Love & Stilettos by Evelyn Lindell

Author:Evelyn Lindell [Lindell, Evelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cayelle Publishing LLC
Published: 2022-08-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19: A Burning House

Luckily, Nate only needed me to work until seven tonight. Between Mitch’s denial this morning at the firehouse, Jeff’s self-proclaimed innocence, and discovering Nate’s complicated crush on our boss, my mind and body switched to autopilot two hours ago.

I’m exhausted.

The last thing I want to do is deal with the Thursday night pre-drinking crowd. They’re fun, but they’re always loud, chatty, and have the attention span of a three-year-old. I’m not sure I have the energy to match their enthusiastic spirits tonight and to act interested in who might be at what bar and when.

Since I’m sporting a bun and I don’t have to worry about the nimble fingers of the wind creating unforgiving knots in my hair, I roll the window down and encourage the breeze to kiss my cheeks and calm my soul. I thought working today would help me pass the time but as soon as Nate disappeared into the backroom to wrestle with his emotions and the inventory, I didn’t have anyone to talk to for the rest of my shift. Even when Nate changed the mannequin’s clothes in the front window, he didn’t speak. Four hours is a long time when there’s only five customers and your own breathing to fill it.

Luckily Granny’s house is in sight, which means I’m seconds away from cozy pajamas and mindless television.

Mitch?

Mitch sits on Granny’s front step with his chin rested on his clasped hands. His ratty, faded jeans and Louisville Fire Department hoodie let me know he came in a hurry. How long has he been sitting there? His shoulders slump forward, hiding any trace of his typical confidence.

“Hey, can we talk a sec?” he asks, after I park and close the driver’s side door behind me.

His eyes plead with mine to say yes, and I hear the sadness in his tone. But I’m not ready to talk to him. I can barely form thoughts right now, let alone sentences. And besides, I don’t think there’s anything he can say to make me forgive him or to help me understand. Not right now.

Once my silence greets Mitch’s question for longer than a breath, he stands up and walks toward me, stopping within a few feet. He smells like smoke, letting me know he went on at least one fire run since we spoke this morning. The thought of Mitch in harm’s way, dodging flames and inhaling grey clouds of poison, weakens my resolve. Regardless of how betrayed and hurt I feel by Mitch, I’d never want anything to happen to him. If he died, I’d never recover. Unlike Xavier’s death, there would be no bouncing back or redirecting if Mitch died. There would simply be surviving. We have too much history for me to feel or act any differently.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working until tomorrow morning?”

Mitch works 24-hour shifts. I know for a fact he’s supposed to be at work right now. That’s why I confronted him this morning. I knew where he’d

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