Charlie sat back on the break room couch, taking a sip of the coffee Connor had made, which he passed to her when she’d emerged from the back of the rig, reams of paperwork in hand. She had to hand it to the guys. She’d been worried they’d see her differently when everyone heard about the call with the toddler, but they’d managed to find a way to help cheer her up without treating her with kid gloves.

Normally, she was just one of the guys, and she would have fought tooth and nail against it anytime someone tried to treat her as different or not as capable and strong. But this week, she was over fighting it. Being treated differently because she was the only woman was something she’d long feared about her job, and something friends and colleagues experienced too often, but this was different.

The guys of Engine 81 had managed to make her feel, well, like family. Someone was being an ass to her, and they had her back. And chocolate—which was something she appreciated more than even Shane could guess. Speaking of Shane, he’d finally let up on being her new stalker. As days had gone past since the discovery of the note at the call to the murder with nothing else rearing up, the tightness had slowly leached out of his shoulders and he’d become her grinning, teasing partner again. She’d appreciated it. Yesterday, she’d needed a normal day more than she’d known at the time.

Her deposition in the Monahan case had been the day before, and she’d been dreading it. As much as the guys had wanted to be there for her, they weren’t able to. The deposition was taken down at HQ and consisted of herself, her union rep, the chief, and his boss on one side; and Mrs. Monahan and her lawyer on the other. Charlie had rolled her eyes when she’d seen her walk in with her arm in a sling, which probably hadn’t done her any favors, but she’d seen Chief Stone hiding his grin underneath his hand. The whole process had taken nearly two hours, in which time she’d been quizzed on everything from who’d set up the ambulance before shift that day to what brand of toothpaste she used—at least, it felt like it. Her stomach had skittered when Monahan’s lawyer questioned her on procedure for using medications while on the scene or in transport. That time, the chief’s hand had hidden a frown. But then Monahan’s lawyer had moved on and Charlie had let out a quiet breath of air, wanting to hide her nerves around the topic but unable to do so entirely. That investigation, while still open, was entirely in-house—or at least, it should be. There was no way the lawyer could have known about it, unless someone had a big mouth.

The rest had been relatively smooth sailing. Even the big boss from HQ had seemed happy enough with her when it was all over. Still, something was niggling in the back of her brain—about Monahan, or something else from that week, she didn’t know. That didn’t stop it from scratching at her memory. It would be a while before the adrenaline rush wore off enough for her to even want to try thinking about it.

Monahan’s medical records hadn’t come into it during the meeting. That was for another day. Charlie was sure they’d exonerate her, and fortunately, HQ seemed to have her back. On this issue, at least. Still, emerging from the building to find Shane waiting for her, large frappe and donut in hand, made the entire process almost disappear.

The rest of the evening before next shift had been spent at her place, watching TV together again. He’d rested his hand on hers, or her leg, slowly brushing up and down her thigh, and a few nibbly kisses had found their way to her neck, with a few more to her lips. She hadn’t protested. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if she was done with protesting at all. Her body wanted Shane. It made that abundantly clear. All he had to do was walk past and her pulse ticked into overdrive, her body warming.

If there was something good to come out of this shit of a week, it was that she didn’t need to worry about being treated differently. Her colleagues at the house had known something was up with her this week, to the point of taking extra care with her in private. When they’d been at a call-out, though, they’d treated her completely professionally and let her do her job. She appreciated their support—both public and private—more than she could tell them.

Did it mean that maybe there was a chance for her and Shane, that nothing would change with the rest of the guys as a result? For years, she’d been so concerned with not giving anyone a moment to doubt her, to call her into question as a female working in a hugely male-dominated industry. Somehow, she’d forgotten that, at Engine 81 at least, that just meant having a greater number of older brothers than you could count looking out for you. Well, one that wasn’t so brotherly. Shane dropped down on the couch next to her, handing her another donut.

“You liked the last one so much, I went again this morning on the way in.”

She looked over at him and nearly melted. On his face was a genuine smile that she’d seen before. Now, it was intermingled with something else. Not concern or pity, as she’d feared, but something. She wouldn’t go so far as to call it love; who knew if they’d ever make it to that, but it was something. It made her feel . . . wanted. She grinned back. That felt good. Nearly as good as the taste of the tart-sweet glaze as she bit into the soft, perfectly risen dough. “Oh, my God, that is amazing.”

“Lemon glaze,” Shane said. “Thought you’d like it.”

