Reading Time: 112 Minutes

Title: A Room Where I Don’t Belong
Series: A Symptom of Being Human
Series Order: 3
Author: Jilly James
Fandom: 9-1-1
Genre: Contemporary, Drama, Family, Kid!fic, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Relationship(s): Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard
Content Rating: R
Warnings: *No Mandatory Warnings Apply. Attempted Murder. Canon-typical: violence, situations, and angst. Discussions of: sexual assault, rape by coercion, and child abuse. Mild character bashing. Procedural inaccuracies
Author Note: Please see main series page for all author notes. Title is from lyrics from A Symptom of Being Human by Shinedown
Beta: Ladyholder
Word Count: 52,700
Summary: Life returns to its usual rhythm with Buck returning to work, but work itself brings new connections, information comes out into the open, and their world keeps changing.
Artist: Nightsong21133
Artist Appreciation: The towel! It’s so perfect. Thanks again for everything.

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Episode Three: A Room Where I Don’t Belong

Chapter One

Buck sat cross-legged on his bed with Charlie bundled up in her bath towel, waiting for her body temperature to regulate and for her to be dry and warm enough to attempt diapering. “We have accomplished our first solo bath, baby girl. Despite how terrible today went, I think we’ll call this a win.”

When she wasn’t sleeping or eating, she seemed to always be tracing him with her eyes, but he was almost always talking to her.

“So, here’s the thing, sweet pea, tomorrow Daddy goes back to work, and you’ll have your first full day with Elaine. I know you spent some time today with her while I was at my doctor’s appointment, but I think a whole day is a little different. It sure will be different for me. I’ll probably drive Elaine bonkers asking her if you’re doing all right.

“Uncle Will should be in and out, though he’s promised not to pester Elaine too much. Read: he’ll be over constantly, I’m sure.” Buck ran his finger down her nose. “No matter what, you’re in good hands, but I promise, if you need me, I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and come right home.”

She responded by mouthing at her fist.

“I see how it is. Daddy’s getting emotional, and you demand food. Very well. I’ll be your Uber Eats delivery driver, madam, but I insist on a diaper first, so let’s do this fast. I think I’m adept enough now that I can get it on before you can get hostile about the nudity.”

A minute later, Buck exclaimed. “Ha!” Then he scooped Charlie up and went to get the bottle he’d prepared earlier and put it in the warmer.

While he was feeding her, his phone vibrated, and he glanced at where it was sitting on the side table. The display read Dr. Kanoa Sofer. The name was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. If it hadn’t been somewhat familiar, he wouldn’t have answered, as 7 PM on a Friday night was a strange time for any doctor to be calling him.

“This is Buck.”

“Mr. Buckley, this is Dr. Sofer. We met very briefly this afternoon.” Sofer had a thick accent that Buck thought sounded Australian.

“Oh! You’re in the same practice as Dr. Merrill.”

“I am, yes. I thought you might want to know how Melvin is doing.”

“I would like to know, yes.” Buck had barely gotten thirty minutes into his two-hour session with his new therapist when he’d called a halt to it, expressing his concern that he was seeing worrying signs that his elderly therapist was having a stroke. It had taken a minute to convince the man to let him call for an ambulance, but he’d heard nothing since. Dr. Sofer was the practice partner who’d shown up to hover over Dr. Merrill as soon as the ambulance had arrived.

“You were correct about the stroke, and because the intervention was so quick, and it was appropriate, they were able to administer tPA effectively. So far, everything looks good, and Melvin will likely make a full recovery, though I sincerely doubt he’ll be returning to his practice for some time, if at all.”

“I’m glad he’s going to be okay. tPA has such a short clock, and of course I understand that he’s got a long road ahead of him medically. I appreciate you taking the time to let me know his condition, Dr. Sofer.”

“Feel free to call me Kanoa, Mr. Buckley. I tend to be informal, though whatever you’re comfortable with is fine. I also called because Melvin has asked me to take you as my patient, if you’re amenable.”

“Oh.” Buck wasn’t sure what to make of that. His panicked reflex when Mari had insisted on therapy that the doctor be old or something wasn’t really an issue now. In a relatively short period of time, he felt better grounded about Dr. Welles and felt he had a better perspective about what had happened. He’d done a fair bit of reading about the legal and ethical obligations of therapists. The knowledge, coupled with what he suspected about Dr. Welles’ predatory nature, made it easier for him to deal with the idea of therapy. To such a degree that he didn’t feel he was at risk of such a situation happening again just because his therapist was younger or attractive. While Dr. Sofer was probably more like middle age, he could certainly be termed attractive. And Buck would be more likely to punch anyone who came onto him in a clinical setting at this point than anything, so he thought it was likely safe.

“Mr. Buckley?”

“I’m sorry; I was just considering. And please call me Buck. It seems like Dr. Merrill put you on the spot, which is a little unfair.”

“I’ve taken patients as favors to colleagues more times than I can count. I’d say fully twenty percent of my patient roster was taken on referral as favors; it’s not that unusual. But Melvin is my personal mentor. He sponsored me to go to university here in the States, and he’s why I am the clinician I am, why I have a big, happy family here. So, I’ll be bending over backwards for that man, and the first patient he asked me to take was you. There will be others, and I will accommodate as many of them as I can, but I’d like to slot you in first since you were the first person he requested I add to my practice.”

Buck felt a little flustered, but as much as he wanted to just say no, he knew he needed to do this. “Okay. I would appreciate that.”

“Melvin indicated some urgency, but he can’t discuss anything with me until I have a release signed. I can email it to you tonight, and you can DocuSign it, if that’s agreeable to you. Even though Melvin should be resting this weekend in the hospital, I can promise you, he’ll be working on handing off his patients, so I can get up to speed.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Though, try to get him to rest rather than work.”

“That won’t happen, but he’ll stress out less if I just make the transition as smooth as possible. You were a patient of his outside of the clinic practice, that’s why I need some sort of paperwork in order to get your case file from him.”

“I’m not sure there was much of a case file. We were in the middle of my intake.”

“I see.”

“Is it typical to have patients outside of the group practice?”

“We all have a few for various reasons. I occasionally consult with the FBI, and I do those consults as part of my private practice rather than through the clinic. Until I’m free to talk to Melvin, I won’t know why he chose to keep you as a private patient.”

“Um. All right.”

“You sound a little nervous.”

“A little.”

“Is there anything I can do to set your mind at ease?”

“I doubt it.”

“All right. I won’t press. I’ll just take care of things on my end and text you for appointments as soon as I can talk to Melvin.”

“If you’ll send me the paperwork now, I’ll sign it tonight. I have a twenty-four-hour shift starting at seven in the morning.”

“Twenty-four…? You’re a firefighter?”

“Yes.”

“With which agency?”

“LAFD.”

“Hmm. I definitely need to talk to Melvin. Do sign the forms I’m sending now, and I’ll be in touch as soon as possible. Thank you again, Buck. Even if you decide not to pursue therapy with me, you have my eternal gratitude for what you did for Melvin.”

“I think a lot of that is the LAFD’s training, but you’re welcome.”

A moment later, Buck hung up with many unanswered questions, but he put them out of his mind for the moment to tend to feeding Charlie, who was blinking slowly while watching him intently.

“Was Daddy not paying enough attention to you?”

There was a startling thump from what seemed like the floor below, and Buck gave a little jolt of surprise, but then he put it out of his mind. There was one roommate who tended to slam doors quite a lot, but even as loud as she could get, it wasn’t enough to disturb Charlie due to the house’s great construction, so he didn’t really care how hard she slammed doors. The other roommates could fight the battle of her discourtesy with Will.

He was still rocking and winding Charlie, mentally going through his prep for going back to work tomorrow, ensuring everything was done, when the noise level from downstairs got louder and more sustained. It was noticeable, but still wouldn’t disturb Charlie, so he just wondered at it and kept his attention mostly on his kid with a small bit of his mind running through his checklist for the morning.

He’d just moved on to skin-to-skin, with his favorite mint green blanket thrown over Charlie, when he heard Will run past Buck’s door, then the landing door was audibly flung open. The minute the door was open, the yelling from downstairs could easily be heard.

“Ah, sh-oot.” Charlie was way too young for him to really worry about his language, but he figured he’d better work on his bad language habits now.

There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about whatever was going on below him, so he just stayed focused on getting Charlotte ready to go down in a few minutes.

Then there was a knock at his door.

He jolted again, tucked his phone into his pocket, then cautiously answered it, finding Haley, who was Isaac’s friend—the one who had taken over Buck’s room—standing there wringing her hands. He’d only met her one time officially and nodded at her in passing on his way out the door. She was a tiny bit of a young woman who looked like she was barely old enough to be out of high school, but she was apparently a couple of years older than Buck. She had a big red spot blooming on her cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

“Angelica and Tricia are trying to kill each other or something, and Will and Issac need help keeping them apart. Will already has a cut on his cheek, and I got a shoe in my face for trying to get between them. Rick called the cops already, but he was bleeding too. I have babysitting experience,” she ventured cautiously.

“Shit.” Buck handed her Charlie. “The whole suite is under video surveillance. She’s already asleep, so get an ice pack if you need it; water is in the fridge. But stay in the living room.”

“I promise.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely. Better with the baby than whatever Angelica is throwing. I’m studying pediatric care anyway, so I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’m closing the landing door so no one can get up here. Charlie has her car seat in here if you need to put her down to come get us.”

“Got it.”

Buck took a leap of faith to leave Charlie with her, promising to review every bit of video afterward, and ran down the stairs. He got to the main floor, fortunately with shoes on, considering all the glass, just as Angelica eeled away from Isaac, grabbed a vase, and heaved it at Will’s head.

Buck managed to deflect the vase, causing it to shatter against the doorjamb, showering Will with glass, then he pinned Angelica against the wall in a hammerlock, with his legs on either side of hers, so no matter how much she yelled and kicked out, she was basically just tapping the insides of his calves.

“You got her?” Will asked, blood streaming down the side of his face.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t even that hard to hold her, despite how much she was screaming and squirming.

Buck couldn’t see what Isaac and Will were up to with Tricia, but it apparently calmed down faster once Angelica wasn’t doing whatever she’d been trying to do.

“Where’s Rick?” Buck called out.

“He’s out front, waiting for the police,” Will said. “He got a big chunk of glass in his foot, so he was out of commission early on.”

“So, paramedics were called too?”

“I am a paramedic,” Will said waspishly.

“Will. You’re the homeowner, a victim, and a witness,” Buck said gently, holding Angelica a little more firmly when she seemed intent on trying to wiggle away and to bite.

“I’ll take him to the hospital for stitches when we’re done here,” Isaac said. “He doesn’t need to go by ambulance for a few stitches in his pretty face.”

A moment later, multiple officers were in the room, and someone was yelling at Buck to, “let the woman go and put your hands on your head!”

Buck was pretty sure he was going to get kicked in the balls the minute he did that, but he sighed and prepared for injury even as Will, Rick, and Isaac started yelling over the cops that Angelica was the problem.

Then a louder voice interjected. “Everyone be silent!” and it was the sort of voice people listened to.

“Lieutenant,” one of the officers said. “We weren’t told you were—”

“I was finishing up a case two blocks from here, and this sounded out of control, so I thought I’d stop by and help. I’m pretty sure I heard it reported through dispatch and by the witness bleeding all over the porch that the person who did all this, especially the flinging of glass, is the woman being contained carefully by the very large firefighter. I also heard that said firefighter had been asleep until he was called down to help them since she was throwing breakables everywhere, which means he wasn’t involved in whatever precipitated this.

“With that in mind, I don’t care how many people you want to eventually detain through the questioning phase, but you will put the reported primary aggressor in handcuffs first. Are we clear?”

The officer who’d ordered Buck away from Angelica was surly about having to detain her before he could detain Buck. But the minute the guy took his eyes off of her, she kicked the cop right in the balls.

Buck was just grateful that he had been relieved of Angelica wrestling duty and was several steps back when the cop dropped to the ground with a screech and another officer immediately tazed her.

The lieutenant just stared at the chaos and said, “Well, that could have gone better.”

Buck admired his dry wit and ability to understate a problem.

~*~

Due to the complete chaos in the rest of the house, Buck had relented and headed upstairs with the lieutenant to give his statement. The lieutenant, named Ransone, was apparently a big deal in Major Crimes and was head of the detectives bureau for MC, and wouldn’t normally be involved in a domestic disturbance, but they’d only dispatched one car initially, and he’d been listening over the radio as the call had continued to escalate, and since he was close, reviewing his case notes, he’d decided to come lend a hand.

A field sergeant had arrived, who was actually in charge of the scene, and Ransone was helping with taking a few of the statements of those less involved, since the scene was a mess and Angelica was still requiring two of the officers to wrangle her since she was refusing to get in the car. As of the moment Buck had headed upstairs with Ransone, they’d had no success in trying to force her into the back of the police vehicle, and additional officers had been called just to manage her.

When they got to the third floor, Buck entered the code. “There are only two suites up here. The owner and me. Normally, no one else has access, but Haley, who is in my room waiting now, arrived and asked me to come down to help after she got clocked in the face with a shoe. You’ll have to ask her how she got up here. I’m assuming Will sent her.”

“And Will Connors is the homeowner?”

“Yes. I know Will is going to turn over all the security videos from the common areas, but I arrived just in time to keep a large glass vase from colliding with Will’s head. She was utterly crazed. I’d normally try to talk someone down, but when all my roommates are bruised or bleeding, and they’re telling me she’s the main culprit, I just contained her and didn’t ask questions.”

“And you are a firefighter, correct? I was pretty sure I had that right from the descriptions coming to dispatch.”

“I am.”

They entered the apartment and found Haley sitting in the rocker with an icepack pressed to her cheek. She jolted up as soon as they entered. “Is everything okay?” Her gaze immediately flicked to where Charlie was conked out in her car seat. “I was fine holding her, but she was clearly tired, and I think my agitation was affecting her, so I put her in her seat.”

“That’s great, Haley. Thanks. Let me just put her in her bassinet. Detective Ransone, this is Haley Pearce. Haley is one of the tenants on the second floor. I haven’t spoken to her about what happened. We only talked long enough for her to ask for my help and offer to watch my kid.”

Ransone glanced at Charlotte with some curiosity, but he didn’t ask anything.

“Let me just put her in her bassinet, and I’ll be right out.” He took a few seconds to get Charlie settled, making sure she was sleeping, before he grabbed the baby monitor and returned to the sitting room.

Haley was sitting at the small table, writing on some form. Ransone was wandering around, looking at everything in the room. He crossed to Buck’s side and pointed to the security camera.

Buck shook his head. “Not part of the home system. I pay for that separately, and it’s on a separate account. Even if I were willing to release it, and I’m not sure why it would be needed, all it would show is Haley coming up here.”

“Could help with confirming timeline and when and why you were involved.”

“The common area video should do that.” Buck pursed his lips. “I’ll be frank that I don’t see why that would be needed, but I’ll pull the video in case it is required so it’s not deleted by accident or something.”

“Fair enough. Let’s just run through your direct knowledge of the events of the evening, and we’ll see where that takes us.”

A few minutes later, Haley had given her signed statement to Ransone, then left to go back downstairs with Buck’s fervent thanks for watching Charlie.

Ransone read over Haley’s statement, his brow furrowed. “Interesting that she doesn’t mention your daughter in her statement. Just that she went up here to retrieve you and waited up here with an icepack on her face.”

“Is my daughter relevant?”

Ransone gave Buck a sharp look, then raised his brow in obvious question.

Buck sighed. “I’m adopting Charlotte. Her mother signed away her rights and signed legal documents giving custody to me.” Simplified, but the truth. “Adoption is still a process, and there are home studies, therapy appointments, and all kinds of scrutiny. My good housemates are protective of Charlie. I doubt Angelica even knows the circumstances, since she’s always been self-absorbed and barely pays attention to anyone who can’t make her more interesting on Insta. She probably thinks I’ve been babysitting for a friend or something.”

