Smoke & Mirrors by Skye Jordan
28
Logan
Ipull into Station 21, my gut still aching.
I didn’t see or hear Isabel come back to the motel last night, and there was no sign of her when I woke up. So she either came late and left early, or she stayed somewhere else—maybe even just stayed in jail.
One part of me feels like shit. Like making a big deal out of this is stupid and petty. Then there’s the other part. The one that reminds me how one small lie turns into many bigger lies. That if she can lie about this, she could lie about anything.
I head into the station, praying it’s a busy shift so I won’t have time to stew over Isabel. Lucky runs into the engine bay, spots Master on a bench, and runs that direction. Master jumps into the closest turnout boot and hides until Lucky pokes his nose in, then swats at him. Lucky jumps back, just escaping Master’s claws. This is a familiar game. One they can play for hours, only today, it doesn’t feel the least bit entertaining.
Instead of going through the front door and the kitchen where I know everyone will be bullshitting and exchanging information about the prior shift, I go through the engine bay and dump my gear at my locker, then start my regular routine—safety checking my SCBA, then restocking the rig.
I’m thinking about a long run to flush out some of this edginess when Tucker and Cole come into the bay.
I stop what I’m doing and sit on the back steps of the rescue. “Did Isabel stay with you last night?”
“She and Maya shared my bed,” Tucker says, leaning against the side of engine three. “I still don’t know what she’s more upset about, lying about her life or fucking things up with you.”
Sure, guilt, jump on board. Settle your ass right between anger and hurt. Plenty of room.
“What difference does it make?” Tucker asks. “So she embellished her life a little. It’s nothing we haven’t done.”
I lift a brow.
“Using the firefighter angle to get chicks. We’ve all done it,” he says, spitting out examples. “The flames were a hundred feet high. We barely made it out alive. I got out of there seconds before the roof caved in. The Jaws nearly took my arm off. I grabbed one kid under each arm and ran like hell.”
“That’s all you, dickhead,” I tell him.
Tucker glances at Cole, who’s smirking.
“Okay, fine,” Tucker says, “maybe that is me. My point is that she’s still the same person who showed up here a little over a week ago, and you were into her then.”
“Has she lied to you since she’s been here?” Cole asks.
I want to say hell yes, but my memory isn’t coming up with any proof. “Lies by omission.”
“You sure about that?” Cole asks. “You’re not taking any responsibility for maybe creating your own interpretation with the information you had?”
I push to my feet. “I need a run.”
Tucker pushes me back to the step by the shoulder. “You told me you wouldn’t fuck her over.”
“She’s the one who created a life built on lies. How can I trust a woman who can’t shoot straight? Aren’t you the least bit bothered by the way she portrayed herself in New York? You came back bragging about something that didn’t even exist.”
“No, I’m not. It wasn’t my life, it wasn’t about me.”
“Well, this is my life. And it is about me.”
“Maybe you ought to consider other character traits before you throw in the towel,” Cole says. “Like her offering to make Natalie’s fucking wedding dress without taking a dime, and pitching in at the bakery when she has to drag her ass in there at an hour she finds ungodly.”
“She started renovating that shithole of a motel without being asked and without expecting anything in return,” Tucker says. “In fact, what has she ever asked for from you?”
I’m thinking about that and coming up empty—again—when Tucker goes on. “She sold out of all the designs she brought with her. She may not be in Bergdorf’s windows, but that doesn’t make her any less a designer. And she told you about fuck face.”
Great, Aiden again. “Only after I found out something was going on and hounded her about it.”
“But she didn’t lie, did she? If you’re going to make a case for lies by omission, you’re going to be looking just as bad as you’re making her out to be.”
“What does that mean?”
“You didn’t tell her about Emily,” Coles says. “She heard about it from Natalie. That could be considered a lie of omission.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not the same.”
“Maybe not, but it could have given her a heads-up about how touchy you’d be over lies,” Cole says.
