Chapter 9

9

CASS

C ass woke slowly, her senses pulling her from sleep in fragments. The muted morning light seeped through the cracks in her blinds, brushing against her closed eyelids. Her bed felt warmer than usual, and there was the faintest scent of lavender in the air. For a few blissful moments, she lingered in that twilight between dreams and reality, her body heavy with contentment. Then she felt the soft weight of an arm draped over her waist, and everything came rushing back.

Her eyes snapped open, and she turned her head slightly. There, lying peacefully beside her on the narrow pullout bed, was Evelyn. Her blonde hair was tousled against the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. The vulnerability of that moment caught Cass off guard. Evelyn, who was always so composed and unreadable, looked entirely different now—soft, almost fragile. Cass’s chest tightened, a swirl of emotions she couldn’t quite name making her stomach churn.

For a moment, she simply lay there, listening to the quiet rhythm of Evelyn’s breathing. The memory of the previous night played in her mind, vivid and inescapable. The way their tension had finally snapped, giving way to something raw and undeniable. The heat of their connection, the intensity of every touch—it was like nothing Cass had ever experienced before.

But now, in the cold light of morning, reality pressed down on her like a weight. They were still on opposite sides of a professional battlefield, still fighting for entirely different visions of the department’s future. Nothing about their situation had changed, except now they’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Cass shifted slightly, careful not to wake Evelyn as she slipped out of bed. She ran a hand through her hair, frustration prickling at her nerves. What the hell was she doing? What were they doing?

She grabbed her clothes from where they’d been hastily discarded and dressed quietly, her movements stiff with unease. Glancing back at the bed, she saw Evelyn stir, her eyes fluttering open. For a brief moment, their gazes met, and Cass saw a flicker of something in Evelyn’s expression—uncertainty, perhaps, or maybe regret. But then Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint smile, and the tension between them seemed to shift again, like a pendulum swinging back and forth.

“Good morning,” Evelyn said softly, her voice husky from sleep.

“Morning,” Cass replied, her tone more gruff than she intended. She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of her neck. “You, uh…sleep okay?”

Evelyn chuckled lightly, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “Considering this bed is barely big enough for one person? Surprisingly well.”

Cass smirked despite herself but quickly sobered. “Look, Evelyn…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words. “About last night, I don’t know what to say.”

Evelyn tilted her head, her expression unreadable again. “You don’t have to say anything, Cass. It happened. We can’t change that.”

Cass nodded, but the knot in her chest only tightened. “Yeah, but we can’t just…ignore it either. This complicates everything.”

“Complicated seems to be our default setting,” Evelyn replied, a hint of wry humor in her tone. But there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes, a vulnerability that mirrored Cass’s own.

Before Cass could respond, her phone buzzed on the desk across the room. She grabbed it, grateful for the distraction, and saw Becky Thompson’s name on the screen.

“I need to take this,” she said, glancing at Evelyn.

Evelyn nodded, her expression guarded. “Of course.”

Cass stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting her skin like a wake-up call. She answered the call, and Becky’s warm, familiar voice greeted her from across the world.

“Morning, kid. Or I guess it’s evening there, huh?”

Cass exhaled, the sound carrying all the tension she’d been holding. “Hey, Chief. Yeah, it’s morning. How’s Italy?”

“Beautiful as always,” Becky said with a chuckle. “But I’m guessing you didn’t answer just to hear about my pasta and wine adventures. What’s on your mind?”

Cass hesitated, her fingers tapping against the phone. “It’s…complicated.”

“Everything worth doing usually is. Spill it.”

Cass sighed, leaning against the wall. “It’s Evelyn. The consultant.”

“The one trying to gut your budget?” Becky’s tone sharpened.

“Yeah. But it’s not just that anymore.” She paused, the words heavy in her throat. “We’ve…gotten close. Too close.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Becky spoke, her voice gentler now. “How close are we talking?”

“Last night kind of close.”