Ransone nodded slowly, looking over the statement again. “I don’t see why your daughter needs to be mentioned in the reports. However, if the security footage is needed from your apartment, there might be questions about the presence of a baby but, again, her presence here isn’t germane to anything that happened on the first or second floor.” He met Buck’s gaze. “I think our business is more or less concluded. The arresting officer will have a formal complaint all of the housemates will have to come down to the station and sign. Whoever is deemed the primary aggressor will likely have a no-contact order for several occupants of this address as part of her bond conditions.” Ransone offered Buck his card. “In the end, this isn’t my case, and my involvement will end after tonight, but if something comes up, feel free to call.”

Buck was surprised at the offer, but he took the card and nodded, grateful Ransone was going to help keep Charlie out of all of this. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Or is Detective more appropriate?”

“Either is fine, though in most contexts, detective works. And there’s nothing to thank me for, Mr. Buckley. Have a better night.”

~*~

It was nearing ten, and definitely pushing Buck’s bedtime before a workday, when Will tapped lightly at his door. Buck hastily opened it. He’d been getting text updates, but seeing his friend in person was absolutely required.

He winced at the bandage on Will’s cheek. “Stitches?” Buck led him over to the chair and stuck Will in the rocker since he figured Will could take Charlie’s late feed when she woke up in a little bit.

Will nodded. “Six very small ones. Hopefully it won’t scar too badly.”

“How is everyone else?”

“Rick is less concerned about scarring on his foot than I am about my face, but he still needed a good dozen for all the glass he took. He’s going to be in a surgical shoe for at least a couple of weeks. Shouldn’t impact his classes and work too much since it’s his left foot, and he’ll still be able to drive. Isaac and Haley were mostly just scratched and bruised. They’re going to take a day off classes and then get back into the swing of it.”

“Tricia?”

“Arrested, too, in the end. I don’t know how they judge these things, but Tricia actually hit first in the spat between the two of them, but Angelica just went off and brought the whole house into it.”

“Any idea why?”

Will dropped his head into his hands. “It’s a mess.”

“I figured. Especially since Tricia and Angelica used to get along.”

“The spat was apparently about the type of men they like to date, and it got ugly. No one will ever know what was actually said, but Tricia told the cops they were discussing preferences in the men they date, and that had led to Angelica accusing Tricia of fetishizing men of racial minorities.”

“Oh brother.”

“Right. Anyway, it escalated from there, until Angelica said this, and Tricia said that, and Angelica called her a racist, and then Tricia slapped the ever lovin’ shit out of her.”

“That seems like an overreaction.”

“Seems like it to me, too, but not nearly as much as Anglica. It’s not like her response was proportional. Tricia lobbed a little bomb, but Angelica went nuclear.”

“On the whole house and everyone in it,” Buck muttered. “Well, what now?”

“Angelica, at least, won’t be able to come back here. Tricia may have been the initial aggressor between the two of them, but Angelica instigated everything with the rest of the house. Regardless, I’m evicting them both. Angelica will be easier to get gone since she won’t be able to come to the house due to her bond conditions. At least, I’m assuming she’ll get typical no-contact bond conditions whenever she gets out. Not sure what the situation with Tricia will be until she goes before a judge. I doubt they’ll give her no-contact conditions regarding the rest of us since the only person she was aggressive with was Angelica, who can’t come here anyway. If she’s reasonable about the whole thing, I’ll give her time to find a new circumstance, but she can’t live here. I can’t have people living here who think responding with fists due to words is ever the right solution.”

Buck wasn’t surprised by that at all. It was a very clearly spelled out term in the lease that if you laid hands on another tenant in a violent fashion, you’d be immediately evicted.

“And how are you really?” Buck asked gently.

“Pissed.” Will gently touched his cheek. “Frustrated that I have to find new tenants. I’d have never rented to either of them if I’d known they had violent tendencies.”

“I know, man, but even if you outright asked all the questions, people don’t usually admit they’re likely to slap first and speak reasonably second.”

“True.” Will rubbed his forehead. “I don’t suppose you know anyone looking for a place to rent, do you?”

Buck pursed his lips. “A couple of guys on A and a couple on B were looking for new situations when I was last at work, yeah. I’m not sure who is looking for a room and who is looking for an apartment, though. That’s definitely a different mood. And one dude might be house hunting.”

Will eyed him. “And would you be comfortable with people from your station possibly living here?”

Buck heard the faintest sound of fussing on the monitor. “Can I sound out the situation and then get back to you?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be cleaning up all the damn glass all weekend anyway. Plus, there will no doubt be repairs needed, and I’ll probably have to wait on Tricia’s eviction.”

Buck went and got Charlie, settling her gently in Will’s arms.

Will blinked down at her. “I didn’t even hear her.”

“You’re a little distracted by the stitches in your face and the chaos of the evening. Let me get her bottle. You can feed her and let your adrenaline system come down so you can get some sleep tonight.”

Stroking her soft, downy hair, Will smiled at her. “Hey, Princess. Sorry about the chaos earlier. Uncle Will promises to never rent to another Instagram influencer. Seems like a bullshit job to have anyway.”

Buck laughed and rolled his eyes.

Chapter Two

Buck sat in his KIA in the parking lot of the 118, wishing he were back home. Leaving Charlie with Elaine was terrible, even though he trusted her completely to care for his baby.

He already had a text from Kanoa Sofer about the follow-up from last night.

Sofer: I agree with Melvin’s decision to keep you on his individual patient list rather than on the clinic roster. I can explain when we meet, if you’re still agreeable. I can restart your intake tomorrow, if you have time, and then finish the intake on Monday evening at six instead of Monday afternoon?

Buck hesitated, then sent a reply.

Buck: You work on Sundays?

Sofer: I’ll be adding a few weekend and evening appointments for at least a couple of months to work in all of Melvin’s patients I’m adding to my roster. The whole practice will. So, yes, I’ll be working the occasional Saturday or Sunday. I would have offered today, but you said you were working.

He really didn’t want to do any of this, but he would because he had to.

Buck: Monday at six is fine, though I may have to bring my daughter with me. Same for tomorrow. What time?

Sofer: 1 or 2 would be ideal tomorrow, but I can make anything after 11 work. Daughter is fine. She’s a month old?

Buck: Yes. Born on Jan 1st. I can do 1. Same office building?

Sofer: I normally do weekend visits from my home office, but until we’ve built up rapport where you’re comfortable, the clinic is fine. I’ll meet you there at 1. See you tomorrow. Be safe.

Buck: Will do. Give my best to Dr. Merrill.

He then texted Elaine because he couldn’t help himself.

Buck: She OK?

The phone immediately rang with a FaceTime call, displaying Elaine’s name. He answered it and was greeted with Charlie’s mouthing at her own fist as Elaine tickled her belly.

“She’s happy as a baby this age can be, Buck,” Elaine’s voice came from offscreen.

“I’m sorry to be a pain.”

“You’re a new parent. It’s expected. I’ll try to send you updates as frequently as I think a new parent in your situation is starting to fret, and then we’ll work on slowing down those updates as the days go by, okay? For this first day, let’s just get through the separation anxiety with lots of updates and lots of photos of the cutest baby in the world. Aren’t you the cutest?” Elaine’s voice shifted to that distinct talking-to-baby tone, and Buck grinned. “Yes, you’re the cutest baby ever. Now, stop eating your hand, and I’ll get you a bottle. Say bye to Daddy so he can go to work and save all the wonderful little babies in the world.”

Buck’s eyes felt a little misty as Charlie sucked on her fist, eyes focused on him. “Bye, sweet pea. Daddy loves you. Bye, Elaine. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” She hung up, and thirty seconds later, a picture of Charlie came in text messages with heart emojis all over it.

Buck laughed and wiped his eyes before hopping out of the car. He still had plenty of time before his shift started, but if he stayed out here wallowing, he would call Elaine again, and then he’d definitely be late.

In his distraction, he hadn’t noticed that Marcus DeKay, the engineer for A-shift, had arrived and had parked next to Buck. He was just rounding the rear of his pickup when Buck closed his door.

DeKay cocked his head to the side and took in Buck’s vehicle. “Something happen to the Jeep?”

“Reliability became an issue,” Buck said vaguely.

DeKay nodded slowly. “That age and being a Jeep…not the most reliable thing on the market, but you’ve kept it going a long time, so you had a good mechanic.”

“I kept it up myself.”

DeKay’s brows lifted. “Oh?”

“I don’t have certifications or anything, but I worked in garages here or there. I can handle basic maintenance on my vehicle.”

“Huh. Well, I am a certified mechanic, and I’d have given the Jeep a look if you needed help.”

Buck blinked. “Oh, well…. Thanks. That’s a nice offer. I just needed something more reliable in the long run, and I figured it was time to part with it. There was more sentiment involved with the Jeep than practicality.”

DeKay actually smiled a little. “Ah, well, pretty sure long-term car ownership is half about sentiment. Some day you’ll find a reason to be sentimental about this one.”

He thought about Charlie and bringing her home for the first time and smiled faintly. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s true.”

In fact, the base of her car seat was in the back, but the rear windows were darkly tinted, so someone would have to be pretty curious and know it was his vehicle and what the base was to have any questions. Still, he needed to come up with an answer for why he had a baby seat in case anyone asked.

He fell into step with DeKay, it feeling oddly new despite the fact that they’d worked together for months. Buck usually arrived before most of A-shift, and tended to sit and talk to Bobby before anyone else turned up for assignments while Bobby was making duty rosters. He’d been determined to crack Bobby’s reserve for months now because Bobby held himself so aloof from the team, despite being an obviously good captain. Bobby also seemed to clearly like all of them, so Buck wasn’t sure why he kept such a strong reserve around himself. He just worked and read his little book all the time.

Buck realized how little he interacted with anyone else on shift outside of Bobby, Hen, and Chim. Hell, DeKay drove the ladder truck most of the time, and Buck hadn’t really connected with him all that much. He was so busy trying to gain Bobby’s approval and connect with the man that he hadn’t bothered, in eight months, to really get to know anyone besides the people closest to Bobby. The thought gave him pause and something to think about.

“So…” DeKay began, “you know your way around an engine?”

Curious, Buck nodded.

“Great. I’ll have Nash put you through rotation on the engineer duties. He’s been very focused on core skills for you, but if you’ve already got some mechanic skills, you can rotate through on those sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah, okay.” Buck hiked his bag up on his shoulder. “I’d like that.” Working closer with DeKay would remove the temptation of spilling his guts about Charlie all over Hen and Bobby.

“Would you?” DeKay asked, sounding truly curious.

“Yeah. I really want to learn everything.” He hesitated. “I know I’ve been a little hyper-focused on making sure Bobby is pleased with my performance after…” he made a vague gesture.

DeKay grinned. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all wanted to, and no matter what Han and Wilson say, you had been tasked with taking that off-line engine out, so you hadn’t stolen it. Sucks you got busted, but most of us don’t give a shit.”

“Seriously?”

Scoffing, DeKay shook his head. “That you got laid on the clock? As long as it’s not a habit and as long as it’s not putting people in jeopardy, most of us don’t care. I think Jones finds it aspirational.”

Buck groaned. “No. I really fucked up.”

“Maybe so, but the people who care the most are the people you’re spending the most time with, so you’re not being given the opportunity to let it go.” He shrugged. “Maybe doing a rotation on engineer duties for a few shifts will be good for you. Besides, I’m tired of being on the creeper.”

Buck laughed.

“I’ll talk to Calley about it, and she’ll clear it with Nash when they work on the duty rosters.”

“That’d be good. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

~*~

Even after changing into his uniform, Buck was still ten minutes before shift start, so he went to make coffee, finding a couple of other members of A-shift in the loft. Notably, Bobby wasn’t up with the duty assignments yet.

Hen immediately crossed to him. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Doing good.” He put on a sympathetic smile. “How’s Chim?” He’d been getting occasional updates, but it sounded like the guy was just in a lot of pain and frustrated that Tatiana wasn’t there for him. That he was conscious and coherent enough to be frustrated about anything was a fucking miracle that he didn’t seem to appreciate.

“Not a lot has changed, unfortunately. He’s lucky to be alive, and we’re all really focused on that.” She gave him a wan smile. “Hey, did your family issues get resolved?”

“Resolved is the wrong word, but the urgent issue is past.”

“Well, if you need anything, you know you can reach out to us, right? Any of us would be there for you.”

He nodded, turning it over in his head, wondering if it were true. In truth, he’d felt connected to some of the team right away, but sometimes he wondered how much of that connection was his own desperate need for more people in his life. And how much was his own recent revelation about staying connected to whoever was close to Bobby. He wasn’t blind to his insecurities; he just wasn’t sure what to do about them.

If nothing else, his attorney flinging him headlong into therapy to ensure the success of the adoption could help with some of his other problems. But he was already antsy about how therapy would go, so he wasn’t going to heap expectations on the outcome.

Since he’d brought Charlie home and sat up with her that first night, he was suddenly evaluating every interaction through the lens of “will this affect my ability to adopt my baby girl?” Not that he thought Hen was a threat, but he felt uneasy for reasons he couldn’t articulate.

“I didn’t see your Jeep when I pulled in,” she continued. “Did someone drop you off?”

“New vehicle. The Jeep was on its last legs. This has been in the works for a bit, though.” That was a stretch of the truth. He’d considered several times over the years getting rid of the Jeep—like every time it had broken down—but sentiment had always won out.

“Oh.” She gave him a sly grin. “Was part of the family emergency car shopping?”

His expression closed off. “No. The car was ordered online and delivered on what would have been a normal day off before my vacation days.”

She was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Buck, I was just teasing. I didn’t actually mean you were taking time off to buy a car. Bad jokes are my way of trying to segue into asking about your family. You never mention them, so none of us knew you had family you were close to until we talked in the hospital the other night.”

Buck tried to figure out how to answer that without actually answering. “I think we all have people somewhere, even if we’re not close. Or maybe they’re just gone. Right now, there’s just one person I’m close to but, no, I don’t talk about them. It’s just not something I’m prepared to discuss at work.”

She gave him a concerned look and squeezed his arm. “Of course, I understand. But I’m always here if you need to talk.”

He gave a tight nod and managed to extricate himself and head for the coffee maker.

~*~

Buck pushed through his workout, rhythmically doing chest presses, his mind on Charlie, wondering if she was okay. Elaine had texted regularly, including an indulgent number of pictures, so he had nothing to worry about, but he couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t had to come back to work so soon—that he’d arranged for more time off.

Fortunately, the way his workdays fell and the days he had taken off lined up, he was about to have four days off again, so he only had to work this one day before he had another half week with Charlie. As tempting as it was to take a lot of time off, he was a probationary firefighter, and if he wanted to pass his probationary period, he needed to avoid raising any red flags.

Devon Jones abruptly appeared above him, guiding the bar out of Buck’s hands to rest in the rack. “I think that’s enough, man. You push any harder, you’re going to be useless if we get a call.” Jones had normally been reserved with Buck, but his look was openly concerned, and he seemed to hesitate before asking, “You okay?”

Buck swung to a seated position and mopped his face, feeling the tremor in his arms; he hadn’t been aware how close to exhaustion he’d pushed it. “Yeah. Just stuff on my mind.”

“Mm.” Jones hesitated. “You normally talk to Nash or Wilson, but you’ve been a little quiet since you got back from those days off.”

Buck bit his lip. “Just stuff…I don’t want to affect my probationary period.”

Jones nodded slowly. “Problems?”

“Family stuff. I don’t want to stick out for the wrong reasons.”

“I get that.” Jones blew out a breath. “And you think you can’t tell Nash?” Jones usually rode on the triple engine, but he’d been on the truck a time or two, and Buck had been comfortable with him when they’d had to work a rescue together.

“I don’t think he would understand the decisions I’ve made, and I don’t need the whole station second-guessing me.” Buck offered a wan smile and tried to change the subject. “I guess I’m done with my workout; my arms feel like Jello. Thanks for the assist; I’ll pay closer attention in the future.” He blew out a breath. “Maybe I’ll check out the OT postings and see what’s on offer. Need to make up for that time off.” He didn’t really need OT, but it was an easy out, and it’d be good for Buck to work on getting some exposure outside of the 118.

Jones’ expression was inscrutable as he nodded and followed Buck over to the board outside the Captains’ offices, where the list of supplemental shifts on offer was posted.

Buck frowned and let his fingers trail over the most urgent posting. Harbor needed someone for aerial rescue for this shift.

“Too bad my SAR certs aren’t good here.”