“Go now. Get a dozen.”

Shane chuckled, putting his feet up on the coffee table, ignoring Mason’s mock glare, and took a sip of his own coffee. “Would have brought you another drink, too, but looks like someone already took care of that.”

She smiled. “Connor. Everyone’s been really great this week.”

Shane frowned, though his eyes were still twinkling. “Anyone I need to be jealous about?”

Charlie paused, taking a deliberately slow sip of her coffee, followed by another large bite of the donut. “Oh, I don’t know, are there more of these where this one came from?”

Shane grinned. “Darlin’, I’ll bring you one every day if it puts that look on your face.”

* * *

Charlie stared out the window, her hand at her mouth as she nibbled on a nail. They were on their way back from the second call of the shift, something easy for a change, a guy who had fallen off a ladder trying to clean his gutters. Good for him, he’d only been four steps up when he fell and had escaped with little more than a sprained ankle. That hadn’t changed the niggle that was still bugging her. It had rattled around in the back of her brain ever since she’d woken in the middle of the night with no idea why. At first she thought it had been about the legal case, but the more she thought about it, the more she wasn’t convinced. No, it was something to do with Herman Langley; the man who had disappeared after hijacking Mrs. Simmons’ house for what had possibly been the weirdest call of the year. He wouldn’t be the first patient to be looking for a little extra attention. Sometimes they were lonely, sometimes just bored, but still. Something was just off about the whole thing. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

Shane swung the wheel to round the corner, then turned to catch her gaze. “Okay. Out with it.”

She turned, forcing her hand away from her mouth. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet for a whole ten minutes. Something’s wrong. What is it?” He looked over at her, this time his gaze reflecting his concern. “Is it the deposition yesterday?” His look sharpened. “Something happen you’re not telling me about?”

Why had Shane caring about her ever bothered her? It was as if she’d been afraid of something that wouldn’t have ever happened. The guys at the house treated her like their own; she should have realized what that meant. And now that she’d gone a whole week without hearing any more on the missing drugs and HQ actually standing by her on the Monahan case, she’d finally managed to take a breath. She looked out the front window, watching Monroe pass by. Maybe something was actually possible here.

“Silence isn’t going to get you out of it, you know. I know where you keep your chocolate.”

Charlie smiled. She may as well tell him, or he’d keep at it, and they had at least sixteen more hours on shift together. Besides, talking it over with someone else might shake whatever it was lose from her brain. “Okay, but it’s nothing, really. Just something about Herman Langley.”

Shane kept his gaze straight, but his hands tightened just a little around the wheel. “What about him? Has Scott been able to track anything else down?”

She shook her head. Scott had promised to keep digging into the mystery man after their second call-out to the apartment, but he hadn’t found anything new—that she knew of, anyway. Not that she was expecting it. He’d been busy with a case that actually mattered, insisting the homicide where the boy had been left behind with the note should come to him after he’d found out it involved the firehouse. She’d been grateful to him. He might have been good friends with Seth, but he didn’t owe her squat. Even so, she’d appreciated having someone truly on her side when all that shit had broken.

“It’s something about Langley himself,” she said. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, remembering the call. Her mind lingered on when she’d been treating him. Was that it? “There were other cuts on his hand. Old ones, but deep. It seemed odd.”

Shane shrugged, pulling into the engine bay. “Maybe the old guy’s just clumsy.”

Charlie opened the door, swinging her legs out and hopping down onto the concrete floor. “Maybe. But there’s something about them. I just can’t remember what.”

“You could ask Jesse about it,” Shane suggested, sticking his head around from the back of the rig. “I bet he still has some of his FBI connections, even if he’s on leave. Maybe there’s some kind of database or something he can check, see if Langley pops up somewhere Scott doesn’t have access to.”

Charlie nodded her assent. “It’s probably nothing.” Shane climbed in the back of the ambulance, grabbing the log books. Once he was out of view, she let out a breath and leaned against the rig, shoving her hands in her pockets. Herman Langley’s face ran through her mind. There likely wasn’t anything to actually remember. He hadn’t looked familiar at the call. She shook her head, pushing up and moving to go help Shane. She’d just been obsessing over it, trying to force a memory that was likely nothing more than the memory of another patient. She’d attended hundreds of calls with knife wounds over the years. That was all this would be, too. Still, she’d call Jesse when she was next off shift, anyway. Just in case.