the set, specifically Marilyn, want you to come down and play on camera. She wants to interview you."

Owen shook his head. "I don't want to be on TV."

She stepped closer and lightly touched his hip. "Come on. It'll be fun. We're not actually airing this."

Before he had the chance to answer, she spoke into her headset again. "Send Gail up to take him to makeup and then to set."

"Makeup? If this isn't being aired, why the hell do I need makeup?"

"This is dress rehearsal. Everything has to be as it should." She took his arm and turned him back to the hallway. "Trust me," she whispered.

He did trust her, but this was all a little too suspicious. A moment later, Gail, a young woman who looked barely out of high school, smiled up at him and said, "This way."

Then there was a blur of activity around him. People put muck all over his face and before he knew it, he was being pushed into a chair beside Marilyn.

He reached across to shake her hand. "It's good to see you again."

"I'm so glad you're here. Maybe when we wrap, we can talk for a bit about some ideas I have for your youth center."

If pretending to be important enough to be on TV would get the center a top-notch fund-raiser, he'd sit there and be interviewed. The lights were sweltering, so he thought the makeup might melt off his face. Some guy neared, adjusted his mic, and then another asked, "Are we ready?"

Owen assumed he was Danny, since he stood near the cameras and began pointing.

"And we're back," Marilyn said. "Joining me now is Owen Hanson, one of Chicago's own firefighters."

He smiled and nodded.

"How long have you been a firefighter, Owen?"

"Almost twenty-two years."

"No other career for you before that?"

"Not unless you count slinging burgers as a teenager. All I ever wanted was to be a firefighter." If all she kept asking about was his job, this would be simple.

"But in addition to saving lives, you also spend quite a bit of your free time volunteering at a youth center, isn't that right?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes. The Chicago Avenue Youth Center has been an important part of my adult life."

"How did you get started volunteering there?"

"About a decade ago, Sandra, the center's director, put in a request for firefighters to come to the center to talk about fire safety. As soon as I walked in, I fell in love with the place. It's kind of like a beloved neighborhood hangout. It's rough around the edges and needs some TLC, but it gives kids a safe place to be."

"What kinds of activities are offered?"

"Sports—basketball, volleyball—and there's an art class and a homework help room. We also have a lounge where the kids can play video games or listen to music."

"What impact does a place like the center have on the children in the neighborhood?"

"It's more than just the kids. It's the whole neighborhood. Parents know that their kids have a safe place to go. The kids make friends and learn things. Community members love to come in and talk to the kids about different jobs. Some offer internships."

"It sounds like an amazing place."

"It is."

"If you had one wish for the Chicago Avenue Youth Center, what would it be?"

"That's easy—that it would have enough continuous funding to keep the doors open. We don't need fancy technology or new construction. We just need to be there for the families."

"That doesn't seem like you're asking for too much." Marilyn turned to face the cameras. "I challenge all of our viewers to take the money they would spend on one cup of coffee for one day this week and do something better with it. Donate to the Chicago Avenue Youth Center. One cup of coffee. It's that easy to make a difference."

"Cut!" Danny yelled.

Owen leaned over toward Marilyn. "Did you guys have this planned?"

She smirked.

"Can Evelyn hear me?"

Marilyn nodded.

He looked in the general direction of the control booth, even though he couldn't see her. "I'm one lucky son of a bitch. Even when you say you can't do something, you make it happen anyway."

"She's good like that," Marilyn said.

"Yeah, she is."

…

While at the studio a few days later, Evelyn heard mumbling rumors. Something was going on. She tried to eavesdrop because she didn't know any of her crew well enough to just ask. She was their boss, and if it was something they thought would ruffle her, they wouldn't say. After a full day of attempting to listen, she sat in her office with the TV on while she scrolled through headlines on her phone.

That's when she saw the first mention. It was small but noticeable. The nighttime show that Donald was producing had come into question. More specifically, the host and a few of the guests. The story was barely that—only a short paragraph questioning the background of the interviewer. Crap.

Nothing on TV yet, so that was good. Evelyn Googled everything from the name of the show and host to Donald's name to get more information. Nothing. Maybe it was one reporter getting a whiff of something but being off base. She considered calling Donald, but if he'd done something unethical, he wouldn't admit it to her. Best to just let it play out.

