Page 73 of Knotting the Firefighters
Fundamental uncertainty that undermines his natural authority.
I'd clocked it within minutes of observation—the way he pauses before issuing commands, the micro-expressions suggesting he's second-guessing himself, the defensive responses when his decisions are questioned.
Fear of failure.
Terror of inadequacy.
Imposter syndrome wrapped in Alpha bravado.
I understand it intimately, having battled similar demons throughout my career. Every promotion questioned because of my designation, every decision scrutinized more harshly than my male counterparts, every success attributed to luck rather than skill.
Until I stopped caring what anyone thought.
Until I owned my competence completely.
Until Fire Chief Murphy became identity rather than aspiration.
That transformation is what Aidric needs, what three months of forced proximity might facilitate if I'm strategic about dismantling his defenses.
Assuming we don't kill each other first.
The man makes me want to simultaneously throttle him and?—
Don't finish that thought.
Extremely unhelpful direction for my brain to wander.
A sigh escapes—longer, more exhausted than intended, carrying the weight of everything I'm not saying aloud.
Calder is at my side instantly, his hands hovering near my shoulders like he's prepared to catch me mid-faint, amber eyes scanning my face with intensity that borders on medical assessment.
"Whoa, hey—you okay? Do you need to sit? Should I call Silas?"
I blink at him, confusion momentarily overriding exhaustion.
"I'm fine. No fainting spells imminent, I promise."
Probably.
Hopefully.
The new medication should prevent that particular embarrassment from recurring.
"It's just quiet," I continue, gesturing vaguely at the space between us. "The silence made my sigh sound overly dramatic, I think."
Calder releases his own sigh—equally weighted, equally tired.
"Fuck. Sorry, Wendy." He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture familiar from months of watching him process stress. "Idon't mean to be a downer. This is just…it's a lot to process. Bad timing for everything."
Bad timing.
Understatement of the decade.
"Don't apologize," I tell him firmly, meaning every word. "This is a grand opportunity, Calder. Career advancement you absolutely deserve. You should take it without guilt or hesitation."
His head tilts, expression shifting into something I can't quite interpret.
"You want me to accept it?"
