You're not jealous, Kingston, Chase told himself as he walked briskly down the darkened streets of Cedar Springs toward Sookie's. But you can't let this old flame steal your thunder.

His thing with Sookie might just be a fling, but that didn't make him any less invested in keeping other men from circling her. It was only natural for him to feel the way he did, wasn't it? He wasn't used to being challenged by other men over women . . . not that Jason had challenged him outright. Hell, the other man had barely looked at him. The thought only incensed Chase further. Did Jason not recognize that he was an opponent, an obstacle? Because he sure as shit intended to be one if that local beanpole so much as looked at Sookie with a spark of sexual curiosity on his face.

Sookie's not yours, the sensible voice in the back of his head reminded him. And there's no faster way to drive her off than to start acting like she is.

He wished the voice didn't sound so much like Hank's.

Chase turned the corner and was surprised to find Sookie's lights still on. He checked the glowing face of his watch, but he could already guess the time. He had set out from his place around one in the morning, with the intention of clearing his head after a few lonesome beers; his feet just happened to take him in Sookie's direction. He hadn't expected her to still be up. He knew she had a shift early tomorrow morning.

He also hadn't expected to find her standing in the driveway, locked in Jason's arms.

When she raised herself up on her tiptoes, and when her lips touched down on Jason's cheek, Chase froze dead in his tracks.

The moment seemed to drag on into minutes . . . hours. Chase understood that, logistically speaking, Sookie couldn't have kissed her ex for longer than a split second, but the sight of them together seemed superimposed on the night long after they had withdrawn and said goodnight.

Jason got into his car, and Sookie disappeared back inside the house.

Chase stood alone on the street. And he boiled. Anger raced through his veins like heat lightning, and his fist itched to do—what? To make good on his fantasy of punching Jason? To pound on Sookie's door and demand answers?

Were you with him tonight?

"Goddammit," Chase hissed under his breath. When the single, intrusive thought wouldn't be banished, he turned and rammed his fist into the cold metal streetlight beside him. His knuckle split, and the circle of light he stood in wobbled . . . but the California cicadas kept trilling, and the memory of Sookie's lips touching Jason kept turning over and over again in his mind.

He made the walk back home in half the time. He blew through the foyer so quickly that none of the poker-playing squad members sitting around the kitchen table had the chance to comment on the swiftness of his errand.

He pelted up the stairs, threw the bedroom door open, and kicked it closed behind him with enough violence to shake the whole house. He tossed himself down on his mattress, rolled over, and buried a groan into his pillow.

"What's up, Kingston? You look like someone just drowned your dog."

Chase glanced over and found the other bed in the room occupied. Landon Brenner sat upright, back pressed against the wall, typing a report on his laptop. If he had glanced up at Chase's theatrical entry, then he gave no indication of it now; his eyes were lasered in on his work.

"I don't want to talk about it," Chase snarled.

"Uh-huh." Landon still didn't look up from his screen.

"It's just . . . if you were with a girl, right, but you hadn't said you were exclusive or anything, and then her ex came back into town—that would still piss you off, right? You'd be justified in wanting to lay him out with a cathartic punch or two, yeah?"

"Is this about Sookie?" Landon asked.

Chase sat up straight in his bed. "I didn't say it was about anyone specific! What makes you think that?"

Landon finally stopped typing. He levelled a look at Chase that clearly said: Really? "Dude, everyone knows about you and Sookie. Hank bitches about it constantly. Did she hook up with her ex or something? Is that what this is about? Because I heard that guy's already engaged."

"I don't know," Chase admitted. He shifted his legs over the side of the mattress and hunched forward, gripping the edge of the bed as if the gravity in Cedar Springs might reverse itself at any moment. "I don't know if they hooked up. I don't think Sookie would if she knew he was engaged. But I happened to see them hug, and . . ."

What if that son of a bitch lied to her?

"You happened to be stalking them?" Landon said helpfully. "I'm not going to lie to you, Kingston, this is already starting to sound unhealthy as shit. Sounds like you've been cheated on before."

Chase white-knuckled the bed frame so hard, his fingers popped.

Landon's expression shifted instantly. "Jesus, dude, I'm sorry. I had no idea. Was it Sheila?"

"Sheila," Chase confirmed.

"Unbelievable." Landon sat upright and pushed his computer aside. "The two of you were dating for how long?"

"Four years." What Chase chose not to reveal to a sympathetic Landon was that Sheila had cheated with his best friend at the time. "Look, I didn't mean to turn this into a fifth-grade girls' slumber party. If you have a report to get—"

"Look," Landon interrupted him. "If Chief's sister means something to you, then you need to work it out. Don't torture yourself speculating on what may or may not be happening. For fuck's sake, Kingston, this town is tiny. You could walk five minutes and solve this mystery by asking Sookie yourself."

"I'm done talking," Chase said stubbornly. "Sorry I brought it up."

"You're never done talking," Landon said. "But right now I need you to listen to what I'm saying to you. If the thing with Sookie is just a fling, then let it be a fling. You guys are adults. But whatever you decide, I know one thing's for sure: If you have your head screwed up while you're supposed to be watching my back out there, then I would rather have someone else watching it."

Chase sat in silence. He hated giving anyone else the last word, but he knew Landon was right. The other firefighter was completely justified in calling him out. He sucked in a long breath through his nose and stood.

"Off to solve the mystery?" Landon asked him.

"I'm taking a walk," Chase replied. He paused in the doorway and gripped the doorjamb. "My head is clear," he said. "The thing with Sookie . . . it was fun. She was fun. But it just isn't the right time."

For either of us, he thought. Chase wasn't done mourning Sheila if it was still so easy for him to jump to conclusions, and maybe Sookie wasn't done with Jason, either. Starting up a fling had been a bad idea. They were gasoline and a lit match, just waiting to combust.

Someone else was waiting to combust in the hallway. As Chase turned the corner, he found Hank waiting for him. His chief was a tower of tensed muscle, his fists clenched and loaded at his sides. Chase had never seen the other man so furious. He took a startled step backward before he could convince his lizard brain to stand its ground.

"Glad to hear you think my sister was fun, Kingston," Hank growled.

"Hank, I swear I didn't mean—"

"I don't give a rat's ass what you mean!" the chief snarled. "I tried to be understanding of whatever the two of you thought you had, but I will not listen to you degrade the only family I have left on this earth. Sookie is too damn good for you. She's always been too damn good for you."

And I'm not good enough for her. It was something of a marvel to hear what Chase had always suspected finally be dragged out into the open. First Court, then Sheila . . . did I think it was only coincidence? I wasn't good enough for them, either.

"Yeah, I get it, Chief." Chase shouldered past him. He fully expected to be flung down the stairs for his dismissal—hell, he almost wished Hank would toss him—but the fire chief exhibited his usual inhuman control and let him pass unharmed. Chase couldn't help wondering if it was because he needed all his bones intact to dig trenches and prep foam tanks. With Hank, he assumed refraining from violence in this instance was a matter of logistics. Chase was an indispensable member of the squad, there for one purpose and one purpose alone.

It was time to start acting like it again.