The set for Chi-talk Live was almost done. Marilyn had been prepping for the first episodes. After her "pretend" interview with Owen, which she hoped would be utilized soon, she ran interviews with members of the crew. Evelyn watched closely from the booth. They were becoming a team. In less than a week, they'd be live.

Marcus only planned to be in town for the first week of airing. Then he was going back to New York or L.A. to continue building his empire. She didn't know what Donald's plans were, but she was looking forward to them stepping back.

Her phone vibrated with a text. Marcus wanted to see her. Scooping up the notes she'd been taking, she went to his office and knocked.

"Come in."

She poked her head through the door. "Hey, Marcus. You wanted to see me?"

"Come in and close the door." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

The damn closed door still got to her. Years of working with Harry had set her on edge. She sat, gripping the folder in her lap.

Marcus sighed and pushed back from his desk. He studied her a minute, making her stomach churn. Silence was worse than yelling. She swallowed hard.

"Have you heard anything from Donald?"

She hadn't been expecting that. "No. Should I have?"

"Have you seen this?" He turned his computer screen to face her.

It was the same article she'd read. "A few minutes ago."

He waited as if she should have something else to add. "Do you know anything about this?"

"No," she said firmly. Whatever Donald had gotten himself into, she wanted no part of it.

"Good."

More silence.

"Do you think there is any truth to it?" Evelyn asked.

He folded his hands on his desk. "Unfortunately, I know there is. I know enough people in the industry that I got word yesterday. This"—he pointed at the screen—"is just the tip. It's going to get ugly. He didn't vet the host or double-check his background. It continued with guests. Nothing they presented is as they said."

Crap. Shit. Fuck. Her heart crashed against her ribs. A behind-the-scenes scandal before they even aired would ruin them. She stared at her clenched hands.

"I have one more question for you."

She looked up.

"If I send Donald packing, are you still on board?"

The buzzing in her head made her think she'd misheard. "Are you asking if I would still run Chi-talk if Donald isn't here?"

"Yes."

"Of course. I developed this idea. I don't want to see it die."

"It won't be easy. You'll have to distance yourself from him and the entire situation."

"Not a problem."

"I'll be informing him soon. When reporters come asking, you know nothing. Keep your head down and get this show running."

She breathed a sigh of relief. She stood to shake his hand. "Thank you."

"This show has too much potential. I'm not going to let poor judgment on Donald's part destroy that."

"One more thing," she said. "What about the crew? They're already talking. That's what tipped me off to look. I don't think they know anything, but they're hearing rumors. How do you want me to address it?"

"I trust your judgment in the matter."

"Thank you again."

Her heart still raced, but something about Marcus's faith in her made her proud. She didn't need Donald for this show to succeed. She went back to the studio where the crew was wrapping up.

She considered waiting until tomorrow to talk to them, but the news cycle moved fast. By tomorrow this story might be huge. She called everyone toward the set.

As they rounded the stage, she waved them closer. "I know you're all ready to go home, but there's something I need to address."

She waited a beat to make sure she had their attention. Making eye contact with each of them, she continued. "There has been some gossip flying around today." She made a face. "Yeah, I know. We're in TV. There are always rumors." That earned her a few chuckles. She paused until the laughter subsided. "Something is happening with one of our executive producers. As many of you know, Donald and I were once married, many years ago. However, I don't have the whole story about what is happening now. In fact, some of you probably have more information than I do.

"The story is still developing, and I don't know what's going to happen. What I do know is that it has nothing to do with us and Chi-talk Live . Marcus has assured me that we are on target. This is the only conversation we'll have on the subject. I expect all of you to conduct yourselves professionally. If someone asks you about the situation or about Donald, say nothing."

She inhaled deeply and gave it a moment to sink in. When the crowd began to get restless, she clapped her hands. "That's it. Go home. See you all tomorrow."

They broke and murmured to each other. Evelyn trusted that they would keep their mouths shut. She went back to her office and focused on planning the first episode. She thought about calling Donald to find out how bad it was going to get, but he wouldn't give her the entire truth, anyway.