DeKay made an inquiring noise as he joined them at the board. “You’re going into the next RRS, right?” Rope Rescue Specialist was unusual for probies, but Bobby had felt Buck was good enough for Buck to attend ASAP. It was weirdly insulting, in a way, since Buck had training way beyond RRS.

“Yeah. It’s in a couple of weeks, and it’ll round out my rope certifications for the LAFD, but it feels so redundant since I did that course years ago.” The rest of the shifts on offer were standard full and half shifts at other stations—nothing particularly interesting.

“California is one of the worst states for accepting out-of-state training,” Jones agreed. “There are only certain certification programs they accept. How much did you get done?”

“I was doing wilderness search and rescue in Colorado and did most of my training with FEMA in New Mexico, and I had all the classes to do the SARTECH II certification. I was considering going for SARTECH III after I picked up the last couple of urban skill courses after the LAFD academy, but they said my certs wouldn’t transfer. I guess I got frustrated and haven’t plotted out a path to redo all my training.”

DeKay stared at him. “You have FEMA-certified SAR training?”

Buck nodded.

“California does accept FEMA-certified training.”

“Seriously?”

Jones laughed. “Holy shit. We got passed over for that task force designation because they couldn’t get enough SAR-trained assets out here for A-shift. I’m like the only one. The irony, man.”

DeKay nudged Jones hard enough to knock him off balance. “Go find something to do, Devon. Buck, let’s talk to Calley.”

Lieutenant Alyssa Calley was the lead for the triple engine, and Buck hadn’t worked with her much since he’d started at the station since he was almost always on the truck, but he found himself standing next to where she was running on the treadmill, feeling a little flustered as DeKay explained Buck’s situation.

She pushed the stop button and cocked her head to the side. “Who told you your certifications wouldn’t be accepted?”

“One of my trainers at the academy. Roger McGill.”

She blew out a breath. “And he parses which candidates would be good for which stations and sends recommendations to the captains. If you came in with full SARTECH II certs, they should have tried to get you into a task force station instead of a light brigade. For sure, the SAR bureaus would have picked you up if they’d known. They’d have wanted you out in the Valley, though, with that kind of wilderness experience.” She hopped nimbly off the side ledge of the treadmill. “Let’s go have a look at your file.” She gave DeKay a nod, and he patted Buck on the arm and disappeared into the locker room.

Buck followed Calley into the Captain’s office after she’d changed. “Should I talk to Cap?”

She shrugged. “If you wish, but I can look up your file. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t want Bobby to think I was doing an end run or something…?”

“About what? You had a question, I was there, I’m checking into it. If it were one of the guys on the triple, no one would think twice about it, and eventually, you will ride with me. If Bobby has an issue with me helping anyone on shift, he and I can hash that out privately.” She tapped away at the computer and then stared a lot. The only sign she was doing anything was the movement of her mouse hand.

She whistled lowly. “That’s a lot of water rescue and high-line rope work. And this is odd. Your certifications are in your file, but they’re not in your qualifications list.”

“What does that mean?”

“Qualifications list is a searchable index the department uses for all employees so that we can find who has a specific skill. But your certifications are just listed in your employee file as a supplemental—like an unsearchable notes field. And yours are absolutely transferable to California, so… Hmm…” she trailed off, mumbling to herself. Next thing Buck knew, he was being ushered off to the showers, and Calley was summoning Bobby to the captain’s office.

~*~

“You could have said something to me,” Bobby said, sounding vaguely disappointed.

“I didn’t know there was anything to say,” Buck returned, trying not to get defensive. “It came up incidentally while talking to Jones and DeKay. Then Calley was looking into it. If I thought the department was wrong, I’d have pushed it at the Academy.”

Bobby looked pensive. “But then you probably wouldn’t have made it here; you’d be in a SAR bureau,” he said, offering a smile. “And I do think you fit in around here.”

Buck offered a return smile, but it felt a little forced. He reminded himself that most captains did their own hiring, and Bobby hadn’t chosen him. Buck had been reassigned from the 115 because Bobby had an unexpected opening after one of his people transferred. Plus, the 115 was a SAR-ready task force station in the West Bureau that the 118 was backup for, and they’d gotten someone with several SAR certifications, which Buck assumed was why he’d been punted from his spot at that station.

“I’ve already spoken with HR and the union, and your certifications are being updated in the system. Typically, they’d prefer the updates propagate, but if you’d like the shift at Harbor, they don’t have anyone else yet, and they were going to have to limit the scope of rescue operations out of that station.”

Buck blinked. “But that’s the second half of this shift.”

“Yeah, but the chief agrees the Harbor shift is a priority. Technically, you’re a probie here. We don’t normally send probies to Harbor at all, but we also don’t have many with your qualifications either. It’s up to you. We can shift Jones between whichever apparatus needs the manpower more if you decide to spend the second half of A-shift at Harbor. The chief will try to get a floater for this station to at least get us some extra hands if you decide to go.”

Buck considered. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been considering when he’d looked at the board, but it was an opportunity to escape the looks and questions about him needing a couple of days off.

While Buck was mulling it over, Bobby asked, “You were quiet your first shift back. Has everything been going okay with your family?”

Buck fought resorting to all his nervous habits. “It’s going to be ongoing for a while. Not the crisis, but, um, family doesn’t go away, and there are issues I need to resolve. I’ll try not to let it affect work again.”

Bobby looked a little stricken. “It’s fine, Buck. I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t take your PTO when you need to. Just apply for it like anyone else. I’m more concerned about you personally. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Part of Buck wanted to say yes, wanted to ask for advice, and just reassurance that he was doing the right thing, but he remembered Bobby’s reactions the day they rescued her.

He’d backed up Sergeant Grant that Marika and Charlotte should be transported together; he’d thought Buck was wrong. Also…

Leave it at the door.

He was supposed to leave it at the door.

Would Bobby be disappointed? Would he go so far as to fire Buck for getting involved in the situation? Could the department interfere in Charlie’s adoption? He needed to talk to Mari about it and find out if any of that was a risk.

“No, Bobby. There’s nothing anyone can do to help. It’s just going to take time.” It didn’t help that Hen had known before he ever got to the hospital about his “family issue.” It’s not like it was super confidential, but it left him feeling wrong-footed and exposed about what was said and to who. He didn’t know what was confidential between him and Bobby, and he wasn’t sure how to ask.

He bumped into Jones in the locker room as he was packing up his gear to head over to Harbor.

Jones leaned against the lockers and raised a brow. “Leaving us already?”

Buck smiled and shook his head. “I guess the department prioritizes the shift at Harbor a little higher, so I’m headed over there to fill in.”

Jones nodded. “You know, if they get your credentials straightened out, Nash might have a hard time keeping you here. They’re going to want to put you in a SAR bureau or at least a full taskforce station.”

Buck made a face.

“Comfort and familiarity are good and all, but you should figure out what you want out of your job.”

“Don’t you have a lot of SAR certifications? You run all the rescues on the triple, right?”

“And I don’t particularly want to be in a SAR Bureau. I like the variety we get here. I’m not sure I want to run back-to-back Search and Rescue again. It’s not for everyone. Though the right partner helps. You ever find anyone in the field you have good synergy with for SAR, hold on with both hands; it makes a huge difference.”

Buck batted his lashes. “Jones, was that a proposal?”

Jones laughed. “You ass. I never knew you had the humor, but I can take it. You should ride with us on the triple for a while. Your probationary period is about being well-rounded. Bobby has been training you how to do shit you already know.”

That was true. Buck had almost tripped over his own feet when Bobby had demonstrated a winch to him.

“On a non-work-related topic, before my little family emergency, I know there were several people at the station looking for a new living situation. You were one of them, right?”

Jones frowned and nodded. “Yeah. What of it?”

“I live in a room share. Really nice house, actually. Owner is fussy about who he rents to. I personally have a trajectory to move out in the next three to six months, but um, we lost two tenants last night.”

“How do you lose two tenants in one night?”

“One of the iron-clad rules is no violence on the premises, especially towards other tenants, and there was a full-on cat fight last night that wound up with three other tenants plus the owner getting injured. One can’t even set foot on the property anymore as part of her bond conditions, and her stuff is being packed up for her. The other agreed to accept cash for keys to get out so he didn’t have to evict her, and she’ll be out tomorrow.”

Jones looked thoughtful. “Is this place a dump? Because I’ve been doing the roommate thing for a while because I’m saving for a downpayment for a house, but I don’t want to go from one bad situation to a worse one.”

Buck pulled up the last listing he’d saved screenshots of. “There are no current listings up for it, but this was from way back when. He pretty much only rents on referral now.”

Jones frowned as he looked at the images. “Oh, shit. This is that big ass place at the end of Woodburn, isn’t it? It’s like all lawyers and medical school students and shit.”

“Well, yes and no. Law students, a couple of nursing students, some med students, some young professionals, a firefighter…”

Jones handed back the phone. “Hell yeah, I’m interested. And don’t even ask those jerks on B. Let me ask DeKay.”

“DeKay?” Buck echoed, astonished.

“Yeah, his mom has this huge house with a guest cottage he lives in so he can save money, but it’s like ninety minutes away, so he’s been keeping an eye out for a good room to rent so he can live closer, especially when we have shifts a day apart.”

Buck fired off a text to Will.

Buck: Might have both rooms filled with guys on shift. Marcus DeKay and Devon Jones. Want me to pursue further?

Will: YES. Haven’t even had time to focus on anything besides cleaning up this mess. Angelica got out and arranged for a civil standby with the local police so she could get her stuff. I told her I won’t pursue her in court for breaking the lease if she surrenders keys and signs the paperwork. If you ever see her around here, call the cops.

Buck: She’s not going to have to pay for any of those damages??

Will: I never said THAT! She’s getting sued for all the damages. She’s just not getting sued for breaking her lease. That said, give my prospective tenants my phone number. Actually tell DeKay that he KNOWS me. Or rather, our parents knew each other and we’ve met in passing. If you’re comfortable with them living here, they’re in.

Buck: Will do. Doing the second half of my shift at Harbor so I’m headed there now.

Will: Don’t jump out of any helicopters.

Buck: No promises.

He looked up at Jones. “Both rooms are still available. I’m forwarding you the contact number for the landlord. Though Will says he knows DeKay already. Or, rather, their parents knew one another.”

“Small world LA is sometimes.”

Buck hesitated. “Look, one thing… I really don’t like my actual personal life to come to the station.”

Jones grinned. “Good. Then we’re in agreement, because if you, me, and DeKay wind up living under the same roof, we are definitely going to have to agree that what happens at home, stays at home.”

“Absolutely no issues on my end. Could be harder for you, though.”

Jones gave him a cocky grin. “I promise you, however many people you’re banging in a night just isn’t that interesting.”

Buck bit his lip and unlocked his phone, turning around the picture he’d brought up to show Jones. “There are things I don’t talk about at work, so no one here knows about her.”

Jones blinked at the screen.

“You’ll have to decide if you can keep whatever you find out between us.”

Next thing Buck knew, Jones had Buck’s gear bag in hand and was escorting him out to the parking lot, looking around in confusion. “Where’s your Jeep?” Buck pointed to the new SUV, and Jones marched over to it, practically dragging Buck along with him.

Jones stared at him for several moments. “You have a kid?”

“I’m in the midst of the adoption process.”

“I’m not going to spill your secrets, man, but you are keeping this to yourself because…?”

“I don’t know if the department would have an issue with it, and I don’t even know how to ask.”

“Why in the world would the department have an issue with you adopting—” He cut himself off and narrowed his eyes. “Was she a rescue?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Buck nodded tightly, not sure why he was trusting Jones when he hadn’t trusted Bobby or Hen.

“And I can honestly say I have no fucking idea if they’d have a problem with it. Well! We’ll just have to keep it secret, then. Maybe in a few weeks, I’ll figure out some subtle way to ask Calley a hypothetical about my future adoption plans.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t worry; I can be sneaky as fuck when I need to be. Now, get over to Harbor while I call my new landlord.”

“Jones. No one knows.”

“Yeah, I got that. Not sure why you told me.”

“Me either.”

“I exude trustworthiness,” Jones said with a wink. “But I promise, I’ve got your back on this one. Not gonna let anything happen to your kid, not even departmental disapproval. Now, run along to Harbor and try not to break anything.”

Chapter Three

Buck entered the main door for LAFD Air Operations, casually dubbed Harbor Station, and a guy with short blond hair immediately called out, “Can I help you?”

“Looking for Captain Brooks?”

Blond guy gestured around a corner. “Just went into his office. You the floater?”

“Ah, no. They couldn’t get a float for the shift. Taking a half shift from my regular duty station.”

“Fair enough. As long as you can do the job. Check in with Aidan, and we’ll get you a tour.”

Buck went down the short hall to the open door and knocked on the frame. “Captain Brooks?”

The man was on the young side for a captain in the LAFD, but Buck figured specialty operations took a different type of skillset and probably meant seniority wasn’t the only thing that kept you in the captain’s chair.

“You Buckley?”

“Yes, sir.”

He waved the honorific away. “Just Aidan will do. So, they sent me a probationary firefighter, which has never happened to me before at air ops, and yet you have more SAR qualifications than all but one guy on my whole shift. How’s that happen?”

“I worked SAR in Colorado and in New Mexico with FEMA for a while before joining the LAFD. There was a mix-up about where I was trained, so my certifications were not entered in the system.”

“Sounds like typical bureaucracy.” He leaned back in his chair. “The hope is always that we don’t have reason to drop someone in a harness out of a helicopter, but it’s always better to be staffed for it and not need to, than need to and not have anyone certified for such a thing. Have you ever done aerial rescue?”

“From a helicopter? No. From a stationary aerial point, yes. We’d have a helicopter take us to a remote location, and we drop down to a cliff face where we secure our stationary points and then do the rescue from the cliffs using A-frames, multi-track lines, or whatever was appropriate to the conditions. But the rescue wasn’t from the helicopter itself.”

Brooks’s eyes were narrowed. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Because if you can take an aerial drop from a helicopter to work fixed lines on a cliff, I don’t think we’re going to have a problem. Still, we’ll talk you through anything you need to know. And book any aerial rescue courses that are missing in your lineup so you’re fully ready for all air operations in the future.”

“Will do.”

“Let me introduce you to the rest of the team. We’re on deck for a variety of SAR operations, which is our primary task, and secondary would be firefighter operations. At a minimum, it’d be you, the pilot, and the medic going out for all rescues, but we prefer four-person teams in the bird for aerial operations. The only time you wouldn’t go out with Mullens is if there’s a simultaneous, high-priority ground rescue.

“Let me introduce you to the pilot first, as he’ll have tactical command in the field.” They exited the small warren of offices to the wide-open bay where everyone was milling around, and he waved several people over. One person lagged behind, obviously finishing up loading some gear. “Tommy Kinard, firefighter, pilot, and in command once he’s out of my sight. Though he likes to forget that I’m still in charge when he’s on the ground.”

Kinard grinned and held out a hand. “I’m not that bad. Nice to meet you.”

“Evan Buckley. Everyone calls me Buck. Your name is familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

“Well, I am famous,” Kinard said with a grin. “What station are you from?”

Brooks grinned. “Buckley is from the 118, Tommy. Your old stomping grounds.”

Kinard’s expression went a little stiff. “Ah. How’s Howie doing?”

It took Buck a few seconds to parse “Howie” and figure out he meant Chim. “He’s okay as he can be. That he’s awake and talking is a miracle.”

“True that.”

“You could call Hen, and I’m sure she’ll have more info.”

Brooks gestured to the next person. “Gloria Glenn, medic. Obviously, we call her GG, even though she occasionally pretends she prefers we call her Gloria.”

She held out her hand. “Gloria is fine. If I like you, you can call me GG. Obviously, I can’t stand these losers.” She was of average height with a slender build, but something about her made him think she could break him in half.

“Buck.” He was pretty sure “GG” was going to be stuck in his brain.

“Mullens, get over here!” Brooks yelled, spurring the blond who’d talked to him when he first entered the building into finishing his task at impressive speed and finally jogging over. “And our other rescue asset, Fabio Mullens.”

“Fabio, is it?” Buck said with a smile.

“Mullens is fine,” the guy about Buck’s age muttered with an eye roll.

