Chapter 13

13

CASS

C ass rubbed her temples, the tension in her head threatening to bloom into a full-blown migraine. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, reminding her of all the time she’d spent hunched over reports, budgets, and endless proposals for alternative funding. She was running on fumes, her meals replaced by cups of stale coffee and whatever snacks the crew left lying around the station. Sleep was an afterthought, snatched in fleeting moments between strategy sessions and restless nights filled with too many regrets. Her body protested every movement, muscles sore from the constant grind, but she couldn’t stop—not when her team was counting on her.

Her desk was a mess: stacks of papers with scribbled notes, emails she’d printed out in desperation, and crumpled drafts of pleas she’d considered sending to the city council. Cass was determined to find a solution, anything to avoid the devastating cuts Evelyn had warned about. Yet the harder she fought, the more it felt like she was swimming against a relentless current. She couldn’t shake the hollowness that had settled in her chest, a gnawing grief that had nothing to do with the department and everything to do with Evelyn. It was as if the fight for her team and the fight for her heart had merged into one unbearable battle. She was staring blankly at the paperwork in front of her. The words blurred together, her mind too weighed down by the steady ache in her chest. She’d barely slept the past few nights, her dreams haunted by Evelyn’s face, her sharp words from their last conversation echoing like a cruel refrain. Evelyn was the last person she expected—or wanted—to see, and yet she was the only one Cass couldn’t stop thinking about.

A knock at the door broke through her haze.

“Yeah?” she called, not bothering to look up.

The door opened, and she froze when Evelyn’s voice followed. “Cass, can we talk?”

Cass’s head snapped up, her heart doing an uncomfortable lurch in her chest. Evelyn stood there, a stack of papers in her hand, her expression guarded but earnest. She wore one of her crisp blazers, her usual armor of professionalism, but her eyes gave her away. There was something vulnerable in them, a hesitation Cass wasn’t used to seeing.

“What are you doing here?” Cass asked, her voice sharper than she intended. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I thought we said everything we needed to say.”

Evelyn stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “I know. But I needed to tell you something—something I should’ve told you sooner.”

Cass raised an eyebrow, waiting. Her defenses were already up, her walls built high. But Evelyn didn’t flinch under her scrutiny. Instead, she crossed the room, setting the papers down on Cass’s desk.

“I fought back,” Evelyn said quietly. “Against the cuts. I refused to make the changes they wanted.”

Cass blinked, her arms uncrossing slightly. “What?”

Evelyn straightened her shoulders, her voice steady. “The city council wanted me to gut the department, to slash resources in ways that would have left you and your team vulnerable. I said no. I found an alternative. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough to keep you operational—more than operational.”

Cass stared at her, the words not fully registering at first. “You…what?”

“I found private donors willing to invest in the department,” Evelyn explained. “And I convinced the council to redirect funds from other areas. It took some convincing, but I wouldn’t leave until they agreed. The cuts are off the table, Cass.”

The weight of those words sank in, but Cass didn’t feel the immediate relief she thought she would. Instead, she felt an overwhelming mixture of emotions—shock, gratitude, confusion, and a lingering anger she didn’t know how to shake.

“Why?” she asked, her voice low. “Why would you do that?”

Evelyn’s gaze faltered for the first time. She hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to say what was truly on her mind. “Because I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. Because you were right, Cass. About everything. And because… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Cass’s breath caught in her throat. Evelyn looked so different now, her usual cool composure cracking at the edges. Her vulnerability was like a spotlight, illuminating every unspoken truth between them.

“You didn’t lose me,” Cass said softly, though her voice was thick with emotion. “I’m still here. But you, Evelyn, you broke my trust. I don’t know if I can forget that.”

Evelyn nodded, her expression pained. “I know. I messed up, Cass. I made decisions out of fear—fear of failing, fear of…feeling anything I couldn’t control. But I’ve realized something.” She took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly. “Being around you, seeing how much you care about your team, your work—it’s changed me. I thought I could keep everything in neat little boxes, but I can’t. Not with you.”

Cass looked away, her throat tight. She wanted to believe Evelyn, but her anger and hurt hadn’t fully healed. “This isn’t just about us, Evelyn. This is about my team. My family. If you’d gone through with those cuts…”

“But I didn’t,” Evelyn interrupted gently. “I fought for them, Cass. I fought for you. And I’ll keep fighting, if you’ll let me.”

Cass’s heart ached at the sincerity in Evelyn’s voice. She wanted to stay angry, to hold on to the betrayal. But as she looked at Evelyn—truly looked at her—she saw the woman who had stood her ground against the council, who had taken a risk to protect something she didn’t fully understand but knew was important. She saw the woman she couldn’t seem to stay away from, no matter how hard she tried.

“You really mean that?” Cass asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Evelyn stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “Yes. I can’t promise I won’t make mistakes, Cass. But I promise I’ll always try to do what’s right. For you. For the department.”