“Why are you both trying to make this my fault?”
“Because it is,” Tucker yells. “You’re so fucking dense. And now we’re going to lose her. She’s got two job interviews tomorrow and the next day in LA and San Francisco. Thanks to you, she’ll probably take one, you dumb shit.”
A wash of cold spreads through my body. A splash of panic mixed with a whole lot of anger over something else I didn’t know. “What job interviews?”
The alarm sounds before I get an answer.
Tucker points at me. “We’re not done.”
I outweigh Tucker by twenty pounds, all muscle, but he’s got at least three inches on me and the fucker is goddamned intimidating when he wants to be. That might be because I’ve also seen him fight. And I’ve seen what the losers look like when he does.
On the way to the engines, Cole lags behind and stops as I open the rescue’s passenger door. “Hey, man, Isabel isn’t Emily. She’s not your mom either.” His tone is understanding and sober. “Emily manipulated you. Your mother was a head case. That’s not Isabel, and you know it. Think about it. Her lies were designed to keep her shit from spilling over onto others. She could have told us she was struggling, asked for money, or played us, but she stood proud and dealt with her own problems. It’s not her fault you’re so fucked up.”
“Asshole,” I bite out.
I climb in the rescue, and Bobby slides behind the wheel. I’m trying to sort out the knots inside me when Bobby says, “What’d you do to fire up Medina?”
The sirens sound excruciatingly loud today, and I rub my forehead. “Long, complicated story.”
I prop my elbow on the window ledge and rest my head in my hand. My mind fills with the feel of Isabel’s naked thigh sliding between mine, and heat scores my skin. Then the whisper of her lips touching my neck floats in, and my heart aches. But it still wears the shadow that descended after I left the police station last night.
My mind tells me it was the right thing to do. That her lack of honesty is a problem. Would continue to be a problem. But then there are the things Cole and Tucker pointed out. Things I’d thought of on my own, but which didn’t sway me back toward Isabel. It’s like I’ve already created a concrete block between us.
Sure, I’m pissed. Sure, I’m hurt. And yeah, I guess I consider us broken up. But the idea of her moving away is a whole different kind of finality. A finality that I guess I wasn’t quite ready for.
The entire eight minutes it takes to get to the mountain where climbers are stranded, I try to picture my life without her. Even though she’s only been back a short time, I realize my life took on a different light, a higher-pitched buzz. And dammit, I find myself caught between the fear of living with someone I can’t trust and living without someone I care about as much as I care about her.
Life just fuckin’ sucks sometimes.
Three hours and several broken bones later—for the patient, not me—I return to the firehouse to find Maya in the rec room, lounging in a chair, watching television, Master and Bates in her lap.
“Hey.” I wander into the living room, Lucky at my heels, and drop into the sofa. “What’s up?”
Lucky wags his whole body at the sight of Maya, but when he pops his paws on the arm of the chair, Bates gives a demon-like hiss that causes Lucky to seek refuge behind my legs.
“I’m leaving early,” she says.
“Why?”
She shrugs. “Bullshit at work.”
“When?”
“Later today. I’ll get an Uber to the airport.”
“Okay.” I’m disappointed I haven’t had a lot of time with her. “Sounds like you and Isabel mended fences.”
“Yeah.” She’s smiling in a way that makes me think of her as a teenager. “Basically, I decided not to hold her past mistakes against her and I forgave myself for the part I played in our breakup. It feels good.”
I nod, gritting my teeth with jealousy. I wish I could do that—just forgive her and believe it won’t happen again. Just forgive myself and move on.
“It’s that easy, you know,” she says.
“What?”
“Forgiving. We’re all human. We all make mistakes. All you have to do is let it go.”
A couple of volunteers are hanging in the kitchen, and I glance over my shoulder. “Can you give us a minute, guys?”
Once they head into the engine bay, I turn back to Maya. “Some of us make mistakes, and some of us make a habit of making mistakes.”