Buck chuckled. “I’m Buck. Nice to meet you.”

“All right. I’ve done my duty in introducing you children; I expect you to play nicely and share your cookies with one another. I have actual work to do now. We might need Buck back someday, so don’t burn him out! And, Kinard! You’re responsible for making sure he has the right gear before you get sent out. If someone is mean to the probie and he doesn’t want to come back, you’ll be answering to me!”

~*~

Buck frowned as he watched Mullens prep his rope.

“You look like someone deeply offended you,” Kinard murmured from over his shoulder, a little closer than Buck was used to from someone he’d just met, but he’d heard the guy coming, so he didn’t flinch.

Instead, he just nodded. “I am deeply offended,” he returned equally softly. “Who the fuck taught him to coil a rope?”

Kinard burst out laughing and stepped around Buck to holler at Mullens. “Even the probie thinks your rope coil is pure dumbassery.”

Mullens shot Buck a betrayed look.

Buck shrugged. “What? I wouldn’t use a backpack coil even if I were using an actual backpack. I’ve never known any actual climber to use them either. Everyone with an ounce of sense uses butterfly coils. You just need to be careful to lay the rope down with the head of the coil facing towards the belayer so you don’t pull the stacked coils through each other in a way that would cause one loop to cinch and short rope your leader.”

“Told you!” Brooks called as he rounded the corner into the apparatus bay. He stopped next to Buck. “As long as it’s a department-accepted variation, I let ‘em be dumbasses about shit until they learn.”

“Ah. Should I have kept quiet?”

Brooks laughed. “I gather you couldn’t have kept that expression off your face. You must have done some serious climbing…?”

Buck nodded. “I got into SAR because I pulled someone down off a mountain they shouldn’t have been on in the first place, and I met the SAR team that was on their way up to get him. The captain said since I already knew how to climb and could keep a clear head under pressure, I had half the battle already, so he’d take me on.”

“Sounds like a good method of recruiting. It took me a few minutes to parse what went wrong with your file, and I had to call and make sure I understood from your station lieutenant. You did most of your training in FEMA-approved courses, but someone at the academy decided to disqualify all your certifications right before placement and send you to a light brigade?”

“That’s what was explained to me, yes. I assumed I was starting over on all those classes, and just coming in with a basic Rope Rescue Technician cert from the Academy, and I was frustrated.”

“California is a pain in the butt state to transfer into from a SAR perspective since most departments don’t take out-of-state certifications, which is foolish on our part with how difficult it’s becoming to recruit certain specialties. Some regions and even down to the department are changing their own rules because it’s become too hard to get qualified people, but the LAFD is lagging in that area. Regardless, your certs were always good, so that we had a highly trained SAR asset for months now out there prying open car doors is frustrating.”

“And learning how to use a winch,” Buck said with a grin.

Brooks groaned. “I swear by all that’s holy, I’m having words with Alonzo about dealing with that little jerk at the Academy, because I’m pretty sure I know exactly who it was. McGill. Anyway, you might want to start thinking if you want to stay at the 118 or not.”

Buck frowned. “Why?”

“Honestly, you never should have been offered that station. They should have sent you to 56 or here or any of the SAR Bureaus, even if we don’t routinely take probies. If you wanted to be in a similar geographic area, here is a little bit out, but the 115 or 56 isn’t too far from where you are now. But if you want a big challenge, Valley Bureau is huge, and they have the most SAR calls by far, which is why your station gets tapped to take a few SAR calls as backup for Valley at times, rather than your own Bureau.”

“I was originally slated for the 115, but my assignment was changed a few days before I graduated, and I was told to report to the 118 instead.”

“Without meeting the captain?”

Buck shook his head.

“Huh.” Brooks looked thoughtful. “I’m sure someone will poke into why you were moved from an appropriate station to an inappropriate one at the last minute, though it could be as simple as the person who decided you couldn’t work SAR pulled you from a SAR Bureau and sent you to a light brigade.”

“It feels like a lot of fuss for no reason.”

“It’s really not for no reason. We fight like cats and dogs for SAR assets to keep the teams rounded out, and if we can get a good few extra assets in the department, they’ll expand a station like the 118 to a task force instead of a light brigade to better manage the call flow. As the demand for actual firefighting lessens, the focus is on specialty work, and the department is starting to lag in some areas. It already hurts us that we’re not taking all the certifications we can, but to disqualify someone with transferrable certs is…. Honestly, I’d have that guy rolling hoses for a month.

“Additionally, several of us have lobbied for the flagging of candidates with certifications that were not transferrable so we’d know who had training that just wasn’t allowed by our dumb bureaucracy. That way, we’d know which assets to focus on getting through department-funded training. Let’s say your certs weren’t actually transferrable. The amount of training you have for SAR tells me all I need to know about wanting someone like you in my station. I’d evaluate you and fast-track you into department-funded training as fast as possible for the aerial courses we need here the most urgently.”

“We usually fund our own training.”

“The department can fund training, and every station has a budget for it for certain cases. Certainly, if I had a SARTECH III who couldn’t transfer their certs, I’d use my budget on every course they needed for aerial and water classes to get them functional for our station as fast as possible.”

“Huh. I guess I hadn’t considered the overall impact of the mistakes this guy had made.”

Brooks grinned and clapped Buck on the shoulder. “That’s why they pay me teeny tiny percentages more than you.”

Buck laughed and let himself be nudged over toward Mullens.

“Go make him feel better about his sad rope coil choices.”

Wandering over, Buck sat at the table. “Listen, Fabio…”

Mullens groaned, and Kinard started laughing.

After a bit, Mullens’ speed at butterfly coils had picked up, so he wandered away, leaving Buck at the table with just Kinard. Glenn was in the medical supply cabinet doing inventory.

“I called and talked to Hen while you and GG were working together,” Kinard offered.

Buck nodded.

“I think she and I wound up clearing the air more than talking about Howie, but it was good to catch up. She said he’s doing better than anyone could have predicted, all things considered.”

“I gather you were closer to Chim?”

“That nickname.” Kinard laughed. “Yeah. I wasn’t close with him at first either. It was hard to break the ice with new people back then. Captain Gerrard was something else. I hear they’ve got him doing some bureaucratic crap at HQ, but I’m not sure why they didn’t fire him after the number of complaints about the way he treated Hen, and before that Howie. Well, between the two was Casey. I filed more than one complaint about Casey.”

“Were you one of the complainers about Hen?”

After a beat, Kinard nodded. “None of us told her who had lodged complaints, and she never asked, but he was as ass with her. Hazing was the order of the day with Gerrard. More than usual, though I cut my teeth at the 118, so I had no idea that level of hazing wasn’t the norm. Really, no one was spared, but he was harder on Howie and Hen than many of the other probies over the years. Though, not the worst by far.”

“Because of…?”

“I think eventually Howie thought it had something to do with race, though I never got the vibe Gerrard cared about that as much as his ideal of what a firefighter should be. Howie was too small in his mind. Gerrard had very fixed ideas about what it took to do the job—what the standard was. In his mind, you needed to be male, of a certain physical size and strength, and most certainly heterosexual. Though it took longer to parse the last one than the others because we had to have a man be openly gay in the station, who had every other qualification, and see how Gerrard reacted for me to understand that Gerrard would have an issue with it. Gerrard certainly could be racist, but it was going to manifest in ways other than him disallowing someone from doing the core functions of the job.

“In any case, it’s not like hazing probies is unusual in fire stations—making them clean extra, or roll hoses that were already rolled, or do all the chores, or whatever other dumb stuff crosses the captain’s mind—but they still need to learn how to do the job safely. For a long time, I had a bigger problem with how Howie was treated than Hen. Hell, I still do. Though, again, I don’t know what Gerrard said to her directly.

“Hen rolled on the truck with us from the jump. Howie was left behind at the station as man behind for weeks. It went on forever. I was sure he was going to quit before Gerrard would relent and let him actually be a firefighter. It was Eli, the head paramedic, who stepped in and had Howie shadow him as a paramedic that got him out of the station finally.”

“Were you and Chim friends?”

“Not for a long time. I wasn’t interested in being friends with another probie that probably wouldn’t make it in my mind. I’d been down that path before. There was another probie during my probationary period, which is unusual, and he didn’t make it. We were tight, but he quit. Then there was another right after. He didn’t make it either. Howie tried to be my friend, though. Then he saved my life because what he was doing while he was stuck as man behind for months was drilling on fire science, and he caught something the rest of us missed.

“Anyway, he endeared himself to all of us, even Gerrard to some degree. It probably helped that he was on the paramedic track by then, so Gerrard didn’t have to confront his deep bias about ‘ideal firefighters’ head-on.

“But then Hen came on, and she got the full probie treatment. To me, it never seemed any different from anyone else. Except she did roll with the truck from the beginning. In a weird way, she seemed to get special treatment, but we all got that none of it was her doing. Howie tried connecting with her from the day she joined to help spare her some of the isolation he experienced, but she obviously wasn’t interested in it, so none of the rest of us bothered to reach out as well.”

“Was Chim hazing her too?”

Kinard shrugged. “Sure. When we dumped our gear for the probie to clean, he dumped his on her too. But in some ways, the way the probie was treated was Gerrard’s choice, and everyone fell in line.”

Buck frowned. “I’m not saying being hazed or isolated feels good, but no one ever died from cleaning gear, and cleaning the station is definitely a staple of the probationary period. I don’t see the point in cleaning something that’s already clean; that seems petty and a waste of the person’s training time but, otherwise, it’s not a big deal. Besides, there’s always plenty of real things that need cleaning around the station. Making shit up seems stupid.”

“Yeah, well, it certainly became obvious to us that there was something being said by Gerrard to her directly that was beyond what any of the rest of us knew. Howie kept trying to reach out, but she kept ignoring him. I ignored it all because I assumed she was leaving. Eventually, he said some stuff in front of us about women firefighters and department quotas that we were able to pass on in reports to HR.

“She was tenacious as hell, though. She got right in everyone’s face. Her accusations pissed off some of the guys to the point of alienating them for all time, but I just didn’t care. If Gerrard did something actionable in front of me, I’d report it. If he didn’t, she could just keep on doing what she was doing.” He smiled, and there was something odd about it.

“You’re not saying something. Whatever it is, you can say it,” Buck encouraged.

“It just struck me as I had my conversation with her, and as I think back on it now, that she came into the station expecting to be fully accepted from the beginning, and I promise no one ever is accepted from day one. The shift gave Nash hell for weeks, fully betting he’d be going back to Minnesota. Hen ran the book on that. Yet Hen always assumed her treatment was different from everyone else’s. And I don’t know what Gerrard said to her specifically, so I can only take her at face value that he was a horror show to her in private, but the rest of the shift wasn’t any different with her than any other new person in the time I’d been with the 118.

“Like I said, other than whatever went on between her and Gerrard directly and then those statements he made about department quotas about hiring women, I always thought Howie not being able to work at all was the worst between the two, and Howie never took the approach that the whole shift were assholes. Hen, however, has always had the mentality that the entire shift was misogynistic, homophobic, racists—presumably because Gerrard was.”

“Did you say any of this to her?”

“More or less. I have no idea why I’m telling you any of this. Our dubious connection through the 118 shouldn’t account for it.”

Buck smiled. “I used to be a bartender. I’m told it’s a vibe. But I don’t mind listening while we sit here and safety check this stupidly large bin of carabiners.”

“The bartender vibe is definitely strong with you.” Kinard smiled. “She said something about us clearing the air, and I said sure, and she mentioned my participation in her treatment. I said, from my perspective, she hadn’t been hazed any worse than any other person I’d seen come through the 118, and I’d actually seen several that had it worse. Don’t even get me started on Casey’s brief two weeks at the station. He was the gay firefighter.

“Anyway, she went quiet, and I asked her to let me know what anyone other than Gerrard did that was beyond the typical probie hazing bullshit. To please let me know how she was treated differently, and that I had no insight into what her interactions with Gerrard were, except for a couple of specific incidents towards the end of Gerrard’s tenure, and I documented and reported those to HR immediately.

“Then I said from the outside perspective, I could think of several probies who’d had it worse than her, and that I only knew there was a major issue because Gerrard didn’t want a woman on his team. And easily half the captains in the LAFD didn’t either at that time, so just by rolling the dice, she had a fifty percent chance of hitting the same problem at another station.

“At the end, I said that as I’d moved further on in my career, the less patience I had for the way probies are usually treated at the LAFD, but it didn’t change that she wasn’t treated any differently by the majority of the shift, regardless of what she perceived. And that if we needed to get apologies from the people who made us clean dirty boots as probies in order to move on or feel complete or something, we were going to have a long row to hoe in life.

“She asked me if I was saying with a straight face that none of those guys were sexists, and I asked her how I could possibly know that. I couldn’t say for sure whether there were sexist assholes on the shift besides Gerrard because I’m not a mind reader, but that her guilt-by-association thing was tiresome when the worst thing anyone on shift did to her was things I’ve seen her do to probies. And that at least eight people on shift filed complaints with HR on her behalf, and what more did she want when everyone saw her slapping down Howie’s offers of friendship from day one? That those who were inclined to reach out to support her changed their minds because of how she treated the friendliest guy on shift. Did she expect us all to quit in protest?”

“It’s a no-win situation for anyone,” Buck offered. “But it sounds a little like Hen had a chip on her shoulder with the team because of the things Gerrard was saying, or maybe her own expectations from prior work experience. Who knows for sure. Interestingly, it sounds like Chim was the opposite.” It put things in an interesting perspective for him because he’d say the two were almost opposite now.

“Howie just wanted to be liked, be part of the team, and be a firefighter. I think the job broke his heart, and I honestly didn’t think he’d make it after his brother died on the job.”

Buck just nodded, filing away his surprise. “He and Hen are tight now. Like an unbreakable bond.”

“Yeah. Makes sense. There’s very little left of the team Gerrard put together. Nash arranged transfers first for those who couldn’t adjust to his leadership style. Those of us who just needed better opportunities, he helped find better situations later on.”

“You?”

Kinard pursed his lips and nodded. “I just…I was stifled at the 118 and could never see a way to fix it.”

Making an intuitive leap, Buck asked, “Because there were things you felt you couldn’t tell people?”

Kinard shot him a sharp look.

Buck shrugged. “I understand feeling like you’ve grown into a role or way people see you and then there’s no way to break out of it. That you can’t tell people something about yourself.” He tossed away a damaged carabiner into a bin for metal recycling. “It’s hard to contemplate change no matter what, but trying to change a dozen relationships might be harder than just creating new ones.”

Kinard frowned. “Yeah. Something like that.” He gave Buck a contemplative look. “You figured out what I didn’t—”

“No, but I have a couple of guesses. I think you’ve dropped a few clues. But it could be anything, really. There are all kinds of things people don’t want to tell their coworkers. And under a boss as toxic as Gerrard, you could have been a master quilter and had to hide it for fear of what he’d do with the knowledge of that hobby. Then once he was gone, maybe letting your real self be known was just too hard.”

Kinard’s expressions shifted to open amusement. “Master quilter?”

“I would not have used that example if I didn’t— You know what. Hold on.” Buck pulled out his phone and pulled up a quick Google search. He showed Kinard the page.

“Best in Show 2017, Category: Still Life, 2017 Master Quilter, Wiktor Stevens. Are you freaking kidding me?”

“Met him when I was bartending in Peru,” Buck said as he tucked his phone away. “Day trader, expected to have the typical power broker hobbies. I’m not even sure what that means, but probably women, fast cars, and booze. He felt like he couldn’t just say ‘my whole passion is quilting’ and have his people accept him, so he chose to change his environment in order to be himself.”

Kinard stared. “I’m gay. Even though the team there would have accepted me, I just couldn’t figure out how to be who I wanted to be. I wanted to change and not have to beg not to be reminded constantly of the repressed man hiding from homophobia that I’d been taught to be my whole life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with starting over and just being who you want to be.” Buck smiled sadly. “It’s fucking hard when people won’t let you change or are constantly reminding you of who you used to be.”

“Maybe that’s what I need to tell Hen.”

“You don’t owe her that,” Buck countered.

“True, but I think maybe she has the wrong impression about why I left.”

“I still don’t think you owe her that, but if you want to reconnect with the better parts of your past at the 118 and be your authentic self, go for it.”