Becky let out a low whistle. “Well, damn. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I,” Cass admitted. “And now, I don’t know what to do. It’s like every time we’re in the same room, I can’t think straight. But she’s still pushing for changes that could hurt my team, Becky. I can’t let that happen.”

Becky was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her tone was thoughtful. “Cass, you’re one of the most grounded people I know. If this is throwing you off that much, it’s worth paying attention to. But you’re right—you can’t let it interfere with your job. You’ve got a responsibility to your people.”

“I know,” Cass said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what scares me. What if I can’t keep it separate?”

“Then you have to figure out if this thing with Evelyn is worth the risk,” Becky said simply. “And if it is, you both need to be honest about it. No more dancing around the truth.”

Cass nodded, even though Becky couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Becky. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, kid. Just remember, you’ve got this. No matter what happens.”

Cass ended the call and stood there for a moment, the weight of Becky’s words settling over her. She didn’t have all the answers, but at least now she had a little more clarity.

When she walked back into the office, Evelyn was dressed and smoothing her hair, her professional mask firmly back in place.

“We should get going,” Evelyn said, her tone brisk. “Busy day ahead.”

Cass nodded, but as their eyes met, she saw the flicker of something unspoken lingering between them.

Cass stood in the doorway, her hand still on the knob, caught in the undertow of emotions she couldn’t fully untangle. Evelyn’s calm, professional demeanor had returned, and Cass felt a pang of frustration at how quickly she seemed to slide back into her armor. It wasn’t fair, of course. Wasn’t Evelyn entitled to protect herself, especially after the mess they’d just created? But that logical voice in Cass’s head was drowned out by the roar of her own uncertainty.

She cleared her throat, stepping further into the room. “Evelyn,” she began, her voice low, hesitant. “About what we said last night… What we did…”

Evelyn glanced up from where she was adjusting her watch, her expression carefully neutral. “I know. It was a mistake.”

The words landed like a punch to Cass’s gut, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected Evelyn to say, but hearing it framed so simply, so definitively stung more than she thought it would.

“A mistake?” Cass repeated, her tone sharper than she intended.

Evelyn’s eyes flickered, betraying a crack in her composure. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—” She exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I don’t know how to navigate this, Cass. I’m supposed to be impartial and focused on the job. Last night, it crossed every line.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Cass shot back, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “You think I haven’t been agonizing over the same damn thing? I’ve spent weeks fighting for this department, for my team, and now I’m supposed to figure out how to fight this”—she gestured vaguely between them—“whatever this is, without losing everything else in the process?”

Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, her jaw tightening. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick and suffocating.

Cass scrubbed a hand over her face, turning away. She stared at the pullout bed, now stripped of the intimacy it had held mere hours ago, and felt an overwhelming sense of loss.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t real,” Evelyn said quietly, breaking the silence.

Cass froze, her back still to Evelyn. The words hung in the air, fragile and tentative, like they might shatter if handled too carelessly.

“I’m saying I don’t know how to make it work,” Evelyn continued. Her voice was softer now, more vulnerable. “Not when we’re still standing on opposite sides of this fight. I don’t want to hurt you, Cass. But every decision I make, it feels like I’m doing just that.”

Cass turned slowly, meeting Evelyn’s gaze. For the first time, she saw something raw and unguarded there—regret, longing, fear.

“You’re not the only one struggling with this,” Cass said finally, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “But maybe…” She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. “Maybe the problem isn’t just us. Maybe it’s everything around us. The expectations, the lines we’re supposed to stay inside. Maybe we’re letting all of that decide for us instead of figuring out what we really want.”

Evelyn’s expression softened, and for a moment, Cass thought she might agree. But then she shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I can’t make promises I don’t know if I can keep.”

Cass felt her heart sink, but she nodded. “Neither can I.”

They stood there, caught in the limbo between what they wanted and what they knew they could have. And as much as it hurt, Cass knew this was where they had to leave it for now.

