It had been hard falling asleep last night without the solid heat of Chase's body beside her.

Sookie tossed and turned, managing to lose whatever sleep she’d thought the long overdue conversation with Jason would have earned her. Hell, she hadn't even been able to close her eyes long enough to entertain her reoccurring nightmare about the wildfire burning out of control. Even that would have given her some relief—or at least been enough to distract her from the fact that she was sleeping alone.

Morning came, and Sookie hauled herself groggily out of bed. She went through the motions of showering and didn't even bother drying her hair; she gave it a quick shake, combed her fingers through it, and raced out the door of her rental half an hour earlier than usual. She was in a hurry to get to Dyna's and acquaint herself with a steaming cup of fresh, hot coffee . . . and more than that, she was in a hurry to see Chase. Her thoughts raced faster than she did, and memories of Jason's unsolicited advice from the night before wouldn't stop circulating.

Maybe she did owe it to herself to give this thing with Chase a real shot. And maybe she owed it to Chase, too. She could tell he cared for her, maybe even as much as she cared for him. The fact that they tried to keep their growing feelings a secret from one another just seemed absurd. They were two totally mature adults, weren't they? They should be able to have this conversation.

Sookie just hoped she wanted to have the same conversation Chase did.

She arrived early to the morning briefing at the station, surprised to find Chase already seated in his chair toward the front. Rather than post up along one of the walls like she usually did, she made a beeline for him, conscious of passing two other squad members on her way. Fine. She didn't mind having an audience. Speaking to Chase was too important.

"Morning, Kingston." She leaned against the desk the local chief usually sat behind. Chase broke whatever reverie he was lost in to look at her. She saw a flicker of something pass across his face—was it excitement at seeing her?—but it was so quickly repressed in the next instant that she felt winded and delusional. The expression he wore was one of slack indifference.

"Hey."

"That's all I get? Just a hey?" She crossed her arms, keeping her tone casual, but she couldn't deny the lukewarm welcome stung.

Chase shrugged. "Sorry. That's all I got?"

"Late night?"

It was definitely not her imagination when he scowled. "For some people, it was."

"Chase?" She hated how small and hesitant her own voice sounded by comparison. She had been trying to keep their conversation private, but Chase's clipped responses were loud enough for everyone else to hear. "What's up? You know you can talk to me. If you'd prefer to go somewhere else, we could—"

"It's nothing," he interrupted. He rocked forward in his chair, and the way his boots hit the floor seemed to Sookie like intentional punctuation. She looked around the room, and realized the other squad members were looking anywhere but directly at the two of them.

What the fuck?

"Look alive, crew." Hank entered the room then, followed closely by the Cedar Springs chief.

Sookie shifted off the desk and alighted in her usual spot by the corner. She barely registered the assignments as they were doled out, her gaze trained on the back of Chase's neck as if she could ignite the close crop of his hair if she fixated hard enough. There were capable firemen in the room, right? So what was the harm in trying to go a little Firestarter?

Her thoughts about Chase were slightly kinder as soon as she was paired with one of the locals, Tony. She hadn't flown with him on an assignment before, and an hour later in the air, his inexperience still showed.

"Getting close to the trench," Tony muttered over the headset.

"Sorry? Could you say that louder?" she called back to him. She suspected she had heard correctly the first time, but still hoped to be proven wrong.

"I said the fire's creeping awfully close to the trench!" Tony responded. "We hadn't counted on it coming up against our barrier for at least a few more days."

"Shit," Sookie cursed below her breath—or at least, what she thought was below her breath. So much time spent up in the Hawk had trained her to make herself heard.

"You could say that again," Tony said. "But I wouldn't worry too much about it just yet. Just something we need to keep an eye on for now."

“Mmm hmmm,” Raj’s voice said in her ear, and she glanced over to catch his eye and nod. She could see from his expression that the copilot was equally unsettled by the fire’s unpredictable progress.

They touched down safely an hour later, and Tony took off to complete his report. He offered a friendly wave in parting, but Sookie barely registered it—she was too busy hunting the tarmac for a sign of Chase—or any other member of Hank's squad who might direct her to Chase. She saw no one. Must not be back from their assignment yet, she thought.

A low, warm wind picked up, buffeting her dark hair around her face. Sookie raised her chin to the sky and squinted. The sun hung like a baleful red pendulum above her.