“And you?” Kinard smiled. “What are you trying to be?”

Buck’s smile became a little stiff.

“Sorry. You don’t have to say.”

“It’s complicated, and I’m not trying to be…” He blew out a breath. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of stuff. Some screw ups I made early on that a few people will not let go.”

“Mind if I ask what?”

Buck rolled his eyes. “We had a truck offline for maintenance, and I was sent out with it on a maintenance run, and I stopped for a hookup on the way back.”

Kinard snorted and then burst out laughing. “Sorry for laughing, but you wouldn’t be the first, and you sure as hell won’t be the last.”

“And I got fired over it.”

“Nash fired you over getting laid on the job? Seriously? Some captains are that uptight, I guess, but most of them would just give you a lecture or tell you not to get caught next time. Some of them are too busy getting laid in their office to notice.”

Buck waved it away. “I screwed up, we worked it out, but it’s never-ending reminders. And the comments about my sex life sometimes are bordering on sexual harassment. I don’t want to be that guy—the one bitching to HR about people’s inappropriate comments—but I don’t need everyone all up in my business telling me to take relationships more seriously or that I should value myself more or whatever they think I need.”

“Wow. Okay, that kind of moralizing was not the station’s tone when I was there.”

Buck shook his head. “It’s not everyone. I’ve realized recently that I’ve been really isolated since I’ve been at the station working on the captain’s squad, and I haven’t gotten to know the whole shift very well. But I don’t need the disapproving looks or reminders to focus on the job when some girl, or sometimes even guy, comes up to me at an accident scene and sticks their phone number in my pocket. It’s not like I asked for that.”

GG slid into the seat next to Kinard and started refreshing the backup med kit for the SAR truck and the helicopter. “What are we talking about?”

“Apparently, the 118 have become very puritanical since I left.”

GG’s nose scrunched up. “Gross.”

“Someone’s giving Buckley a hard time about people giving him their numbers, telling him to keep focused on the job.”

“Since when do we control how the public reacts to our amazing hotness?” GG said, gesturing to herself. She was definitely well put together—athletic build, auburn hair in two tight braids, big green eyes, and Buck estimated she was probably in her early-to-mid thirties.

Buck grinned.

She pointed at him. “You’re a whole lot of hot, so you must get hit on all the time. I’d be ready to strangle someone if I were getting preached at for being hit on.”

Shrugging, Buck replied. “I’ve been rather free with my affections in the past, and most people who know me are aware of that, but I don’t like having it flung in my face like it’s a character flaw.”

“I say again. Gross.”

“Anything else?” Kinard asked.

“Else?” GG asked.

“We were just talking about why sometimes the box we’re in starts to not fit so well because people won’t let you change. Buckley’s having a hard time with the 118 box for at least the puritanical reasons.”

Buck wanted to sigh, because none of that quite got conveyed right, but it wasn’t really worth the clarification. “I don’t know. I just did some things I wasn’t supposed to, and it’s eventually going to come out. I’m pretty sure Bobby won’t approve, and I just don’t want to deal with it.”

GG looked between Buck and Kinard. “He always this vague?”

Kinard shrugged. “So far.”

Buck chuckled. “Bobby has this rule about getting emotionally involved in the rescues, right? Like, leave it at the door of the hospital. Or finish up at the scene and walk away. Whatever it is, you don’t look back. And I’ve disagreed with him very openly about some rescues, and then I keep breaking the rules about getting emotionally involved with the rescue or the aftermath. It keeps becoming a problem.”

GG leaned back and nodded. “Pure Search and Rescue is weirdly easier, though sometimes one backs up on you and you just can’t let a rescue go, but mostly we’re so focused on finding and then extracting, that afterward, we just hand off to medical and move on. We don’t usually spend all this time trying to keep a patient alive. Sometimes we’re surprised by what we get, but we don’t deal with burn victims and abused kids and the horrors that the average firefighter has to deal with at a moment’s notice.

“I can understand why a captain would try to teach their rookies to detach from a rescue or a scene when it’s over. Walk away and move on because the job will eat you alive if you don’t. However, a good captain would also recognize that at the same time you’re saying, ‘this is what we aspire to,’ you also have to say, ‘but there are going to be times when you won’t be able to let go. Let’s work on what to do when that happens.’

“It’s unreasonable to expect people doing what we do to be automatons, and you have to give people like you and me and even dickheads like Tommy the skills to handle their emotions when it gets to be too much.” She gave him a piercing look. “Give me one example of a time you and Nash had trouble over you not letting go.”

“The kid who let go during that roller coaster rescue.”

Both Kinard and GG winced. “Yeah.” GG patted his hand. “That was you up there?”

Buck nodded. “He wouldn’t take my hand, and he deliberately let go.”

“Some people do not want to be saved, and that’s one of the hardest lessons.”

“I insisted on going to his funeral, and Bobby wasn’t really pleased with my inability to let go.”

“What’d he do?”

“He was nice about it overall. Gave me a card and said I could go to therapy on my own or it would become department-mandated.”

“I guess that’s not the worst response,” GG conceded, though she didn’t really look pleased.

Buck really didn’t want to go down that path, so he made a bad pivot. “I guess the harder time was when we had that baby where the mother was underage and gave birth in her room, then she pushed the baby down a standpipe on the roof.”

“Ugh,” GG exclaimed. “You guys have shitty rescues.”

“I heard about that,” Kinard muttered. “Didn’t realize it was your rescue.”

“Yeah, this month has been rough.”

“This month?” GG asked.

“Yeah, the roller coaster and the baby in the pipe were both this month.”

“Jesus. Okay, what issue did Nash have with that situation?”

“I ran the baby down to the ambulance—”

“She survived?” GG interjected.

“Oh, yeah. She’s doing fine.”

Kinard gave him a curious look.

Buck shrugged. “Like I said, I have a hard time letting go. Anyway, I ran her down, and we were getting ready to leave when they showed up with the mother. I guess Sergeant Grant had figured out where she was, and she needed to go to the hospital as well. The sergeant demanded that we transport them in the same ambulance.

“Hen and Sergeant Grant are good friends, so she was going to do what Grant requested. Chim does what Hen wants, basically, and Bobby wasn’t protesting. I said we couldn’t transport the victim with the perpetrator, per department policy.”

GG’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, you weren’t wrong.”

“No, but literally no one thought I was right, either. And I’m pretty sure Bobby is convinced I can’t be objective about shit anymore. I don’t know.”

GG patted his hand. “And the fact that you know how that baby is doing is telling. I’m sure you can’t talk to your coworkers about it, especially if you’ve already been chewed out about being overly emotional about the subject, and challenging your boss publicly, even if you were in the right. But let me say this. If I’d had to cut a baby who’d been flushed away out of a wall, I’d damn well be following up on how she was doing. In fact, the next time you get an update, feel free to text me. I’ll be inviting myself to airdrop you my contact card. I could have gone my whole life without knowing someone had done such a thing. Christ, what is wrong with people?”

Buck smiled. “I think I like you.”

“I think you’re a pretty tolerable conversationalist, but I’m going to wait to see how you get my patients in the bird before I decide if I really like you,” she said with a wink.

“Fair.”

Mullens dropped down at the table. “What’s the oh-so serious topic of conversation?”

“People who try to murder their babies,” GG deadpanned.

Mullens grimaced.

“Actually,” Kinard said, “we were talking about how it can be hard to stay in a spot where people won’t let you change.”

“Oh.” Mullens stared at the table, fidgeting with a bit of frayed rope that Kinard had cut off, deeming the rest usable.

Buck shot Kinard an inquisitive look.

“Mullens injured his arm at the Academy. Didn’t seem to be a problem at first—he graduated and everything, but he got to his probationary assignment and suddenly developed a problem with being a klutz. Dropped stuff all the time.”

“Nerve damage?” Buck guessed.

Mullens nodded. “I’d actually messed up something in my neck, and it had been missed in my evaluation after the injury. I had to take a week or so off work to have some injections in my neck and stuff, and then I needed some PT to retrain the muscles in my arm. Everything went back to normal from a functionality perspective. Still, after a few months of being labeled the station screw-up—not to be trusted with anything beyond a firehose—no one was willing to let me get past it.

“I’d go to rescue courses and do fine, but no one would trust me with anything. I did an OT shift with a SAR Bureau, and Brooks saw me work. Said he had a permanent opening at Harbor if I was interested. It shouldn’t have even been a difficult decision, but I still had to think about it.” Mullens gave a wry laugh. “I liked everyone I worked with, except I wasn’t really working. Aidan pointed out that the job isn’t a social club, and that I needed to figure out what I wanted for my career.

“I requested a transfer the next day.” He fist-bumped GG. “I think if it’s a good station, with good leadership, you’ll always find people to get along with, and the true friends you make along the way will hopefully remain your friends, but, yeah, Tommy’s right. Sometimes people won’t allow you to change. Years gone by, and they’ll still be assuming you’re going to drop a coupling if they trust you with it.” He shook his head.

Buck nodded.

Mullens gave him a look. “You too?”

“I’m very free with my affections.”

Mullens frowned, as it seemed like it took him time to parse that. “So?”

“The 118 has apparently picked up a puritanical streak since I was assigned there,” Kinard added.

“Ew.” Mullens made a face. “Note to self, don’t go to the 118. Besides, I’m pretty free with my affections too. Hell, I’d sell them if I could get away with it.”

Buck burst out laughing. “I like the self-awareness. So, I’m pretty sure Mullens is English or thereabouts. Why Fabio…? Were your parents trying to make high school difficult for you?”

Mullens rolled his eyes. “Buck Buckley doesn’t have room to talk.”

Buck laughed again. “Evan Buckley. There were three other Evans in my academy class. Buck was my compromise—always choose your own nickname if you have the opportunity. And it stuck.”

“Oh.” Mullens made a face. “My mother is Italian. Fabio was her grandfather’s name.”

“Being named after someone is a rough gig. It’s always something to live up to.”

“True.”

“What’s your middle name, squirt?” GG asked.

Mullens slouched down in his chair. “Romeo.”

Buck’s brows shot up, and he pressed his lips into a thin line to keep from reacting.

Everyone else was basically doing the same thing.

“See?” Mullens said, hands spread wide. “My parents were sadists.”

“Well,” Kinard said dryly, “Fabio Romeo Mullens does sound like you got lost on the way to the Colosseum and picked up the wrong last name, and Romeo isn’t a much easier name to deal with today than Fabio.”

“I like Rome, though,” GG said.

“Oh.” Mullens paused. “Rome is interesting.”

“You could try it out,” Buck said. “But it matters what you’re comfortable with because it’s your name.”

“Honestly, I like Rome.”

“Rome it is, then. Though it could be the reason you’re not comfortable with Fabio is because you never learned to be comfortable with it.”

Rome cocked his head to the side. “Do you like being called Buck?”

“Hm. So, in a for-real way that borders on oversharing, my parents didn’t really have much use for me, so while I like my given name fine, I don’t like it when people say my name in disapproving or disdainful ways. So, since I can’t make people only say my name with a positive inflection, it’s easier for me to just go by Buck.”

“I don’t want to be intrusive or anything, but are you sure they felt that way?”

Everyone looked like they wanted to know the answer, so Buck replied. “I was a savior sibling, and my bone marrow failed to do the job it was designed to do. The son they idolized died, and I was the lifelong reminder.”

GG made a face. “Your parents don’t live in LA, do they?”

Buck shook his head. “Pennsylvania. Why?”

“I’d have to have a conflict of interest filed in my employee record in the event they ever needed saving. I wouldn’t be able to objectively complete my duties.”

“Preach,” Tommy said, getting to his feet with the bag of carabiners to go into the supply cabinets. “The helicopter would suddenly be offline for maintenance.”

Buck was oddly touched by the bloodthirsty sentiment. “That’s sort of sweet.”

“That’s us. Sweet.” GG pointed at him. “I hate knowing things about people I’m rescuing because it sucks having to take care of wretched people who’d be better off dropped in an ocean. I’m just glad your parents are three thousand miles away.”

“Two-thousand, six-hundred and twenty.”

GG’s eyebrows shot up. “Right. I sincerely hope you have their number blocked.”

“The family you make is the best family, right?”

“Amen, brother. Now, on your feet. Might as well drill you since it’s a slow shift so far.”

An hour later, the slow shift went right out the window when they were called in to act as air support for a plane that crashed right off the coast.

Just before Buck got too busy to pay attention to anything but the next rescue, he heard over comms that the 118 was primary and Bobby was the incident commander. Tommy shot him a look, but then they both got to work and didn’t let it affect their job. Buck wondered how the 118 wound up the primary on a rescue at the freaking ocean since their station was much further inland. There were many stations between the 118 and Dockweiler Beach.

It must be a busy night for firefighters in LA—and getting busier by the minute.

Chapter Four

Buck sat on the bench in the locker room. He was wet, grimy, smelled a little like jet fuel, and in desperate need of a shower, but all he could focus on was the short video Elaine had sent of Charlie tucked up safe and sound in her bassinet, sleeping peacefully.

He smiled and touched her face on the screen, freezing the video into a still image.

Footsteps let him know someone was approaching, so he closed the app and locked his phone.

“Something interesting?” Tommy asked as he sat beside Buck, still in his flight suit.

“Just a picture from a friend.”

“Good picture. First time you’ve smiled in hours.”

“Yeah. Rough night.”

Tommy nodded. “You did good, though. Even GG was impressed.”

“Thanks.” Buck rubbed his forehead.

“Weird working the scene with the 118 there too?”

“Yes, but also no. It’s still the job. I know the guy who was filling in for me, and he’s good. The job gets done whether I’m there or not, right?”

“True.”

“I guess it helps to know the people who are filling in are all good at what they do, and it’s not like I have some god complex where I think people are going to die if I don’t show up for work.”

Tommy snorted. “It’s always good to keep your ego in check. Especially you squad boys.”

Buck rolled his eyes and nudged Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m not sure pilots get to lecture anyone about keeping their ego in check.”

“Probably fair.” Tommy nudged Buck back. “Hit the showers. You were the only one who had to get wet tonight. You managed to keep Rome higher on the ropes, controlling the basket, which was a good call. He’s not ready for an ocean rescue.”

Buck nodded and got to his feet just as Brooks appeared in the locker room doorway. “You’re headed for your four off, correct?”

“Yes.”

“The current Rope Rescue Techniques instructor at the academy broke their arm yesterday, toward the end of class. They’re getting a replacement from Santa Monica. RRT is taught on Wednesdays and Fridays, and the sub can’t start until Friday. You have some of the best qualifications on paper to teach that class, and after seeing you work in person, I feel comfortable recommending you to fill in on Wednesday if you’re willing. As I’m sure you know, Academy sessions are from seven to five. The other people who are well-qualified are on shift on Wednesday, and you happen not to be.”

“They’d let a probationary firefighter teach?” He fired off a text to Elaine, asking if she could take Charlie during the day on Wednesday. He’d normally say no because he needed the days with Charlie, but he had a rough start with Bobby in the LAFD, and he felt he needed to take opportunities to make better impressions with other captains and leaders in the department and get some better visibility.

“They’d let someone fully accredited SARTECH II and damn close to III who has done work with FEMA teach, yes.”

“Was it Vinnie Massey?”

Brooks’ eyebrows shot up. “It was.”

“Figures. He uses overhand figure-eight knots for his own line. There were multiple people in my class who told him those knots slip, so they’re not safe for abseiling, but he just does what he wants. Everyone shut up or risked getting kicked from the day’s session, but I’m not surprised he broke his arm.”

“Huh. I’ll report that to the chief and have them look into it. We don’t need someone teaching new recruits shitty techniques. Is that a yes or no on the Academy?”

“I’m just waiting for a yes or no on an appointment change for that day.” He got back an affirmative from Elaine. “Yeah, I can do it.”

Brooks double-tapped his fist on the edge of the doorjamb. “Good. I’ll confirm with HQ and text you the details. Great work today. Get showered and get out of here. I know our shift doesn’t end for another hour, but Tommy has exceeded his flight time, and you’ve exceeded your maximum drenching time.” Brooks started to leave, then hesitated. “Also, the door is open to you if you ever want a place here at Harbor.”

