Page 23 of Playing With Fire
And it’s my fault.
She couldn’t look at the mirror without seeing the truth staring back at her. Cass had trusted her. She had opened herself up, even when Evelyn had been nothing but cold and distant. She had given her all, all while Evelyn had been playing the role of the consultant, the outsider, the one who had to push through no matter the cost. Evelyn had pretended it was all part of the job. But it wasn’t. Not really. She had let herself be swept up in something she wasn’t prepared to handle. And now, everything was falling apart because of it.
Cass had made her choice. She’d drawn a line in the sand and told Evelyn that she couldn’t be a part of this mess anymore. It was the logical conclusion, wasn’t it? The breakup had been inevitable. And yet, Evelyn’s chest ached with the raw, hollow emptiness left in the wake of Cass’s departure. She had never felt so utterly alone.
I never should have let her in.
She wanted to scream, to do something—anything—to make it right again. But there was nothing to be done. Cass was right. She couldn’t expect her to understand. The decisions Evelyn had to make weren’t personal; they couldn’t be. But that didn’t matter. Cass had seen it that way. She’d taken everything personally, and Evelyn hadn’t been strong enough to stop herself from letting it hurt.
Now there was nothing left. Just an empty home, a hollow ache in her chest, and the bitter taste of regret that Evelyn couldn’t wash away.
For the first time in a long time, Evelyn felt the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to fall apart now.
Cass’s words echoed in her mind, sharp and unforgiving. “I can’t trust you.”
Evelyn closed her eyes, the ache in her chest spreading until it felt like it might consume her. She had always prided herself on her ability to remain composed under pressure, to make tough decisions without letting her emotions cloud her judgment.
But now, for the first time, Evelyn wasn’t sure if she could.
11
CASS
Cass sat at her desk, the hum of the firehouse around her barely registering. The shift had started like any other, routine and predictable, yet everything felt off. She hadn’t been able to focus on anything since the argument with Evelyn. No matter how hard she tried to pour herself into the work, the weight of everything that had happened pressed on her chest. It was like a constant, suffocating ache that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.
The day had been long, with multiple calls and briefings. The usual banter among the crew seemed distant, as if Cass were watching it all unfold through a fogged window instead of participating in it. She hadn’t been able to connect with anyone—not the team, not Hallie, and definitely not Evelyn. It was like she was suspended in an emotional void, a place where nothing felt real anymore.
Her phone buzzed on the table, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. Hallie’s name flashed across the screen, and Cass couldn’t help but sigh before answering.
“Hey,” Cass said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Cass, you okay?” Hallie’s voice was warm, concerned. There was a quiet understanding in it, the kind only a close friend could have.
Cass forced a smile, though Hallie couldn’t see it through the phone. “Yeah. Just…tired. Long shift.”
Hallie didn’t buy it. There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Hallie spoke again, her voice quieter now, softer. “You’ve been distant. I get it. But you don’t have to go through this alone.”
“I’m fine,” Cass replied, a little too quickly. She could feel the familiar defensive wall rising inside her, blocking out anything resembling vulnerability.
“Cass, come on. I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s wrong. And you can’t keep bottling everything up. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to hide it from me,” Hallie said gently, her concern clear.
But Cass only felt more closed off. She didn’t want to talk about it—didn’t want to admit the ache in her chest, the way her thoughts had been consumed by Evelyn ever since the breakup. The way she hadn’t been able to get the image of Evelyn’s eyes—shocked, devastated, cold—out of her head. The way every part of her wanted to reach out, to apologize, to fix what was broken, but pride and anger kept her rooted in place.
“I’m fine, Hallie,” Cass repeated, her voice firm despite the storm brewing inside her. “I’ll talk to you later.”
The line went quiet as Hallie hesitated, sensing the finality in Cass’s tone. “Okay,” Hallie said after a moment, her voice a soft whisper. “But remember, I’m here if you change your mind.”
Cass ended the call quickly, the weight of Hallie’s words hanging heavy in the air. She didn’t want to admit it, but Hallie was right. Something was wrong. And no matter how hard she tried to bury it, it kept resurfacing. The image of Evelyn—the wayshe’d looked after their argument, the way she’d seemed so hurt by Cass’s words—had become a permanent fixture in her mind.
It wasn’t just the breakup that had torn her apart. It was everything that came with it. Cass had told herself that she had to choose between the firehouse and Evelyn, that one of them would have to go. And now she was left with nothing. Her team was at risk, the future of the department uncertain, and the one person who had made her feel something deeper than duty was no longer a part of her life.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something. But instead, Cass buried herself in her work, throwing herself into training schedules, fire drills, and endless paperwork that never seemed to end. It was easier to focus on something tangible, something she could control. And maybe, just maybe, it would help her forget the wreckage of her own heart.
The days passed in a blur of routine. The firehouse felt emptier without the usual energy, without the tension that had sparked so much between her and Evelyn. Cass tried to push the lingering thoughts of Evelyn out of her mind, but they crept in at the most unexpected moments. During a briefing. While prepping for a call. When she was alone in her office, sitting at her desk. Evelyn’s face haunted her—unbidden, unwelcomed, but undeniable.
The memories—their heated arguments, the passion that had simmered between them, the vulnerability they had both shared in their moments of closeness—only made her feel worse. She had pushed Evelyn away. She had been angry, hurt, and too stubborn to see the whole picture. And now, there was a part of her that regretted it.
But regret didn’t change anything.