It wasn't just Chase's cold-shoulder treatment that was getting to her.

Something wasn't right.

"The wind feels like it's changing," Sookie said out loud, a day later. "I don't like it."

Lana carried their usual tray of tea into the parlor and sat down. Neither woman leaned forward immediately to help herself. It was Sookie's day off, and they had planned this lunch together days ago, although neither appeared to be in the mood for lunching. There is something in the air, Sookie thought. Lana feels it, too.

The other woman appeared to be mulling over Sookie's words. She stared out the room's far window, thoughts swimming behind her eyes. Her hair was tied back from her neck today, and she looked as naturally and effortlessly elegant as she always did.

Sookie knew she sounded ominous, maybe even superstitious, and she appreciated the way her friend still took her seriously when she got this way. She mentally pinched herself and leaned in, then, to break the spell, snagging a sugar cookie off the tea tray. Her right leg jounced. Could be that Dyna had just made the coffee especially strong this morning, and that's why she was feeling so anxious all of a sudden.

Yeah, could be.

"What does Hank think?" Lana asked. Sookie snapped the cookie off with her teeth, loudly, and Lana held up her hands. "Sorry I asked."

"We talk . . . over the radio," Sookie admitted.

Lana smiled. "Sounds like progress to me."

Has he been by to see you yet? The question was on the tip of Sookie's lips to ask, but she quickly cemented her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. Easy to do, when your mouth was full of sweet, sugary, home-baked goodness. "Hank feels the same as me. I think. Say what you will about him . . . well, maybe you won't. I will say what I will about him, but he's a damn good fire chief."

"Is that what Chase told you?" Lana asked.

The cookie turned to ash in her mouth. Sookie glanced away quickly. "I don't want to talk about Chase."

"Yes, you do," Lana said simply. She poured a tall glass of cool tea and pushed it toward Sookie. "Everyone in town knows the two of you are together."

Sookie was grateful for the drink and quickly chugged some to prevent herself from choking on her surprise. "Small towns," she muttered darkly. "This is why I told myself I'd never live in one again."

She straightened her shoulders and turned to Lana. "If you want to know how Chase is doing, you should ask him yourself. Apparently he's over talking to me. It remains to be seen if he's over . . . other parts of me." She tried to sound callous about it, but she still felt a stab of pain, hearing herself say the words aloud. "Seriously, Lana, I'm thinking about calling the whole thing off. Chase is a known player back in his hometown, and I think his true colors are finally starting to show. I was just starting to think things might be . . ." She trailed off before she could say different. "—well, things are what they are. One minute, he seems crazy about me, and the next, the novelty's worn off." Sookie shrugged in an attempt to broadcast indifference. "It's fine. Hell, it's better this way. I call the shots in my life now. I knew I was playing with fire when I started this fling with Chase. Can't expect a leopard to change their spots, I guess—or whatever homey expression you might have for this occasion."

"I wouldn't say that at all," Lana corrected. Sookie glanced up in surprise; Lana laughed, and reached between them to grab her knee affectionately. "Darlin', I really don't think Chase is a player. He has a reputation, sure, but he seems like he's got a soft heart. Softer than yours," Lana said point-blank.

Sookie looked down guiltily. She had been so busy readying her shields that she hadn't even considered she was being unfair. "Not that you don't have every reason in the world to be guarded," Lana continued with another affectionate squeeze. "But trust me, Sookie dear, most men are just real insecure by nature . . . something I know all too well. Don't judge Chase just yet. Everyone else in his life does. Why not be the exception?"

"You're too good, Lana," Sookie blurted. Her eyes stung, but she couldn't be sure if it was the threat of tears. She wasn't a crier, normally. It was probably all the smoke in the air. "Us Logans are seriously not worthy of you."

"Oh, stuff it," Lana said, her face coloring a little at the compliment. She quickly snatched another cookie off the tray and thrust it toward Sookie. "Here. Eat this. It's sweeter than me, I promise."

"Doubtful," Sookie said, but obliged anyway. No matter how she might change, she had never been shy about her appetite—especially not where Lana's baking was concerned. Still, even the mouth-watering confections being pushed on her weren't enough to distract her from what had been said.

Maybe Lana was right. Maybe she needed to track down Chase and talk things out.

And she knew just the place to start.