The tension in the meeting room was palpable as Cass sat at the long table with the other fire captains, her jaw tight and her hands clenched into fists beneath the surface. Evelyn stood at the head of the room, a stack of neatly organized documents in front of her and her usual air of professional detachment firmly in place. She looked calm, composed, and unshakable—the complete opposite of how Cass felt.

“This proposed restructuring,” Evelyn began, her voice cutting through the room like a scalpel, “isn’t about undermining your efforts or diminishing the importance of your work. It’s about sustainability. The department is operating with outdated equipment and practices that, frankly, are no longer financially viable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be facing far more severe consequences in the future.”

The other captains exchanged uneasy glances, but Cass couldn’t hold back. “And if we make these cuts, what happens to response times? What happens when we’re understaffed during a major incident because we’re trying to save a few dollars?”

Evelyn didn’t flinch, her gaze steady as she turned to Cass. “The proposed changes aren’t about cutting corners. They’re about optimizing resources. If we allocate funding more strategically, we can ensure?—”

“Strategically?” Cass cut in, her voice rising. “You’re talking about lives, Evelyn. You can’t optimize a rescue. You can’t calculate the worth of a life in dollars and cents.”

The room grew quieter, the tension between them drawing everyone’s attention. Evelyn’s jaw tightened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of emotion in her eyes—anger, frustration, or something else Cass couldn’t quite place.

“Captain Harris,” Evelyn said evenly, her tone sharper now, “I understand your passion, but passion alone doesn’t keep a department running. If we don’t adapt to the realities of our budget, there won’t be a department to protect anymore.”

Cass pushed back her chair abruptly, standing. “Then maybe the problem isn’t the department. Maybe it’s the people who think they know better than the ones who actually do the work.”

The other captains shifted uncomfortably, some murmuring in agreement, others remaining silent. Cass didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let Evelyn bulldoze over her team, her family, without a fight.

But even as the argument escalated, something felt different. The usual fire that surged through Cass when she clashed with Evelyn wasn’t there. Instead, every sharp word, every pointed glare felt like a blow to her chest.

Evelyn’s lips parted, ready with another retort, but her gaze flickered over Cass’s face, and for a split second, something softened. “I’m not your enemy, Cass,” she said, her voice quieter now, though still firm. “I’m trying to find a way to make this work—for everyone.”

Cass’s anger faltered, replaced by a hollow ache she couldn’t ignore. She sank back into her chair, the fight draining out of her. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. Evelyn glanced around, seeming to sense the shift in the atmosphere. She straightened, her professional mask slipping back into place like armor.

“We’ll reconvene in a week,” Evelyn said briskly, gathering her papers. “Take the time to review the proposals and come prepared with constructive feedback.”

One by one, the other captains filed out of the room, some offering Cass sympathetic pats on the shoulder, others avoiding her gaze entirely. Evelyn lingered by the door, her expression unreadable.

Cass didn’t look at her. She couldn’t.

When the room was empty except for the two of them, Evelyn hesitated. “Cass?—”

“Don’t,” Cass said, cutting her off. Her voice was flat, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. “Just…don’t.”

Evelyn didn’t respond. After a long moment, the soft click of the door signaled her departure.

Cass leaned back in her chair, staring at the empty room. She’d won plenty of arguments in her life, but this didn’t feel like winning. It felt like losing something she wasn’t sure she even had to begin with.

Her hands trembled as she rubbed her face, exhaustion pulling at her from every angle. She thought back to Becky’s advice, to the firehouse, to Evelyn’s lips against hers the night before. Every thought tangled together, creating a storm she couldn’t control.

For the first time in her career, Cass felt like she was fighting a battle she couldn’t win—not because she wasn’t strong enough, but because she wasn’t sure which side she was supposed to be on anymore.

Cass sat slumped in her chair, the long table of the conference room stretching out in front of her like a chasm. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glare on the scattered papers and empty coffee cups left behind after the meeting. She stared at the spreadsheet in front of her, the columns and rows blurring into meaningless lines of text and numbers. Evelyn’s voice still echoed in her head, calm and unyielding as she’d made her case for reallocating funds to other city initiatives.

