Page 33 of Venus
“What the hell, Carter?” she yells over the beeping, setting down the pan and pulling the headphones off her head. “Are you kicking down my door now?”
My heart stumbles and restarts. “You weren’t answering.”
“Because I was fanning smoke out the window!” she snaps. “I burned a grilled cheese!”
Jackson enters behind me, confused. “So… not a fire?”
“No,” she says, dramatically wiping her forehead. “Just a tragic culinary misstep. I was trying to do something normal for once. Bad idea, apparently.”
Trevor peeks in. “Smells like regret.”
“Smells like cheddar,” Jackson mutters.
I’m still staring at her. Still winded. “You’re okay?”
She freezes at the tone of my voice.
The sarcasm slips. The fight goes out of her shoulders. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m fine.”
The alarm keeps shrieking.
I step forward, climb onto a chair, and disable it with a practiced flick of the wrist. Silence crashes into the apartment like a wave.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
“Next time,answer the damn door,” I say, trying to sound like I’m not still shaking.
She folds her arms. “Didn’t expect the entire station to show up.”
Trevor grins. “Well,someonepanicked. Practically leapt out of the truck and tackled your neighbor like a linebacker on the way up the stairs.”
I shoot him a look. “Get back downstairs. Secure the perimeter.”
“There’s no perimeter,” Jackson protests.
“Make one.”
Trevor gives me a mocking look and salutes me. “Yes, Lieutenant.”
They leave, smirking.
I’m alone with her now. And now that the adrenaline’s fading, something else starts creeping in.
I look around her apartment. It’s small, clean, but cluttered in a human way, like there’s signs of a busy life that takes refuge here after a long day. A soft throw blanket sits half-tangled on the couch. A pair of clean scrubs hanging on a Command hook on the bedroom door. A dog-eared paperback on the counter, pages wavy and discolored from a coffee stain.
“You know, if you wanted to see me that bad, you could have just said so. Kicking down my door was a little dramatic.”
“I tried calling. You didn’t answer. I thought you were in danger.”
“I was. Burnt cheese is a three-alarm emergency, clearly.” She looks toward the door and scowls slightly. “You’re paying for the repair.”
I step closer, ignoring her. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay? I’m sorry about your door, but there was an alarm and no answer. I was just doing my job.”
She gives me a half-smile. “I know. Thank you, Carter. But I’m fine. Really. My music was too loud, I just didn’t hear the alarm.”
I look at her for a long time, memorizing every strand of that curly blonde hair piled high on her head. Remembering how soft her skin feels under my fingertips.
Remembering that pain in my stomach every time we say goodbye after a night together.