The vulnerability in her voice shattered something inside Cass. She stood, closing the distance between them, her hands resting on her hips as she searched Evelyn’s face for any sign of insincerity. She found none.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” Cass said, her voice breaking into a soft laugh, though tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’ve never met anyone who could make me this angry and this…”

“This what?” Evelyn asked, her voice barely audible.

Cass hesitated, then let out a shaky breath. “This alive. Damn it, Evelyn, I hate how much I care about you.”

Evelyn’s lips quirked into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I hate it too,” she admitted. “But I think that’s what makes it real.”

Cass shook her head, laughing softly despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re infuriating,” Evelyn countered, though her tone was light, almost teasing. “But maybe that’s why this works.”

They stood there for a moment, the tension between them replaced by something softer, something fragile but hopeful. Cass finally reached out, her hand brushing against Evelyn’s. Evelyn took it, her grip firm but gentle, and for the first time in weeks, Cass felt a sense of peace.

“Okay,” Cass said finally. “Let’s see where this goes. But if you pull another stunt like that, I’m kicking your ass.”

Evelyn laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair enough.”

It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

Cass stared at Evelyn, her pulse roaring in her ears. The warmth of Evelyn’s hand in hers was grounding, but it did little to stop the storm of emotions churning inside her. Anger, hurt, hope, and something even deeper tangled together, leaving her breathless. She hadn’t realized how much she had been holding on to, how tightly the tension between them had gripped her heart, until now. Until Evelyn was standing here, vulnerable and open in a way that felt impossible just weeks ago.

Cass didn’t know who moved first. One moment, they were standing inches apart, the air between them thick with unsaid words and raw emotions; the next, Evelyn was closer, her gaze flickering to Cass’s lips, her breath mingling with Cass’s. It was a silent question, and Cass knew her answer before she even realized she was leaning in.

Their lips met in a kiss that was nothing like the ones before. Those had been heated, frantic, and borne of frustration and pent-up desire. But this…this was slow, deliberate, and achingly tender. Cass felt the weight of everything they had been through in that moment, all the arguments, the betrayals, the undeniable pull that had brought them together despite everything working to keep them apart.

Evelyn’s hand slid up to Cass’s cheek, her touch soft and careful, as if she were afraid to break the fragile peace between them. Cass tilted her head, deepening the kiss, her own hands moving to Evelyn’s waist. She pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of her body, the steady thrum of her heartbeat against her own.

A sigh escaped Cass, unbidden, as relief flooded through her. For weeks, she had been carrying so much—resentment, confusion, guilt, longing. It had weighed her down, creeping into every corner of her life, until she felt like she might drown under it all. But here, with Evelyn in her arms, the pressure lifted, replaced by something softer, something lighter. It wasn’t perfect, and the hurt wasn’t entirely gone, but for the first time in what felt like forever, Cass could breathe.

Evelyn broke the kiss first, her forehead resting against Cass’s, her eyes closed. Her breathing was uneven, her lips slightly parted, and Cass felt her chest tighten at the sight. Evelyn looked different now, her usual cool composure stripped away, leaving her vulnerable and real in a way Cass had never seen before.

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn murmured, her voice shaky but sincere. “For everything. For hurting you.”

Cass’s thumb brushed against Evelyn’s cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even noticed. “You don’t have to keep apologizing,” she said softly, her own voice rough with emotion. “You fixed it, Evelyn. You stood up for us, for what’s right. That’s what matters.”

Evelyn’s eyes opened, meeting Cass’s, and Cass saw something there she hadn’t expected—hope. It was tentative, fragile, but it was enough to make Cass’s heart ache. She leaned in again, pressing another kiss to Evelyn’s lips, this one softer, gentler, a promise rather than a demand.

The kiss deepened slowly, naturally, their movements unhurried as if they had all the time in the world. Cass let herself get lost in the moment, in the feel of Evelyn’s lips moving against hers, the warmth of her body pressed close, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the lingering smell of coffee in the office. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a release, a way to let go of everything that had been weighing them down and start fresh.

As they broke apart again, Cass rested her forehead against Evelyn’s, her hands still on her hips. She let out a shaky laugh, her breath fanning across Evelyn’s skin. “This feels…different,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Evelyn nodded, her fingers curling gently around the front of Cass’s shirt. “Because it is,” she said. “It’s not just heat or tension or any of that. It’s more.”

Cass swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She had spent so long trying to fight what she felt for Evelyn, convincing herself it was just physical attraction or misplaced frustration. But standing here now, holding Evelyn, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. It wasn’t just about the way Evelyn challenged her or the spark between them. It was about the way Evelyn had stepped up, had fought for what mattered, even when it wasn’t easy. It was about the way Evelyn had seen her, really seen her, and hadn’t looked away.

“I’m scared,” Cass admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I’m scared this won’t work. That we’ll screw it up. That I’ll screw it up.”

Evelyn’s hand came up to cup Cass’s face, her thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. “Me too,” she said quietly. “But I think…I think it’s worth the risk.”

Cass stared at her for a long moment, letting those words sink in. Worth the risk. She thought about all the things she had already risked for this, for them. Her pride, her anger, her fear. And now, standing here with Evelyn, she realized she would do it all again if it meant holding on to this, on to her.