“Thank you, Captain. I really appreciate that.”

Brooks nodded and walked away.

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. “Shower. You’ll feel one hundred percent better after you’ve gotten the salt water off.”

“I don’t think I’ll feel better until I’m in my bed getting some much-needed sleep.”

“Fair enough.” Tommy hesitated as he was about to leave. “You want to get a beer sometime?”

“Coffee’s a lot more my speed these days.”

Tommy tilted his head. “These days?”

Buck shrugged. “If we manage to meet up for coffee, it could be that it all will make sense.”

“That’s mysterious.”

Buck laughed. “A little mystery is good for the soul.”

“I’ll be doing my paperwork, so stop by before you leave and I’ll give you my number, yeah? You let me know when’s a good time for coffee.”

“Sure thing. And thanks for the good talk today. It was interesting to get some insight into the old 118. And you should definitely go see Chim.”

“I am planning to visit Howie after shift today.”

Buck grimaced. “He’ll probably have a bit of a different perspective on me, so take it with a grain of salt, eh?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re the kind of firefighter Gerrard would have sacrificed his left nut for. Whether he wants to acknowledge it or not, Howie knows that, and he’s going to resent the easy acceptance you’d have had from a man he tried very hard to impress, yet never really succeeded in getting more than a grunt of acknowledgment from. Howie may know rationally that Gerrard is a terrible human being, but deep down it bothers him that Gerrard never acknowledged or truly accepted him.”

“The easy acceptance I didn’t have because I wasn’t a firefighter then, because I was, what? Fourteen? That’s ridiculous.”

“Good god. Way to make me feel old, probie.”

“You brought that on yourself.”

“I’m just letting you know what one source of Howie’s problem might be. But I’ll suss it out. And I don’t expect him to be objective, so don’t worry. I’m a whole grownup; I can make up my own mind about people. Be safe out there in the big, scary world, Buck.”

“You too, Tommy.” Something occurred to him. “Hey, Tommy?”

Tommy turned back, eyebrow raised.

“Do me a favor and find out if Rome’s arm injury was in Massey’s RRT course, would you? Massey’s the only person I can think of who advocates for a backpack coil, and though he doesn’t teach his shitty knotwork, because that would for sure get him fired, what if people were emulating him because they wanted to impress him…? Those overhand knots are fast, which is why amateurs gravitate to them, but they’re not safe.”

Tommy winced. “I’ll find out.”

“Tell Brooks, yeah? No one is going to listen to me about it.”

Tommy grinned. “Well, that’s probably true.”

Buck flipped him off.

~*~

He arrived back at his place, bone tired, desperately wanting to see his kid, take a nap, and forget about plane crashes, only to find a flurry of activity on the front lawn and two familiar faces from the 118 standing with Will, laughing and talking animatedly. There was an odd hodgepodge of luggage and what looked like repair debris on the grass.

Sighing, he got out of the SUV and stared at them. “I’m going back to Harbor.”

Jones snorted. “The hell you say. I’m not riding with the truck crew more than I have to, and Nash is in a snit when you’re out.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “What is going on?”

Jones spread his arms wide. “I’m moving in, bro!”

“There goes the neighborhood.”

Jones wiggled his eyebrows. “These two sort of know each other.” He gestured between DeKay and Will. “Their parents did at least, so they probably ate graham crackers in the same room when they were teeny little brats. I’m taking the least damaged room and helping repair the damage. DeKay is taking the other room, and we’ll get it fixed up so he can move in the night before our next shift in four days. But you gotta come clean to him about your roomie. And I want to meet her.” Jones bounced up on his toes.

Buck made a face, but since he really wanted to see Charlie, he gave in to what he wanted anyway and headed inside.

DeKay fell in step with him, offering softly. “Those two have been talking around and around something. Jones was subtle until we got here, but after the last forty minutes, I’m pretty sure you have a kid you’ve never mentioned to anyone.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Okay. I don’t have a problem keeping home stuff at home. Wilson is the one who thinks that if everyone isn’t being friends there’s something wrong.”

Buck inclined his head, able to recognize that people could want different types of work environments, and not always be able to get it. He sent a warning text to Elaine that he was bringing a couple of the new residents up with him.

They trooped up to the third floor, and Buck offered, “I moved up here when I got Charlie.”

“Got her?” DeKay repeated.

“I was asked to adopt her.”

“And she’s not yours?”

“Not biologically, no.” Buck hesitated after punching in the security code. It wasn’t far to his door. He gave a warning knock. “I’d never met her or her family before we rescued her.”

DeKay gave him a sharp look.

Buck entered and smiled at finding Elaine walking back and forth with Charlie. “How’s my girl?”

“Ah, look at that. She definitely knows your voice.”

Buck blinked. “Does she?”

Elaine nodded and crossed to Buck, handing over Charlie, who immediately pressed her face into his throat and seemed to relax. “It’s certainly well-documented that babies recognize the voices and scents of their mother, and possibly both parents, but I’m guessing you’re what she’s made that first imprint on. You must talk to her a lot.”

“Well, I’m the chatty sort.”

“Ah, look, she’s already asleep.” Elaine laughed. “Definitely a daddy’s girl. She’s been a bit fussy this morning. I think she was just missing you a bit, but all is right with her world now.” She gave him a nudge toward his room. “Maybe set up for skin-to-skin? I’m sure these firefighters have seen you with your shirt off.”

Jones and DeKay laughed, though DeKay’s laugh sounded a little brittle.

It didn’t take much to get Buck ready, but he had a minute alone with Charlie, who blinked blearily at him, easily tracking him with her big blue eyes, while he removed the cutest onesie with cupcakes on it, which he’d never seen before, and then settled her on his chest, covering her with a blanket.

“That was our first shift apart, sweet pea. We’ve got four days to acclimate ourselves to the idea of going through it again. Well, sort of. I have an Academy shift on Wednesday. But that will be for just a few hours—like a normal person’s workday. I’d already texted Elaine before I even came home, and she said she’s available for me to drop you off at her place for the day. Won’t that be fun? Baby’s first adventure.”

He returned to the living room and sat in the rocker. Elaine dropped a light kiss on his head and then one on Charlie. “See you boys on Wednesday. Everything worked out great, so don’t freak out about Charlie’s attachment to you. All babies are attached to their parents. That she’s forming parental attachment is a great thing because she was denied that bond at a really critical stage.” She waved at Jones and DeKay, who were sitting on the sofa. “Nice to meet you both!” Then she was gone.

DeKay leaned forward. “How old is she?”

“Almost a month,” Buck answered evenly.

“Born on January first?”

Buck nodded, gently rubbing a hand over Charlie’s back.

DeKay rubbed his hand over his face. “God, I hoped I was wrong.”

Jones looked confused. “What am I missing?”

Buck looked at Will. “You want to fill them in? I’m letting Charlie bask over here.”

Will relayed things from his point of view, even letting them hear the initial meeting with Marika. DeKay looked furious over the whole thing.

“Wait.” Jones held up his hands. “You’re saying this is the baby that got flushed down the drain, and truck squad had to cut out of the wall? She’s that baby?” His mouth was hanging open. “I assumed she hadn’t even survived long-term.” He winced. “I don’t mean that callously, Buck, you know I don’t, but what are the odds?”

“I kept wanting to check on her, and kept hearing Bobby say to leave it at the door, so I assumed she’d had major complications too. She still might, for that matter.”

Jones frowned.

“How did we get to here?” DeKay asked seriously. “Someone showing up at your door asking you to take their baby doesn’t mean you do. And you’re dead right that I don’t think Nash would be happy about this. I mean, who knows what’s really going on in that man’s head? He’s made damn sure none of us know him at all. His whole vibe is that he doesn’t have any tolerance for taking the job home or vice versa.”

“Well, he’s sure not going to hear about this from me,” Jones said sharply.

“Me either,” DeKay said. “Though it’s going to come out that you have a kid. You’re not going to be able to hide that forever. Hell, you should already be updating your department paperwork that you’re the guardian of a child, because you might get called away for emergencies. So, if he asks, you need to decide how you’re going to answer.”

Buck sighed. “I was really hoping not to have to reveal any of that until after I could legally change her name. Samaras might actually stick out to him. He has a weirdly good memory for some things.”

“I know someone in HR,” DeKay offered slowly. “You can certainly get your records updated by going directly through HR, but it’s all a matter of whether your captain chooses to ever look closely at your file. And we both know your file is going to be under more than a little scrutiny in the days ahead because of that whole certification cock-up.”

Buck made a face.

“Certification?” Will asked.

Jones explained that one quickly, getting raised eyebrows from Will over how the day had gone down.

“And I’m picking up a shift at the Academy on Wednesday,” Buck supplied. “Massey broke his arm.”

“If he’d stop using sub-standard knots, he wouldn’t fall off the climbing wall,” Jones offered dispassionately. “I don’t know how these old guard jerk-offs manage to keep their jobs.”

Buck shrugged.

DeKay wagged a finger at him. “The point stands that your file is drawing a lot of attention, so it’s going to be hard to slip a whole child in there and not have someone notice.”

“It’s really a matter of will Bobby notice?” Buck countered.

“At some point, you’re just going to need to tell him that you’ve taken guardianship of a kid, and that you’re not wanting to talk about it,” Jones said firmly. “You set the time and place you want to bring it up, set the boundaries, and move on. No one knows anything about your background, so speculation will run rampant, but that’s all it will be.”

“I suppose.” He’d have to work up to that sort of boundary. He took one hand off Charlotte to make a vague gesture at Will. “Might as well tell them the rest.”

“Rest?” Jones echoed. “There’s more?”

“A whole soap opera of more,” Will answered.

Fifteen minutes later, Charlie was stirring a little and starting to mouth at her fist, and Jones and DeKay were both staring at Will like he’d grown four extra heads.

“That’s some Lifetime movie of the week bull-uh-crap there,” DeKay said.

Jones leaned forward to peer around Will. “You watch movies on Lifetime, bro?”

“Mom does. Shut up.”

Buck rolled his eyes and got to his feet, heading into the bedroom to get Charlie back into her clothes. It only took him about a minute to get both of them redressed since her diaper was dry.

He returned and handed her off to Will, stopping the argument about trashy cable movies.

“God, she’s cute,” Jones cooed, gently touching her cheek while Buck went to start a bottle since Charlie was trying to make a whole meal out of her hand.

While the bottle was warming, Buck noted that DeKay’s jaw muscles were flexing. “You okay there?”

DeKay shook his head. “I’ve honestly never taken a rescue so hard in my whole career. I’m just…really glad she’s okay.”

Will exchanged a glance with Buck, then handed Charlie to Marcus. “Hold her for a bit. You’ll feel better. I’ll even give up feeding time.”

Marcus took Charlie like she was made of fine crystal, his eyes a little glassy. “I’ve never fed a baby.”

Buck handed off the bottle, leaving Will to keep an eye on the process. “She’ll eat the whole thing, but she’ll tip her head away if she’s full before the bottle is empty. Will can show you how to wind her. I’m going to run downstairs.”

“You’re leaving me alone with your baby?” Marcus shot him an alarmed look.

Buck laughed. “Her godfather is sitting right next to you. I’m just running the trash downstairs. She’ll still be eating when I get back.”

Jones trotted after him.

“I can take the trash down unsupervised,” Buck said on a laugh.

Jones’ expression was serious. “We’ll protect your secrets.”

Buck nodded. “Thanks.”

“You plan to keep living here?”

“Not forever. She deserves a room of her own and I need a kitchen to learn to cook in, but…” He hesitated. “I don’t want to find the perfect house and then have someone take her away.”

Jones winced. “We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He clapped Buck on the back. “Until then, we’ll keep an eye on her. And we’ll find you a house close by. I think Will might combust if he doesn’t see his princess on the regular.”

Buck smiled and pointed towards the backyard. “Don’t say anything to him, but the people on the other side of the back fence are elderly. I’ve been helping them with yardwork since I moved in. They want to move to Florida. That street has smaller houses than this street, but they are still large enough for a big family. I mentioned I might be house shopping, and they were so excited that someone they know might be looking for a home. I told them it would take me a few months, and they’re fine with waiting until summer.” His smile became brittle. “I hope I’m not leading them on. I just don’t want to mention it to Will and then have it fall through.”

“How’d you even meet them?”

“I was in the yard when I heard Mr. Sawyer yelp. He’d fallen and hurt his hip. I jumped the fence and helped out. He thought it was broken, but I was able to reassure him and his wife that it seemed more likely to be dislocated than broken. I help out with all their trash and chores a couple of times a week for the last several months.”

“By hopping the fence?”

Buck laughed. “No, I walk around the block. I only hopped the fence the first time. But if it works out, I’m sure I could persuade Will to put in a connecting gate.”

“Yeah, that’ll be a rough sell.”

~*~

In the end, it wasn’t really possible to pry Charlie away from Will—or Marcus or Devon—so Buck went to his appointment without Charlie along for the ride.

Dr. Kanoa Sofer had a relaxed, casual air about him in sandals, jeans, and a white t-shirt. He had a heavy New Zealand accent and explained he was descended from the Māori on his mother’s side, but was Jewish on his father’s side of the family. He invited all his patients to call him Kanoa to their comfort, but any variation of Dr. with his names was also fine.

“First, I wanted to clear up the reason why Melvin kept you out of the clinic practice, and that was because the clinic does occasionally do official consults for the LAFD. We’re a bit above their usual contracted rate, so it’s not typical, but it has happened. Based upon one of the issues Melvin disclosed to me that precipitated your decision to seek counseling, he felt it best to keep you in private practice, separate from any provider or insurance contracts.”

Buck nodded slowly. “Is there a conflict of interest?”

“Not with him or me, and if there were, we would have disclosed it to you, but we’re fairly certain one of the newer practitioners here knows Dr. Welles, and we have no way of making inquiries without raising proverbial red flags. Neither of us knows her or has any ties to her, and we barely know the three new therapists the clinic has recruited. Nevertheless, we felt since you were coming in as a cash patient, it was best to keep you off the clinic radar until whatever the situation with Welles had run its course through the department, the licensing board, and potentially the legal system.”

Buck winced.

“Does this give you concerns?”

“It all makes me uncomfortable, but the way it’s been handled doesn’t give me any particular concern.”

“That’s understandable. This is our time to get acquainted. Why don’t you tell me where you’d like to start. If you don’t have a particular point to begin with, I can ask some typical biographical questions to get us started if that’s helpful…?”

Buck pulled out a few sheets of paper. “I didn’t want to spend a ton of time narrating stuff while missing the relevant details, which seems to be my specialty. So, I made a list of what I thought were the most significant details, and then my attorney and friend went over it and made it like three times as long. The yellow highlights are the ones I think are important or that I reluctantly think need to be dealt with.

“The ones highlighted in green were highlighted by my friend Will, who thinks I’m not dealing with a bunch of stuff that we need to eventually address, and the couple things added in blue were tacked on by my attorney that for reasons of custody of my daughter, might be relevant to make sure we address in terms of what she called ‘mental wellness housekeeping,’ and if I get a gold star, we can move on.”

Kanoa blinked at the several pages and then paused at one. “And the pink?”

“Charlie. My daughter. If I don’t get to keep her, I have no fucks to give about anything else, so all of this is about the pink highlight.”

“Okay. Well, this is very thorough. Do I get to keep this?”

“Yes.”

“All right. How about I read this through and make a few notes? I may have a clarifying question or two as I read, and then we’ll take the last of our time to talk, figure out a game plan we’re comfortable with, and we can get down to business in our next session, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“Definitely help yourself to some tea or coffee…” Kanoa said absently as he began to read.

Buck was in the middle of letting the tea steep when Kanoa asked, “What did your parents do to obtain your sister’s cooperation in never mentioning your brother?”

“I…have no idea.”

“Mm.” He went back to reading.

“Tell me your favorite thing about Prudy while I keep reading,” Kanoa asked a couple of minutes later.

It was like a little knife to the heart, but it was also bittersweet. “She liked to dance. Oldies. After dinner, she’d pull back this braided rug she kept over her hardwood floors, put on this old radio, and wait for a song she knew to come on, then she’d teach me to dance so I wouldn’t be a bumbling idiot. When she was confident I wouldn’t make a fool of myself in front of her friends, she’d take me to this local tavern she liked and…” He smiled into his mug. “I danced with old ladies all night.”