“I know Mom and Dad fucked us up, but they’re gone. Everything you do now is a choice.”
“If Isabel had lied about something that didn’t matter, sure, I might be able to let it go, but she lied about all the fundamental things that make a person who they are—where she works, what she does, what’s happening in other areas of her life, her relationships. I don’t have any idea who she really is.”
And I don’t know how to put my trust in someone like that.
“Look,” Maya says, “you can either forgive or you can’t. There’s no middle of the road. And Isabel deserves someone who can give his all, who can love completely, not only when she’s perfect, because we both know there is no perfect.”
Every nerve inside me is on fire. First Tucker and Cole, now Maya. “Jesus Christ, this is turning out to be a shitastic day.”
“You need to understand our career,” Maya says. “It’s creative, which also means it’s soul driven, and every step of the way, our peers are watching, just waiting for us to fail so they can rise into the lead. One of the reasons Isabel didn’t rise in the industry is because she’s sweet and she’s always giving—of her time, her talent, her knowledge. To do well means you have to be cutthroat. Isabel doesn’t have a cutthroat bone in her body.”
That rings true. She is sweet. She is giving. In fact, she’s often selfless. I love that warm side of her.
“She has everything she needs to make it in this industry,” Maya says. “Everything except the mean-girl streak.”
“You don't have it either, but you made it.”
“Oh, brother, you haven’t seen me at work.”
“What does that have to do with the lies?”
Maya shakes her head. “You really are dense.”
I push to my feet, angry that she’s right. I can’t connect the dots. “I’m going to take a shower. Let me know you got home safely.”
Maya stands and steps into my path, both cats cradled in one arm, the other hand against my chest. And her eyes are glittering mad. “Don’t dismiss me.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Because you know you’re wrong. You know you’re wrong, and you can’t stand to admit it.”
“None of this matters, anyway. She’ll take one of those jobs down south and disappear.”
“When did you get so pessimistic and rigid?”
“Maybe when Mom lied once too often and ended up in the morgue.”
“Are you going to use that as an excuse your whole life? There’s always an upside to every situation, but you have to be willing to see it. The upside of my childhood was watching you stand up for me and Mom. You didn’t care if you were going to get the beating he was planning for one of us. You always met the challenge head-on. You taught me to stand up for myself. And, honestly, I think that’s the reason I’ve done so well in this industry. Isabel may have had a shitty living situation, but it was shitty in a different way. And she’s a different person. What makes someone strong can make another person weak.”
“Isabel isn’t weak.”
“But she’s not me, is she?”
I don’t answer, because my mind is echoing Isabel’s “Because I’m not Maya” at the jail.
“And don’t pretend you don’t have secrets,” Maya says. “Things you don’t want other people to know.”
I look up and lift my hands.
“Emily,” is all she has to say.
“Fuck.”
“You didn’t tell me about it because it was embarrassing. Getting caught in the fake-baby situation makes you feel stupid and puts you in a vulnerable position. You have to choose whether to be weak and give in to Emily, maintaining the relationship out of guilt, or get your independence from Emily at the risk of being viewed as a heartless prick. How is that different from Isabel being ashamed of what she never accomplished? The one person you want to look good in front of is a guy you’re interested in. Isabel is a what-you-see-is-what-you-get girl. Whether she’s a millionaire or a fast-food clerk, she has the same heart she did as a kid. I, for one, am glad to see it.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to listen from here.” She smacks my chest. Then taps my head. “Not here. Your issues aren’t Isabel’s fault. Don’t punish her for what Mom did. Or what Emily did. Or what any other woman in your past did or didn’t do.”
She stands and hands over Master and Bates. “Think about it. I’d hate for you to miss out on an amazing woman. I’ll call you when I’m home.”
Even though I’m mad at her, I set the cats on the sofa and give her a hug, and long after she’s gone, my head is still pounding from all she said.