Page 21 of Playing With Fire
“Damn it, Evelyn,” Cass muttered again, her voice thick with frustration.
She pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. She didn’t know what to do with herself, didn’t know how to reconcile the war inside her. How could she keep fighting when every battle left her feeling like she was losing no matter the outcome?
Her fists clenched at her sides as she paced the room. She wasn’t angry at Evelyn, not really. She was angry at the situation, at the impossible choices they both had to make. She was angry at herself for letting her feelings get tangled up in the job, for caring too much about someone who was supposed to be her enemy.
But most of all, she was angry because she didn’t know how to fix it.
Cass stopped at the window, looking out at the city below. The streets were quiet, the glow of the streetlights casting long shadows. Somewhere out there, Evelyn was probably sitting at her desk, poring over more spreadsheets, trying to find another way to make the numbers work.
And Cass? She was here, alone in a conference room, wondering how they’d gotten to this point.
For the first time in her career, she didn’t feel like a leader, didn’t feel like she had the answers. She felt…lost.
As she stared out at the city, her shoulders slumped, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. She couldn’t keep doing this—not like this. Something had to give.
But she didn’t know what.
10
EVELYN
Evelyn stared blankly at the email on her computer screen, the neatly typed words blurring into an incomprehensible mess. She read them again, slower this time, as if giving them a second glance might somehow change their meaning. But the words remained the same, as cold and unyielding as the bureaucrats who had written them.
Directive from the City Finance Office: Effective immediately, the proposed reductions to staffing and equipment budgets for the Phoenix Ridge Fire Department must increase by 15%. Noncompliance will result in disciplinary action and a potential reassessment of departmental leadership.
Evelyn’s stomach churned as the weight of the mandate settled over her. She pushed back from her desk, clasping her hands tightly in her lap in an effort to still their trembling. She had been bracing for bad news, but this? This was worse than anything she’d imagined.
The fire department was already operating at the edge of what she considered sustainable. Further cuts meant forcing Cass and her team to work with fewer resources, fewer people,and an even greater strain on their morale. It meant making sacrifices that Evelyn knew would cost lives—not just in the distant, statistical sense, but in the gut-wrenching reality of a firefighter standing in the wrong place without backup or proper gear.
And it meant facing Cass.
Evelyn pressed her palms against her temples, willing the pounding in her head to subside. She had spent weeks trying to find ways to mitigate the damage, poring over spreadsheets late into the night and arguing with city officials about priorities. She’d thought she could navigate this without destroying what little trust she had begun to build with Cass. Now, that hope seemed laughable.
A knock at the door jolted her out of her thoughts. Her assistant, Grace, poked her head in, her expression wary. “Ms. Ford? Everything alright?”
Evelyn forced herself to sit up straighter, smoothing her hands over her skirt. “Fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “Just a lot to process.”
Grace hesitated. “If you need me to reschedule your afternoon?—”
“No,” Evelyn interrupted. “I’ll handle it.”
The door closed softly behind Grace, leaving Evelyn alone with the suffocating quiet of her office. She clenched her fists, staring at the screen as if she could will the email out of existence. But no amount of denial would change what she had to do.
Cass’s face swam into her mind, her fiery eyes and determined expression so vivid that it was almost as if she were in the room. Evelyn could practically hear her voice, sharp with frustration, accusing her of betrayal.
Evelyn buried her face in her hands. She didn’t want to think about Cass. About the way she had felt, lying in Cass’s arms theother night, their walls temporarily down. About the hope that had stirred in her chest, fragile and tentative, that maybe—just maybe—they could find a way to coexist. To be something more.
Evelyn leaned against the edge of her desk, staring at the stack of papers she’d brought with her to soften the blow, though she knew they’d do no such thing. She wasn’t naive; she knew exactly how Cass would react. Every clash they’d had over the past few weeks had only confirmed what Evelyn already suspected: Cass Harris didn’t just see arguments as professional disagreements. She took them personally, every single one. And this? This would feel like a betrayal.
It was in Cass’s nature, Evelyn supposed. She was fiercely loyal to her team, to her station, to the ideals she believed in. To Cass, this wasn’t just a fire department; it was her family, her legacy. Every decision Evelyn made was an attack on that, or at least that’s how Cass saw it. Every policy shift, every budget cut—it all landed like a personal insult, as if Evelyn were targeting her specifically instead of trying to balance the needs of an entire city.
Evelyn sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. She knew better than to expect Cass to see the bigger picture, but that didn’t make this any easier. It wasn’t just Cass’s anger she feared; it was the way it lingered, a slow burn that didn’t just die out after their arguments ended. Cass carried those feelings with her, letting them simmer just beneath the surface, fueling the next clash. And lately, Evelyn had felt that burn, too, though it ignited something far more complicated inside her—something she couldn’t allow herself to name.
This time, though, it would be different. This wasn’t a disagreement over protocol or priorities. This was about survival—the survival of the fire department, the city’s budget, and Evelyn’s own position. Cass wouldn’t care about the reasons orthe pressures Evelyn was under; she’d see it as proof that Evelyn didn’t care about what mattered most.
And yet, Evelynhadto do it. There was no alternative. The weight of that reality pressed down on her like a leaden hand, the familiar pressure of duty clashing with the unfamiliar ache of knowing how much this would hurt someone she was starting to care about more than she should.
When Evelyn finally arrived at the firehouse that afternoon, she felt like she was walking into enemy territory. The usual hum of activity seemed muted, the weight of her impending conversation settling over the space like a storm cloud.