Page 20 of Playing With Fire
But even as the argument escalated, something felt different. The usual fire that surged through Cass when she clashed with Evelyn wasn’t there. Instead, every sharp word, every pointed glare felt like a blow to her chest.
Evelyn’s lips parted, ready with another retort, but her gaze flickered over Cass’s face, and for a split second, something softened. “I’m not your enemy, Cass,” she said, her voice quieter now, though still firm. “I’m trying to find a way to make this work—for everyone.”
Cass’s anger faltered, replaced by a hollow ache she couldn’t ignore. She sank back into her chair, the fight draining out of her. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.
The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. Evelyn glanced around, seeming to sense the shift in the atmosphere. She straightened, her professional mask slipping back into place like armor.
“We’ll reconvene in a week,” Evelyn said briskly, gathering her papers. “Take the time to review the proposals and come prepared with constructive feedback.”
One by one, the other captains filed out of the room, some offering Cass sympathetic pats on the shoulder, others avoidingher gaze entirely. Evelyn lingered by the door, her expression unreadable.
Cass didn’t look at her. She couldn’t.
When the room was empty except for the two of them, Evelyn hesitated. “Cass?—”
“Don’t,” Cass said, cutting her off. Her voice was flat, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. “Just…don’t.”
Evelyn didn’t respond. After a long moment, the soft click of the door signaled her departure.
Cass leaned back in her chair, staring at the empty room. She’d won plenty of arguments in her life, but this didn’t feel like winning. It felt like losing something she wasn’t sure she even had to begin with.
Her hands trembled as she rubbed her face, exhaustion pulling at her from every angle. She thought back to Becky’s advice, to the firehouse, to Evelyn’s lips against hers the night before. Every thought tangled together, creating a storm she couldn’t control.
For the first time in her career, Cass felt like she was fighting a battle she couldn’t win—not because she wasn’t strong enough, but because she wasn’t sure which side she was supposed to be on anymore.
Cass sat slumped in her chair, the long table of the conference room stretching out in front of her like a chasm. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glare on the scattered papers and empty coffee cups left behind after the meeting. She stared at the spreadsheet in front of her, the columns and rows blurring into meaningless lines of text and numbers. Evelyn’s voice still echoed in her head, calm and unyielding as she’d made her case for reallocating funds to other city initiatives.
The room was silent now, but Cass could still feel the tension hanging in the air, like smoke after a fire. Her chest ached,not from anger, but from something heavier, something she couldn’t shake no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.
It wasn’t personal; she knew that. Evelyn wasn’t doing this to hurt her, wasn’t trying to dismantle the fire department out of spite or malice. If anything, Evelyn had gone out of her way to soften the blow of every cut, to find compromises that kept the department afloat. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Cass leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “Damn it,” she muttered to herself.
Their latest argument had been over something seemingly small—a line item in the budget for overtime pay. Cass had fought tooth and nail to protect it, arguing that the department relied on those funds to cover emergencies and to keep the team running when they were stretched thin. Evelyn had countered with her usual pragmatism, pointing out that the city simply didn’t have the money to spare.
And so they’d gone back and forth, their voices rising, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. But this time, when the argument had ended and the others had filed out of the room, Cass hadn’t felt the usual rush of righteous indignation, the fire that fueled her to fight harder for her team.
Instead, she’d felt…empty.
Her gaze drifted to the now empty chair where Evelyn had been sitting. Cass could still picture her there, her posture straight, her hands clasped in front of her, her expression cool and composed. She’d barely raised her voice, but her words had cut through the room like a knife, precise and unrelenting.
Cass exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. It wasn’t just the argument that was getting to her. It was the fact that every clash with Evelyn seemed to take a piece of her, leaving her more drained than the last.
Because it wasn’t just a fight about money or resources. It was Evelyn.
The same woman who had held her in her arms not long ago, who had kissed her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. The same woman whose laughter had filled Cass’s office late at night, whose touch had made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
And now they were here, on opposite sides of the table, their words sharp and cutting. Every argument felt like a betrayal, not because of what was being said, but because of who was saying it.
Cass dropped her head into her hands, her elbows braced on the table. “Why does this have to be so damn hard?” she whispered to no one.
She wanted to hate Evelyn in moments like this. It would be easier if she could. If she could convince herself that Evelyn was just another bureaucrat, another obstacle to overcome. But she couldn’t. Because she knew Evelyn. She knew the woman who stayed up late poring over spreadsheets, trying to find solutions that worked for everyone. She knew the woman who carried the weight of the city on her shoulders, who took on the role of villain because someone had to.
But knowing didn’t make it hurt less.
Cass stared at the table, her jaw tightening. She thought about her team—about Hallie, about Sara, about all the firefighters who relied on her to stand up for them, to fight for what they needed. She thought about Chief Thompson, who had trusted her to protect the department, to carry on the legacy she’d built.
And then she thought about Evelyn, about the way she’d looked at her during the argument. There had been something in her eyes, a flicker of something Cass couldn’t quite recognize. Regret, maybe? Sadness? Or maybe Cass was just imaginingit, projecting her own emotions onto someone who had never shown anything but resolve.