Page 26 of Calling a Cease-Fire

I barely heard the murmured words above the sound of the engine and music.

“But that’s not realistic.”

She sent me one of her glares, and I held her gaze, not willing to back down. Because she had to come to terms with that aspect of the job. If she didn’t…

“I distinctly remember you saying you could help me forget.”

“Sure. For an hour. But it wouldn’t be permanent.”

She chuckled. “Cocky are we?”

“Not cocky. Facts.”

Do not think about her naked. Do not think about her naked.

After a few more songs, we pulled up in front of Wreck It and made our way inside. I had already reserved a room for forty-five minutes, so I just had to give my name. Once we went through the safety briefing and got equipped with protective gear, one of the staff members led us to our room.

“What if I’d refused to come?” she asked as we stepped inside.

I shrugged. “I would have just come by myself.”

She looked around, taking in everything. “So, what do we do?”

I picked up a baseball bat and spun it in my hand. “Break things. I usually accompany the smashing and crashing with admissions of the things I’m feeling. Like…” I brought the bat over my shoulder, eyeing a vase sitting on a table. “I feel guilty sometimes.” I swung hard, obliterating the vase into tiny pieces.

Her brows pulled together as she stared at me. “Why do you feel guilty?”

I leaned on the bat. “That I’m alive when someone else didn’t make it home from a call. Or that I enjoy being busy at work even when that means others suffer.”

She picked up a mallet. “I hate feeling powerless.” Using both hands, she brought the mallet down hard on a ceramic plate. The tiny pieces scattered everywhere. “Why can’t I help them?” She destroyed a printer with multiple erratic smashes. “Nothing I do can help them,” she screamed.

“So quit,” I offered, preparing for the scowl I hoped she’d shoot my way.

She rewarded me instantly with heat in her gaze. “Screw you.”

I laughed. “You have to decide what you can live with. Knowing all the people you do help comes with ones you can’t, versus not helping anyone ever again.”

Her breathing came in short pants, and it made me smile, although the scowl she wore made me want to laugh at her. I loved it when she was all riled up. Something about her fire intrigued me. Ignited a desire to see it again. To see more of her.

I handed the baseball bat out toward her, and once she grabbed it, I picked up a crowbar and used it to splinter an old cabinet. Pretty quickly, we were destroying stuff in tandem. The smell of wood and plastic mixed with sweat filled the air around us.

The bat clattered to the ground, and she bent over with her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.

I came to stand in front of her. “So what are you going to do?”

She looked up at me and narrowed her gaze. “Right now, I’m contemplating punching you.”

“Careful. I might like that.”

She straightened, rolling her eyes. “I’m not quitting.”

“Good.” I grinned, internally pumping my fist into the air. “Do you feel better?”

Her lips twitched. “Actually, I do. Like I can finally let out a breath. Not sure that makes sense.”

“It does.”

We returned the safety gear and walked outside. She held her hand out for the keys and I cocked a brow as I pulled them from my pocket. When she reached out to grab them, I pulled back and lifted them high in the air.