Without thinking, Cass pulled Evelyn into another kiss, this one filled with all the emotion she couldn’t put into words. It was a kiss of gratitude, of forgiveness, of hope. Evelyn responded in kind, her arms wrapping around Cass’s neck, holding on like she never wanted to let go.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Cass rested her hands on Evelyn’s shoulders, her forehead pressed against hers. She let out a soft, breathless laugh, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Guess we’re really doing this, huh?” she said, her voice light but filled with meaning.

Evelyn smiled back, her eyes shining with something that looked an awful lot like happiness. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess we are.”

For the first time in weeks, Cass felt something other than anger or frustration or despair. She felt hope. It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t be easy, but as she held Evelyn close, she knew one thing for certain—they were worth fighting for.

Cass leaned back against the edge of her desk, crossing her arms as she looked at Evelyn. The tension between them had finally broken, replaced by a fragile calm. Evelyn stood nearby, smoothing down her shirt with a nervous energy that was out of place for her usually composed demeanor. For a moment, they just looked at each other, as if testing the waters of this new, uncharted territory they’d stepped into.

“So,” Cass began, breaking the silence. She let the word hang in the air, unsure of how to follow it up. What was the protocol for addressing…whatever this was?

Evelyn quirked an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “So,” she echoed, her voice soft but tinged with amusement. “Are we going to talk about what happens now or just keep staring at each other like this?”

Cass huffed a laugh, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I guess we should, you know, figure out how to not completely screw this up.”

Evelyn’s smile widened slightly, and she stepped closer, leaning one hip against the desk beside Cass. “I think step one is acknowledging we’ve already screwed it up a little,” she said, her tone light but honest. “Not exactly a textbook example of professionalism.”

Cass tilted her head, feigning deep thought. “You mean arguing in front of half the department, nearly tackling each other in the middle of budget meetings, and, well, the other stuff wasn’t professional?” She smirked when Evelyn rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious, Cass,” Evelyn said, though her smile remained. “This is…complicated. We have to be careful.”

“I know,” Cass admitted, her smirk fading into something softer. She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her desk. “It’s not like I don’t think about it. Every time I walk into this firehouse, I’m reminded that these people—my team—they depend on me. On us. I can’t let them down.”

Evelyn’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on Cass’s arm. “And you won’t,” she said firmly. “You’ve been fighting for them since the day we met. Honestly, you’ve reminded me why I wanted this job in the first place. It’s not just numbers or policies. It’s people.”

Cass looked up, her eyes meeting Evelyn’s. There was no hesitation there, no hidden agenda, just sincerity. She let out a slow breath. “Okay,” she said. “So, what’s step two? After admitting we’re already in over our heads.”

Evelyn tilted her head, pretending to think. “Step two is boundaries,” she said. “We need to figure out how to separate work and…whatever this is.”

Cass raised an eyebrow. “Boundaries, huh? Does that mean no more yelling at each other in meetings?”

“Preferably,” Evelyn said dryly. “Though I won’t promise I won’t still push your buttons from time to time.”

Cass chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re stubborn,” Evelyn countered, her smile teasing. “Guess we’ll call it even.”

They shared a laugh, the kind that came easily now that the tension between them had eased. It felt strange but good, like stepping into a room filled with sunlight after being in the dark for too long. Cass reached out, taking Evelyn’s hand in hers.

“Look,” Cass said, her voice softening. “I know this isn’t going to be easy. We’re both used to doing things our way, and this is new for both of us. But I’m willing to try if you are.”

Evelyn squeezed her hand, her gaze steady. “I am. I know it won’t be perfect, but I’m not willing to walk away from this. From you.”

Cass felt a warmth spread through her chest at Evelyn’s words, a mix of relief and something deeper. “Alright,” she said, her lips curving into a small smile. “But just so you know, if you try to sneak any more budget cuts past me, we’re going to have a problem.”

Evelyn laughed, a sound that was light and genuine. “Noted. I’ll make sure to give you a full breakdown in advance.”

“You’d better,” Cass teased, though her tone was affectionate. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a mock-serious whisper. “And no more kissing me in the middle of arguments.”

Evelyn arched an eyebrow, her smile turning sly. “I don’t recall you complaining at the time.”

Cass groaned, shaking her head. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“And you like it,” Evelyn replied, her tone playful but her eyes warm.

For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of their conversation balanced by the lightness of their banter. Cass felt a sense of ease she hadn’t in weeks, a sense that maybe, just maybe, they could figure this out together. She squeezed Evelyn’s hand once more before letting go.

“Okay,” Cass said, straightening. “Let’s give this a shot. Professionally and personally. But if it gets too messy, we talk it out. Deal?”

“Deal,” Evelyn said, her smile soft but sure. She extended her hand, her expression serious but tinged with humor. “To clear communication and fewer arguments?”

Cass laughed, shaking Evelyn’s hand. “To trying not to kill each other, at least.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the room with a sense of possibility. Cass knew they had a long road ahead, but for the first time, she felt like they were on the same page. And that, she thought, was a damn good start.