The room was silent now, but Cass could still feel the tension hanging in the air, like smoke after a fire. Her chest ached, not from anger, but from something heavier, something she couldn’t shake no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.

It wasn’t personal; she knew that. Evelyn wasn’t doing this to hurt her, wasn’t trying to dismantle the fire department out of spite or malice. If anything, Evelyn had gone out of her way to soften the blow of every cut, to find compromises that kept the department afloat. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Cass leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “Damn it,” she muttered to herself.

Their latest argument had been over something seemingly small—a line item in the budget for overtime pay. Cass had fought tooth and nail to protect it, arguing that the department relied on those funds to cover emergencies and to keep the team running when they were stretched thin. Evelyn had countered with her usual pragmatism, pointing out that the city simply didn’t have the money to spare.

And so they’d gone back and forth, their voices rising, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. But this time, when the argument had ended and the others had filed out of the room, Cass hadn’t felt the usual rush of righteous indignation, the fire that fueled her to fight harder for her team.

Instead, she’d felt…empty.

Her gaze drifted to the now empty chair where Evelyn had been sitting. Cass could still picture her there, her posture straight, her hands clasped in front of her, her expression cool and composed. She’d barely raised her voice, but her words had cut through the room like a knife, precise and unrelenting.

Cass exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. It wasn’t just the argument that was getting to her. It was the fact that every clash with Evelyn seemed to take a piece of her, leaving her more drained than the last.

Because it wasn’t just a fight about money or resources. It was Evelyn.

The same woman who had held her in her arms not long ago, who had kissed her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. The same woman whose laughter had filled Cass’s office late at night, whose touch had made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

And now they were here, on opposite sides of the table, their words sharp and cutting. Every argument felt like a betrayal, not because of what was being said, but because of who was saying it.

Cass dropped her head into her hands, her elbows braced on the table. “Why does this have to be so damn hard?” she whispered to no one.

She wanted to hate Evelyn in moments like this. It would be easier if she could. If she could convince herself that Evelyn was just another bureaucrat, another obstacle to overcome. But she couldn’t. Because she knew Evelyn. She knew the woman who stayed up late poring over spreadsheets, trying to find solutions that worked for everyone. She knew the woman who carried the weight of the city on her shoulders, who took on the role of villain because someone had to.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt less.

Cass stared at the table, her jaw tightening. She thought about her team—about Hallie, about Sara, about all the firefighters who relied on her to stand up for them, to fight for what they needed. She thought about Chief Thompson, who had trusted her to protect the department, to carry on the legacy she’d built.

And then she thought about Evelyn, about the way she’d looked at her during the argument. There had been something in her eyes, a flicker of something Cass couldn’t quite recognize. Regret, maybe? Sadness? Or maybe Cass was just imagining it, projecting her own emotions onto someone who had never shown anything but resolve.

“Damn it, Evelyn,” Cass muttered again, her voice thick with frustration.

She pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. She didn’t know what to do with herself, didn’t know how to reconcile the war inside her. How could she keep fighting when every battle left her feeling like she was losing no matter the outcome?

Her fists clenched at her sides as she paced the room. She wasn’t angry at Evelyn, not really. She was angry at the situation, at the impossible choices they both had to make. She was angry at herself for letting her feelings get tangled up in the job, for caring too much about someone who was supposed to be her enemy.

But most of all, she was angry because she didn’t know how to fix it.

Cass stopped at the window, looking out at the city below. The streets were quiet, the glow of the streetlights casting long shadows. Somewhere out there, Evelyn was probably sitting at her desk, poring over more spreadsheets, trying to find another way to make the numbers work.

And Cass? She was here, alone in a conference room, wondering how they’d gotten to this point.

For the first time in her career, she didn’t feel like a leader, didn’t feel like she had the answers. She felt…lost.

As she stared out at the city, her shoulders slumped, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. She couldn’t keep doing this—not like this. Something had to give.

But she didn’t know what.