Kanoa looked up over the top of his glasses, his hair was curly and sticking up like he’d been running his hands through it. “Seems like a good memory.”

“It was.”

“You miss her?”

“I do.”

“Yet you’ve never been back to Colorado?”

Buck shook his head. “I’m pretty sure the house still smells like her perfume.” He hesitated. “But I would go back. It’s not the same as Hershey. You couldn’t bribe me to go back there. Someday, I will go back to Colorado to visit, and I’ll introduce Charlie to all the places Prudy liked to walk to just sit and watch the sun move across the land. Where her favorite patch of wildflowers was. I-I haven’t been ready.”

Kanoa nodded and went back to reading. A couple of minutes later, he slapped the pages down in his lap and made a furious little noise. “Charlotte was flushed down a pipe?”

“Keep reading. I put her whole story together, even though it puts some other events out of chronological order.”

“This is one of those moments when I need to breathe and recenter myself. May I see a picture?”

Buck pulled out his phone and pulled up the photo album of Charlie. The first picture was of himself and Charlie on the first day at Dr. Grace’s. “She’s about two weeks old here, I think. This is our first day together.” He handed over the phone. “You can flip through the rest. The whole album is her. Or her with someone I know.”

Kanoa was smiling after a moment. “She’s beautiful.” He handed the phone back. “Thank you. I think I just needed to see that she was all right.”

Buck nodded. “I haven’t been at the LAFD long, though I’ve been doing Search and Rescue for a while, and it’s easily the worst moment of my life was realizing she was in that pipe. Though finding out she was still alive in there and getting her out in time was pretty great.”

Kanoa went back to reading. “This is highly unusual, and I can see why the legal system isn’t quite sure what to do with itself, but if CPS allowed legal and physical custody to return to the grandmother, they can’t really complain if she found a new legal guardian.”

“They did complain.”

Kanoa just twitched an eyebrow, mumbling under his breath as he read. When he was finished, he sat back in his chair with his hand over the papers, giving Buck a contemplative look. “There’s a lot of information here, so that was helpful, but what’s missing is the bits between the lines. The motivations and the reactions. Information is helpful, and it gives us a place to start, it helps me know some details so I won’t have to suss them out later, but I think some crucial pieces are in the why.

“But let’s start with this question, aside from keeping your daughter, what do you think is the most important thing for you to work on as a human being? I know there are a lot of logistical things you need to address. But what do you, Evan Buckley, need to sort out as a person who exists in the world, as a new father?”

Buck frowned and considered that for a moment. “I’m not great with boundaries, I don’t think. Other people’s or my own…? I’m not sure.”

“First off, I find that most people need to work on boundary management. But tell me what you mean by that.”

“I think I cling too hard to people sometimes. I’m afraid they’re going to leave me behind or not want me around, and just even thinking about that makes me want to make them need to keep me around. I can almost see the spiral in my own mind and how it feeds into itself, but I can’t seem to stop. I’ve just been so busy since Charlotte landed in my lap that I haven’t had time to be—”

“To be…?”

Buck shrugged. “Neurotic about my boss’s approval, I guess? He’s definitely in this mentor role, but sometimes it’s like he can’t help this paternal vibe he puts out, but then it’s like he doesn’t want to be paternal with anyone, and I’m not sure what that’s about, but at the same time I like it, so I wanted to encourage it.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I know I pushed him too hard sometimes, and I’d get all up in everyone’s business and step over boundaries trying to figure people out.”

“But what about your boundaries?”

“My boundaries?”

“What are they?”

“I’m not sure.” He frowned. “I mean, I’ve figured out I don’t want to have sex with my therapist.”

“Let’s put that out there as a firm rule. Never, ever have sex with your therapist or any person involved in your medical care. It’s always unethical and, in many cases, it’s criminal, particularly in the case of a therapist having sex with their patient. And the wrong is entirely on their side, okay? But it’s a never ever. Firm line. It’s not even a boundary. It’s a wall. It’s a get up and walk out of the office, call the cops kind of wall, okay?”

Buck nodded.

“Good. What else?”

“I figured out early on I didn’t want to hire a nanny who flirted with me, so…I didn’t?”

“Good. You sorted out that it made you uncomfortable to mix the care for your child with any sort of pseudo-sexual overtures from her caretaker and, at least in your own mind, you refused to engage. What else?”

“I’m definitely not having sex on the job anymore.”

Kanoa’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, I’m going to need some more information.” After a few minutes of explanation, with Kanoa making notes, Kanoa asked, “Did your parents often hug you?”

“Hug?”

“Okay. That’s one way of answering that question. And your sister went away to college when you were eight? Did she come home often?”

Buck shook his head. “A couple of times a year.”

Kanoa asked a few more questions about family members, when, and how often they were involved in his life. “I’m going to throw a hypothetical out there. You try it out, turn it over in your mind, and see how it fits. If it needs to work, we can figure out what needs adjustment. If it doesn’t work at all, we’ll find something that fits better, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I think, after your grandparents died, that you were very touch and affection-starved as a child. You lost your virginity rather young, and you started to conflate sex and affection. It’s not uncommon for boys anyway, but I do think it’s particularly prominent in your case. Many of the personal boundaries that you’ve put in place for yourself are about putting sex in its proper place. And sex definitely has a proper place.

“But it brings up multiple things for us to talk about. I think the easy thing for us to discuss at some point might be what the role of sex is in your life and what the healthy boundaries for you are. You’re doing a great job setting those boundaries already. Beyond that, there might be a discussion about healthy affection and how to attain that. Because you need to know what it looks like, what it feels like, and how to put good boundaries around that so you can model those behaviors and boundaries for your daughter as she grows. How does that feel to you?”

Buck stared at the tips of his shoes. “It makes me feel…sad.”

“It’s okay to feel sad. Does it feel wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay. We don’t have to talk about it now. Just something to percolate on. I’d like you to consider bringing a notebook or having a notes app on your phone with ideas you’re going to consider. And when they resonate enough that you’re ready to talk about them, you let me know, okay?”

Buck nodded.

“Would you like me to change the subject?”

Buck nodded again.

“Okay. I’m curious about your decision to tell Devon Jones about Charlotte because you noted yourself that it was, and I quote, ‘weird.’”

“Yeah, I have no idea why I did that. I’ve been so careful, and then I just blurted it out.”

“I just want to set your mind at ease that I think it’s perfectly normal and healthy. You’ve been building tight bonds that are new to you, and the people you’re closest with, the ones you’d normally go right to with this information, are the ones you’re not sure you should tell. It’s eating you up that you question whether or not you should tell them.

“I can’t say whether you’re right or wrong in that assessment, but on some level, your instincts said you’ve known this other person long enough and found them trustworthy enough to tell. It doesn’t surprise me that it would just come out in such a fashion when you’re practically primed to tell your work family about your child, particularly one several of them had a hand in saving, and that restraint you’ve had to exercise set up the situation you found yourself in.

“That said, do you regret the choice you made?”

Buck considered and then shook his head. “I think having Marcus and Devon in the house will be good. It’s weird to have coworkers at my home, but I’m not sure it’s bad.”

“Looping back to boundaries, I think one of the ways you’ve policed your personal boundaries is by being unknown. You keep everything deeply personal behind a wall. From the way you describe yourself, you’re brash and outgoing, but all of that is surface. No one knew where you were from, no one knew you had a sibling or living parents, no one knew you had property in Colorado or had worked in SAR before coming to the LAFD. You hold all the important details tight and sheltered.

“Secrecy is one way to police your boundaries, but it’s not a very effective one because it prevents intimacy and getting to truly know people. And I think, at a deep level, you, like all of us, desire connection. You want to know others, to meet them on an equal playing field, and truly connect. You can’t do that when everything real about you is a secret.

“Time will tell if Devon and Marcus knowing about Charlotte is good or bad but, for now, it just is. Two people who know you, who care enough to think her existence matters in the world. And, from what I’ve gathered, think you matter too. It’s a start.”

Buck nodded, knowing he needed to think that over more, but he didn’t disagree with any of it.

“It’s not uncommon for therapy to have a lot of tactical issues that need to be addressed, and the more we dig in, it’s likely we’ll find that some of those issues have the same source or root issue that needs to be addressed. But even if they all have different issues, we’ll figure it out, all right? Every session, we’ll figure out what’s most important and go from there. If we’re in the middle of something ongoing that’s significant, we might dedicate part of each session for a time to it and then move on to whatever’s top of mind for you for that week.

“In any case, we’ll make this work for you, and nothing I’m hearing so far is sending up red flags that make me think we need to meet three times a week to ensure you’re ready for Charlotte’s adoption.” Kanoa smiled. “So, relax a little, eh?”

Buck blew out a breath and released the stranglehold he had on his teacup. “Yeah.”

“We have another long intake session tomorrow to ensure I have all the biographical and relevant information about these events, but I think we’ll probably be able to wrap up the intake today, and then tomorrow we can work up a plan, give you some homework, and talk through the immediate issue with Dr. Welles since you plan to meet with that contact of your attorney’s in a couple days.”

Buck tensed.

Kanoa raised a brow. “I understood that was what caused your attorney to throw you into therapy and that they’re moving aggressively in regards to legal action, yes?”

Buck nodded.

“I would be remiss to leave you as things are and not give you any skills or ways of handling your emotions. So, I won’t push beyond what you feel you can manage, but not giving you any coping strategies would be negligent on my part.”

“Okay.”

“You can relax, then. And if you don’t feel up to the meeting with the union representative, you simply don’t have to go. This can happen at your pace. We’ll fill in some details for me here on the timeline you gave me, and ensure my biographical information is complete, and then you’re free to go cuddle your daughter.”

Buck smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter Five

“I don’t think she likes me much,” DeKay muttered as he held Charlie awkwardly.

Buck laughed as he went through the gear checklist he’d been provided by the academy to make sure he’d be ready for Wednesday. It was more prepared than he needed to be, but he wasn’t sure how tomorrow was going to go with the union guy and his lawyer, so he wanted to get everything set tonight so he could be a basket case tomorrow if he needed it.

Elaine had agreed to babysit Charlie for Buck’s second therapy appointment this evening, but he was not short of babysitters now.

Even though DeKay wasn’t moving in until tomorrow night, he’d been over helping Jones patch some holes in the wall in Tricia’s old room and had followed Buck upstairs when he’d gotten home.

“She only cares about bottles and being held. You’re just tense with her.” Buck glanced over and found that Charlie was starting to mouth at her fist again, despite her scrunched-up nose. “And it’s about time for her bedtime bottle anyway, so you can feed her.”

“Buck…”

“Stop whining. You volunteered to help while Devon and Will went to Home Depot to get more paint.” Buck started the bottle heating up. “I need to run her diapers downstairs for the recycling service to pick up tomorrow anyway.”

“I don’t know how to relax. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Stop holding her like she’s a bomb about to go off,” Buck said on a laugh.

“Right.” Marcus made a face but pulled Charlie in a little closer to his body, holding her more securely. She immediately stopped making discontented faces.

“See? She likes you fine.”

Marcus smiled down at her. “No one is going to ever let anything happen to you, Princess.”

Buck could help but smile at that, even if the nickname she’d picked up from everyone was ridiculous.

“You’re really okay with all of us feeding her and stuff?”

“Despite Will, and now you and Devon, jumping in, I still do easily eighty percent of her feeds, and most people are happy to feed a baby, while they’re less eager to clean up your house. And they certainly don’t want to take down a bag full of dirty diapers.” Buck rubbed his hand gently over Charlie’s head as he passed. “She deserves to be held, you know? She wasn’t getting as much of that as she needed for the first couple of weeks of her life. But I really need to clean house too. I could put her in the wrap, but why not let you guys get baby endorphins while I prep bottles, fold clothes, and gather up trash?”

“That’s fair, I suppose. Babies sure eat a lot.” Marcus gave him a curious look. “You said you had therapy…? Is it okay to ask if everything is all right?”

Buck nodded. “My attorney is covering the bases in case there are questions about mental health from any social workers or whatever related to the home study. My social worker is actually great, and he said that even once you’re all sorted out, seeing a therapist once a month is good mental hygiene for the sake of your friendships, if nothing else.”

Marcus chuckled. “Lord, my mother would agree.”

Buck shot him a curious look.

“She’s a very famous therapist and life coach. I mean, she’s good at what she does, so she turns down a lot of patients who just want to be on her patient roster after her name got out many years ago when she helped a few big-name celebs handle some major issues. She’s not a miracle worker, no matter what anyone might say, but she knows her stuff.”

“I’m not sure having a therapist for a parent would be fun. At all.”

Marcus full-on laughed, and Charlie turned her head into his body.

“She likes your laugh. Probably as much because of how deep it is as because you full-on relaxed.”

Marcus smiled down at Charlie again. “Is it okay if I tell my mom about her?”

“Sure. You said your mom is probably going to show up here tomorrow night anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, Marcus sighed and slumped down in the rocker, finally getting the glider into motion. “She wants to make sure I’m not moving into a hovel. I’m thirty, and she thinks I can’t sort out my living situation. I just don’t want to drive nearly two hours in LA traffic to get to work.”

Buck laughed as he checked the temp of the bottle.

“How do you know the temp is right? Just in case I need to do it when you’re not here.”

“Body temp, not any warmer. Inside of the wrist is most reliable. Some say back of hand is okay, but the back of my hands are a little too work-rough for that. If the temp is right, it shouldn’t feel like much of anything on the temperature front. Cooler than body temp is okay, but not warmer.”

Marcus nodded. “The warmer is self-explanatory, and the bottle washer is genius. I think Jones washed the same bottles three times, making sure he could figure it out.”

Buck laughed. “It’s really not rocket science.” He passed over the bottle. “I should be back up before she finishes, but just in case, because sometimes the neighborhood cat gets into the trash bins, I know you burped her the other night, so same deal. Just don’t forget the cloth. Her spit-up is no joke. Remember, be relaxed. She responds best to the people holding her just chilling out.”

“I can do that.”

“I’ve got my phone!” Buck slid it into his back pocket and put on his bone-conduction headphones, the only type he ever wore anymore around Charlotte to be sure he could hear her, then grabbed the bags for the diaper service as well as the small bag of trash that accumulated for the day.

He was barely on the second-floor landing when the phone rang, and he really hoped Marcus wasn’t already having a baby crisis. He managed to tap the answer button on his headset with the hand holding the small bag of regular trash. “Are you already having a baby crisis?”

There was a long pause before a completely unexpected voice said, “Mr. Buckley, this is Detective Ransone.”

“Oh. One second. I’m in the stairwell, so that’s the static cause, most likely. The signal will clear up in a second.”

“I can wait.”

The house was almost deserted with everyone either at school, work, social engagements, or Home Depot. People tended to keep their doors closed, so he wasn’t sure who might be home and keeping to themselves, but the house was quiet.

As soon as Buck was in the living room, he said, “What can I do for you, Detective?” He detoured to the kitchen to put his small trash into the big trash to take it out as well.

“I just wanted to follow up about the video from your apartment.”

Buck hesitated. “Was it needed?”

“No, so I wanted to just close that loop. As I mentioned, I was working a case a couple of streets over and had decided to help, but the sergeant responsible for the case had the final call on what evidence we needed to obtain. We discussed all the case reports and evidence today, and I mentioned my note about possible video from the third floor. I gave a verbal explanation that it was a private account, not connected to the rest of the security system, and it was inside your residence, and the only thing it could possibly be useful for is establishing a timeline on when the resident who is the female nursing student went up to get you.”

Buck listened, nodding along as if the detective could see him. He set the trash right outside the front door to run out to the bin as soon as he was done, then he got the diaper recycling prepped for pickup. The company had specific rules about how things had to be done for pickup. No one wanted a cat getting into the diapers.

“Sergeant Matthams decided not to pursue that piece of evidence as we have that timeline established, apparently in the stairwell video as part of the home security system. And since the majority of the altercation took place on the first floor, even though it originated on the second floor, he didn’t want to add to the confusion by including video from the third floor. It will remain a footnote in my individual report that you have private security that is for your own residence and doesn’t include anything outside your door.”

