Page 28 of Ashes of Us
"No. Though there are people who think I should." He let that sit for a moment. "What you did—what happened with you and Piper—that's your personal business. I'm not your marriage counselor. But when it involves someone under your command, when it undermines the integrity of my crew, it stops being your business and becomes mine.”
"I know."
"Do you?" He shook his head. "Jenna has already put in for a transfer. Left last week. Said she couldn't work here anymore after everything that happened. So now I'm down a firefighter and I've got a crew that doesn't trust you."
My stomach dropped. "She transferred?"
"She’s over at Harbor now. Effective immediately." He studied me. "You didn't know."
I hadn't. I knew Jenna had gone quiet after everything blew up, but I didn’t realize she’d left completely.
"The crew knows what happened," Morrison continued. "They know you cheated on Piper, and that you did it with someone from this station. They also know she caught youhere, and they know it was Jenna. Not that it takes a genius to put that together." He leaned forward. "Everyone loved Piper, Sullivan. She was part of this family. Showed up for every event, treated everyone with respect. And you… you made this station a punch line because of a meaningless fling.”
"It wasn't—" I stopped. What was I going to say? That it wasn't a fling? That it wasn't meaningless? Both of those were lies.
"I’m not going to fire you,” Morrison said. "Frankly, you’re lucky Jenna didn’t take this upstairs. If she’d filed anything formal, you’d already be gone and I’d be buried in paperwork." He exhaled hard. "But as it stands, I’m going to strongly suggest you put in for a transfer. Fresh start somewhere else. Because right now? This crew’s uncomfortable. You’ve broken their trust, and that’s dangerous in our line of work."
He was right. If the crew didn't trust me, didn't want to work with me, that could get someone killed. We relied on each other in ways most people didn't understand. One person out of sync could mean the difference between life and death.
"How long do I have?" I asked.
"End of the month, son. I'll approve whatever transfer you want, wherever you want to go." He stood up and walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the handle and turned back to look at me.
"I'm disappointed in you, Sullivan. I thought you were better than this." He was quiet for a moment, pressed his lip into a thin line. "But I hope you learn from it. Hope you do better next time."
Then he left, closing the door behind him.
I thought you were better than this. I'd heard those exact words from Scott three weeks ago.
Turned out everyone thought I was better than this.
They were all wrong.
CHAPTER 12: PIPER
ONE YEAR LATER
The last customer left a little before closing, and I locked the door behind her with a satisfaction that hadn't worn off yet.
Rise & Shine had only been open five days, and we’d sold out every day.
I flipped the sign to CLOSED and leaned against the door, taking in the space that was mine. Small—barely eight hundred square feet—but perfect. Exposed brick walls, industrial shelving, a vintage cash register I'd found at an estate sale. The display case was empty now, just a few crumbs where chocolate croissants and lemon bars and cinnamon rolls had been this morning.
All gone. Every last pastry.
I'd started baking at four AM and hadn't stopped until two, when I'd run out of flour. Tomorrow I'd have to order more supplies and adjust my numbers. Maybe hire help if this kept up.
The thought made me smile.
A year ago, I'd been sitting in a classroom wondering if quitting teaching would be a mistake. Wondering if a bakery was just a pipe dream, if I was throwing away a stable career for something that might fail.
It hadn’t been easy. I’d spent that year saving every penny, baking out of Maya’s kitchen, selling at farmers’ markets and pop-ups until I could afford this place. But, God, it had been worth. I was finally here, in my own space, doing what I loved. And making enough money to actually pay rent.
I grabbed the broom and started sweeping, humming something I'd heard on the radio that morning.
The door rattled, and I looked up to see Maya's face pressed against the glass, grinning like a maniac.
I unlocked it and she burst in, holding a bottle of wine.
