Page 8 of Let it Crackle
“No, I just do it to pass time. Nothing serious.”
“You should take it seriously. I don’t read a lot but I was mesmerized.”
Her gaze flicks up, like she wants to believe me but doesn’t dare.
I nod toward the laptop she’s still clinging to like a shield. “You’ve got talent. That’s not me blowing smoke to make up for being a teenage idiot. That’s me seeing something you’re clearly too scared to admit to yourself.”
She swallows hard but doesn’t answer.
I glance at my watch and grimace. “I gotta head back to the station. Levi’s gonna give me hell if I’m late again, and I only signed up for set-up and closing duty on Tuesdays.”
She arches a brow, sarcasm creeping back into her voice. “Oh no, wouldn’t want you to lose your hero points.”
I grin. “You know, it’s weird. For someone who says she doesn’t want me around, you sure seem good at keeping me here.”
Her lips twitch. Just a little. I back up toward the door. “I’ll be back later.”
This time, she doesn’t roll her eyes. Doesn’t fight me. Just hugs that laptop tighter and says, “I can definitely wait for that.”
And I take it for what it is: permission to return.
A crack in the wall. The first one.
As I head back to the station, I can’t think straight. My palms are gripping the wheel, knuckles white, and my jaw’s so tight it might crack. That scene, that damn scene, is burned into my brain. Her words are still echoing in my head like a fucking prayer. His tattooed arms caging her in. His hands slidingbetween her thighs. Jesus. I can’t stop picturing her writing it, biting her lip, cheeks pink, maybe thinking about me. And that’s the part that’s got me half-wrecked. Because it wasn’t just good—it was hot as hell. Filthy and beautiful and raw. And if I’m even half right… if that character is even a little bit me? Then Maya Gibbons has been thinking about me in ways I’ve only dreamed of.
By the time I pull into the station, I’ve adjusted myself in the seat at least five times, and I’m still walking in with half a hard-on. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I push through the bay doors and head straight for the lockers, willing my brain to chill the hell out. But it won’t. Not when I can still hear her words playing on a loop in my head—his hands sliding between her thighs, touching her wet pussy. Jesus Christ. I bite down a groan as I pull my turnout gear from the hook. What the hell is wrong with me?
The guys are already halfway through cleaning equipment from the last call. Byron tosses me a rag, smirking. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Something like that,” I mutter, grabbing a hose coupling and pretending I’m not five seconds away from spacing out again.
But it’s no use. Everything reminds me of her. The heat in the air. The curl of steam from the coffee pot. The damn way the grip of the fire hose feels in my hand.Get it together, Cole.
“You gonna clean that coupling or make love to it?” Levi’s voice cuts through the fog. I blink, realizing I’ve just been standing there staring at it for who knows how long.
“Right,” I say, clearing my throat, scrubbing at the metal like it personally offended me.
“You good?” Levi narrows his eyes. “You’ve been out of it all morning.”
“Fine,” I lie. “Just didn’t sleep much.”
Levi snorts. “Yeah, well, snap out of it, whatever the hell it is. We’ve got a scene. Car flipped near the lake. I need you with your full senses.”
I pull on my gear and follow him to the truck, the weight of my helmet grounding me—but not enough. Because even as we speed toward the call, sirens blaring, all I can think about is Maya. Her voice. Her lips. The fire she wrote with. And the way her face looked when she caught me, like she expected me to laugh.
But I didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Because for the first time in a long time, I saw something real. Something that might just be meant for me.
And damn it if that didn’t mess me up in the best way.
Chapter 5
Maya