The detective seemed to have phrased that very deliberately, and Buck turned it over in his mind. He thought the detective was clarifying that there was no mention in the report of video, just that Buck had his own security system.

He started to ask when a voice came out of the dark behind him.

“You ruined my life!”

Buck swore, banging into the siding of the house as he spun around.

“Mr. Buckley?”

Buck blinked at Danielle Coburn, swaying on his porch, glaring at him with hate-filled eyes.

“Hello, Ms. Coburn,” he said slowly. “Why are you standing on my porch?”

“You ruined my life!” she screeched.

“I think the bourbon you’re holding in your hand ruined your life, and that happened long before you ever met me.”

“I’m dispatching units to your location. I don’t know what’s going on, but do everything you can to get back inside.”

“Is there a reason you’re blocking my access to my front door, Ms. Coburn?”

Ransone swore.

“Everything would have been fine if you’d kept your nose out of it!”

“I didn’t stick my nose in it,” Buck said calmly. “Marika came to me. She was miserable, but you know that already. You always knew that.”

Coburn flung the bottle of bourbon at him, and he ducked just in time to keep it from hitting his head, but the bottle exploded and showered him with booze.

“All you and that bitch attorney had to do was cooperate! Everything would have been fine!”

“They wouldn’t have been fine for Charlotte. They weren’t feeding her!” Buck said hotly.

“Don’t engage with her if you can help it,” Ransone said softly in his ear. “Units are close.”

“You don’t know anything. You’re nothing but a manwhore who shouldn’t be trusted with any child, much less a baby.”

“Ms. Coburn, nothing has happened to your life that can’t be fixed,” Buck tried calmly. “You got sober and turned your life around once before. You can do it again.” Then Buck realized what she had in her hand. “Okay, whoa. That would be irrevocable. Trespassing is one thing, throwing a bottle of booze at me is not that big a deal, but pulling a knife out is potentially unfixable, Danielle. Don’t throw your life away because you’re pissed off and drunk.”

Ransone swore. “One minute away. How tall is she?”

“You don’t know anything,” Coburn yelled.

“I know that I’m 6’2, and you’re what…5’4, 5’5, and weigh about 150? I’ve easily got forty pounds on you. Considering your frame, I’m not even sure how you managed to hide a Bowie knife of that size. This isn’t going to go well for you. It’s only going to go badly for me because I’d be trying not to hurt your drunk ass. So put the knife down, okay? I’m sorry CPS suspended you or whatever they did—”

“They fired me!” she screamed.

“I’m sorry, but that had nothing to do with me.”

“It was this case. That scrawny little brat! The world would have been better off if that bitch Marika had been successful in drowning her!”

Ransone sucked in a sharp breath.

Buck felt his eyes sting, even as the neighborhood started to light up with red and blue lights coming from multiple directions. “You know what, I don’t care if you’re drunk. It says how fucking evil you are that you wish Charlie had died so that your alcohol-fueled incompetency from years ago hadn’t been uncovered.”

Then, an officer was yelling for Coburn to put down the knife and put her hands up.

Coburn seemed genuinely startled that there were police present. She gave Buck a betrayed look. “You called the police?”

“I was on the phone when you showed up, you evil hag.”

Her face twisted into something dark, and she lunged at him with the knife raised. Two shots rang out, and Buck jolted like he was the one who was hit, even as Coburn hit the porch, the knife clattering off into the dark.

“Buckley? Buck? Evan!”

“What?” Buck managed to whisper as he watched the cops handcuff Coburn.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“I’m one minute away.”

“Okay.” He watched the cops fumble with a first aid kit, talking about rescue being seven minutes out.

Without thinking, Buck dropped to his knees next to her. “Give it here.”

“What?” The cop looked at Buck like he’d grown a second head.

“Which of us is the firefighter?” Buck snapped. “You’re fumbling with the kit. She needs a chest seal. Based on the burbling I’m hearing, she may need two.”

“It’s not really appropriate—” another cop began.

Buck yanked the first aid kit away, grabbing gloves and yanking them on. “Your body cams had better be on. Until someone who is better at handling this gear than I am shows up, just hand me what I ask for. And find the other wounds while I work.” He didn’t let them distract him, focusing on Coburn as a patient who had a penetrating injury to her lung. He got the seal placed and was ready to place another on her back when Will was suddenly there, nudging him out of the way.

“I got this. I’m Will Connors, homeowner, licensed paramedic.” He tossed them his wallet and then pulled on gloves. “Jones, take Buck into the kitchen.”

“I’ve got Mr. Buckley,” a familiar voice said, no longer coming through his headset. “In case Firefighter Jones needs to assist you until on-duty EMS arrives.”

“Ransone,” Jones acknowledged with a nod as he knelt next to Will.

Then Buck was in the kitchen. He wasn’t even sure how he got to scrubbing his hands, but Coburn’s blood was on them, had gotten under the edge of the nitrile gloves. His sleeve cuffs were soaked.

Then Ransone was leading him to a seat at the table and putting a bottle of tea in front of him. “Drink this.”

Buck fumbled for his phone. “I gotta call…”

Ransone covered his hands. “Jones said he had already talked to DeKay. Explained they didn’t have the whole story yet, but everyone from the house was all right. DeKay is with your kid. You good with that?”

Buck nodded jerkily.

“You’re losing time a bit and probably in shock. I’m trying to find hot tea in this warren of a kitchen, but all I found was bottled tea in the refrigerator.”

“Hot tea? Bottom drawer next to the oven.”

“That makes no sense,” Ransone muttered.

Buck zoned out until suddenly Will was kneeling in front of him, there was a mug of tea on the table, Ransone was standing with his arms crossed, watching him with a worried expression, and Jones was sitting at the table, looking at Buck like he was about to blow up.

There was a blood pressure cuff around his arm. “Who took my blood pressure?”

“I did,” Will said gently. “That you zoned through it is a little alarming, and your blood pressure is low enough to make me want to check you for injuries. Did she get close to you with that big-ass knife?”

Buck shook his head.

“Okay. I made some executive decisions, and I’m not sure how much of it is up for debate. I called Mari, and she’s fit to be tied, but she’s handling all the legal stuff, okay? Elaine is on her way to get Charlie. It seems like Coburn is going to survive, but even if there wasn’t that, there was an officer-involved shooting on our porch.

“You need to shower, and probably not be here after you finish cleaning up and giving your statement, so Elaine is hosting you too. At least for tonight. This place is going to be crawling with police and crime scene techs and who knows what for hours, so we’re hustling Charlotte out of here now, and you as soon as the police are finished with you, okay?”

Buck nodded.

“Oh, this easy compliance is not great. If you’re still this goofy after you drink your tea and shower, I’m calling for reinforcements.”

Buck nodded.

~*~

Thirty minutes later, Buck headed back downstairs after showering and changing. The only thing that had broken through his fog somewhat had been kissing Charlie goodbye as Elaine had hustled her out.

He went into the kitchen, finding it much more crowded than when he’d left. But he zeroed in on Will. “Who in the world would you have called for reinforcements?”

“I’d have called Mari.”

“Good choice, I suppose.”

“I’d have called my mother,” Marcus DeKay said from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. “I didn’t know you could even get that pale.”

“Harsh.” He looked around at the couple of uniformed police officers, Detective Ransone, and his various housemates. “So…what’s going on?”

Ransone pointed to the woman in uniform with a long ponytail. “Captain Elaine Maynard.”

“I love the name Elaine. My nanny’s name is Elaine, and I think she’s one of my favorite people on the planet.”

Captain Maynard’s eyebrows shot up.

Will sighed. “It’s the shock. We probably should have insisted on his getting checked out by EMS, but the shower seemed to have set him mostly to rights. And no, he hasn’t been drinking.”

“I haven’t been drinking,” Buck agreed.

“Normally, I have a field sergeant on duty tonight for complicated situations such as this, but I’ve temporarily grounded Sergeant Grant to the station, and since this would absolutely be her case, I’ve grounded her right into this being my work.”

Buck grimaced. “Perhaps it’s best that it’s not Sergeant Grant anyway.”

Maynard’s eyebrows slowly climbed again. “And why is that?”

“Perhaps I could just tell you and Detective Ransone, and you can decide how much of it is relevant to the rest of the investigation…?”

“All right.” She whispered something to the nearest uniformed officer and waited for the other officers to leave. She glanced around. “The others?”

“They already know, more or less.”

“Well, it’s going to have to be pretty good to justify me keeping this from the lead investigator because officers don’t like being told something isn’t their business when it comes to a crime scene.”

“This goes back to January first when…” Buck scrubbed his face. “I’ve explained this so many times, and yet I never know how to explain it.”

Will pulled out his phone. “Let’s start with when Marika showed up at our house and asked Buck to adopt her daughter.”

“Marika?” Maynard asked. “The girl referenced by Ms. Coburn?”

Buck cocked his head in curiosity.

Maynard made a vague gesture. “Lou had your call patched through to dispatch. There wasn’t a lot of context for what was said, so the lead investigator will have questions, but I heard as much of the conversation as dispatch had recorded. Though, first explain to me why Detective Ransone was calling you at all.”

“A few nights ago, a couple of our roommates got into a brawl,” Buck began. “Several other roommates were hurt in the process. The detective wound up here helping with witness statements. I was involved at the very tail end of the altercation, so I was effectively the least involved, I think, and I wasn’t hurt at all. Will, the homeowner, offered up the security footage from the first two floors.

“When the detective was taking my statement, he noted more cameras on the third floor, and I don’t remember what all was said, but I mentioned I have separate cameras in my residence on the third floor that are under a separate account and wouldn’t be preserved by whatever Will does for the rest of he building since he and I have never discussed that, and I pay for my own security package. The detective asked me to preserve recordings from that day just in case.

“He called me tonight to say they’d done their case review, and the lead investigator had determined nothing from the third floor was relevant since all the fight, damage, and injuries had occurred on the first and second floor, and the two people arrested had never even been to the third floor. I think he was going to let me know I didn’t need to preserve the videos or something, but we hadn’t gotten that far when Coburn showed up.”

Maynard looked to Ransone, who nodded. “It was always a strange ask to have him preserve video in a residence where the two suspects had never been, but in case there was something useful in terms of timeline, I requested he not delete anything. Matthams felt the first and second-floor cameras firmly established the timeline, and adding cameras from a whole, unrelated floor was just muddying the waters in terms of reports and discovery.”

“Fair enough. So, none of that has anything to do with tonight or January first…?”

“No,” Buck said. “It’s just why I happened to be on the phone with a police officer when I was taking the diapers down for the recycling service to pick up in the morning. Oh lord. Please don’t let your crime-scene techs open the green bags with the storks with clothespins on their beaks on them. Rude, rude surprise.”

Maynard grinned. “Nah. Everyone needs a rude surprise sometimes. Please proceed with whatever I need to know about January first.”

Will set his phone in the middle of the table. “This is Marika’s first contact with us. I knew nothing at this point. We can fill in the gaps after.”

After the recording played, Maynard shook her head. “I know exactly which case this is.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “And your concern is that Sergeant Grant would have an issue with the case because you and she had a conflict over the transport of the child with the mother?”

Buck’s eyebrows shot up.

“Between us, Athena bitched to me about you telling her what to do on scene, and I told her she was dead wrong to transport a would-be attempted murder suspect with their victim, and that if you lodged a complaint against her, I would not do a damn thing to shield her from it.”

Maynard took one of the free chairs at the huge table and sat down. “There are clearly a lot of details I’m missing. Start filling in the rest.”

Buck let Will do most of the talking, explaining the issues with Coburn, the hearing with the judge last week, and the judge’s displeasure with CPS trying to first cover for Coburn and then try to have a do-over on cases that had already found a better remedy.

Maynard’s eyes were narrowed. “None of this has trickled out to the LAPD yet.”

“Should it?” Buck asked, bewildered.

“Yes,” Ransone said softly. “At least quietly. We’re the initial investigation for exigent cases. Also, we’re the enforcement arm for many others. When CPS goes to investigate a tip or complaint, or to remove a child, they take LAPD or the Sheriff’s office with them. We often investigate child abuse cases before CPS is ever on scene because there are many more of us than there are of them. Also, any referrals where CPS believes there is cause for arrest come back to us. If Marika’s case was not unique, are they doing a systematic review of all of Coburn’s cases? Should LAPD officers who are keeping an eye on those kids be on alert? Are there kids or abused spouses who have been blackmailed into silence by their own caseworker? That CPS hasn’t come clean with us is a little concerning.”

Buck rubbed his temples.

“And that’s an issue we’ll resolve,” Maynard said firmly. “This is likely on the division trying to clean up their own mess and not handling things properly. For now…” She drummed her fingers on the table. “It will be an issue to leave all the officers in the dark. There are two I fully trust to know the history of why there’s a potential conflict of interest between you and Sergeant Grant on this case. I’m going to read them in myself so the officers on scene feel represented in the knowledge being shared. Even if they don’t all know, they’ll feel comfortable that their lead investigators are fully briefed.

“And then I will be having a conversation with Athena.”

Buck winced.

“I fully understand your concern, but I want to assure you that I’ve known Athena Grant for years, and if she’d had any inkling of what this would lead to…” Maynard shook her head. “She’s going through the wars herself right now, and nothing excuses what happened that day, especially since it pre-dates her own personal drama, but sometimes we all need object lessons on why protocol exists. It sounds like Marika existed every damn day torn between wanting a different life for her baby and wanting to kill her baby.”

Buck recoiled at that.

“As cops, Lou and I are trained to hear what CPS should also have been hearing. Marika was so desperate not to have that baby, she’d have done anything. You were her last hope. A hope she saw as ethical in a system she saw as fundamentally unethical and broken, which had failed her in the worst way. And I happen to agree with her that you were an ethical choice. But none of that changes the fact that I firmly believe she’d have eventually tried to kill that baby again. The only thing that stayed her hand was fear of going to jail, and that only lasts for so long.”

“I need to—” Buck got to his feet. “I gotta go.”

“I know,” Maynard said. “Your friend, Firefighter DeKay, is going to drive Detective Ransone’s vehicle, while you give a recorded statement to the detective while en route. Firefighter Jones will follow with your vehicle. Then they will be transported back here, leaving you and your vehicle behind. The division of labor is because since DeKay is an engineer for the LAFD, he’s actually licensed to drive all city vehicles. Weird insurance thing. Unfortunately, as the homeowner, I need Mr. Connors to stay here. And with Ms. Bettencourt incoming and furious, I’d prefer to use him as a human shield.”

Will gave a startled laugh.

“I’ve always known how to pick my battles, Mr. Connors.”

“I’ll bet you have.”

“Is this agreeable, Firefighter Buckley?” Maynard asked him, voice kind.

Buck nodded jerkily.

“Good. You will still need to come in and sign an official statement, but this should appease the lead investigator for now. Incidentally, Ms. Coburn will likely survive. EMS said you, Mr. Connors, and Firefighter Jones did an admirable job treating her wounds.”

He wasn’t even sure what to say to that.

Will halted Buck in the hallway. “I’ve got a bag ready for you, and your gear is in the back of the SUV. I know you don’t have the Academy until the day after tomorrow, but I’m not sure when the house will be cleared, and you may not want to be back in here tomorrow anyway. Are you going to be up to working at the Academy on Wednesday?”

“I’m not sure. I think so. Work always helps me get the tension out, and I don’t want to just be a ball of tension when I’m taking care of Charlie. I can’t imagine a day with Elaine hovering won’t be enough to work out the mental kinks.”

“I understand. I know it probably feels like it’s the middle of the night, but it’s not even ten yet, so Mari called your, uh, Kanoa. I know you just saw him, but he texted her and said you should make contact with him tonight, up until midnight, okay? Check on your kid, let Elaine give you a hug, and then call him, okay?”

Buck nodded

“It’s okay to handle this how you need. If you need to pick up a half shift tomorrow to work off some energy, do it. If you just want to go for a long walk with your kid, do that. Don’t force yourself.”

“I feel lousy leaving you guys here with this.”

“She didn’t try to kill any of us. And we’re fine.” Will nudged him towards where Ransone, Marcus, and Devon were waiting by the door. “I can’t believe I have another mess to clean up, though.”

“Just focus on the holes Angelica put in the walls. That’s enough for any person.”

“I always found spackling to be therapeutic.”

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