Alternate PoV - Mia Sharpe (Dancing in the Flames) (Patreon)

Hey, all! (there is a very long bit of text in this post, and a pdf attached, for warning) So, last month I'd asked you what different point

Hey, all! (there is a very long bit of text in this post, and a pdf attached, for warning)

So, last month I'd asked you what different points of view you might want to see, and several people were in agreement that they'd like to see something from Mia Sharpe, from Down to A Science.

And the thing is, I've very much wanted to write something from Mia's point of view, for a long time!

When writing DtAS, I had to keep it short, as it was part of a novella collection. And if I have to keep a story short... I have to stick to one pov, and Ellie's felt like the right story to tell.

But Mia has a lot going on, under the surface. I imagine she's the most mysterious of all main characters in the HCLU, and so - here you go!

---------------------Dancing in the Flames (Mia PoV)-------------------------

Mia Sharpe would always remember the very first time she walked into The Witching Hour, because it was also the first time she saw Ellie Beckett.

She’d barely been in Boston for a week, and she was still trying to find her footing, to settle into this place as her new normal.

It had been a slow roll to adjust to the move; honestly, it was taking longer than Mia had thought it would. After all, Mia wasn’t what she thought of as someone who took a while to put down roots.

In all actuality, Mia was fairly root-less, and had been for over a decade.

After moving from Texas to California, she’d adjusted in a snap. The sunny, warm weather had felt familiar to her, and she’d been thrilled to be able to truly feel like she was starting fresh.

Moving to Massachusetts… well, it didn’t make her feel like she was starting fresh. It made her feel like she was running.

Then again, Mia supposed a part of her often felt like she was running.

But as Roberta – her therapist – loved to remind Mia: you can’t outrun your past.

Mia could try, though. She could really, really try.

“Hey, Sharpe!” Mat Flores called as she walked out of the women’s barracks, a broad grin on his face. He was their lead paramedic at Station Seven, and had made a point of approaching her as soon as she’d arrived yesterday, at the start of their twenty-four hour shift.

Going into this career, Mia had known from the start that it was going to be male-dominated. In fact, she’d been the only female firefighter on every one of her crews. At both this station and her last station in L.A., there were other women that worked at the station, but never on her crew.

And, truthfully, that was fine with Mia. It didn’t matter who she worked with, as long as they weren’t assholes. Mostly, because Mia didn’t make it a point to embed herself in the personal lives of her coworkers, and she wanted the same respect back. She’d happily work alongside the guys, most of whom never dug much into her personal life.

She was always hyper-alert, however, whenever she was meeting new coworkers. Sexist, misogynistic bullshit was everywhere. And due to her stature and femme-presentation, she’d gotten her fair amount of shit over the years. Enough to be wary.

So far, Flores seemed like a good egg. They were only one shift in, though, so Mia was still reserving judgment.

She turned to look at him as he pushed himself off from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “Hey, Flores.”

“Everyone is wondering if you want to grab a drink or something? Chat a bit, get to know each other better?”

“And… we don’t think we’ll be able to get to know one another while working together in full twenty-four hour shifts?” Even though she did mean it, her tone was teasing.

Sure, she wanted to maintain her privacy, and she didn’t make it a point to hang out with her coworkers outside of work very often, but it was also her first shift here, and it felt nice. It was nice to know that the respect and kindness that had been shown to her today on her new engine hadn’t simply been some sort of smokescreen to lull her into comfort on her first day; nice to know that the guys seemed to genuinely want to extend her an invite with them, rather than exclude her.

She’d had to work to get accepted into the inner-group at her last station, and it had kinda sucked.

Flores shrugged, knocking playfully into her shoulder. “I don’t know what boring-ass city you’re from–” he winked, clearly remembering very well that she’d transferred from a very active firehouse in a major city, “– but it’s very rare for us to have a shift without answering multiple calls. When we get a newbie on our shift, it’s a wise idea to do something out of work for a guaranteed bonding experience. Plus, everyone from shift one is meeting us there – they want to meet you, too. I think you’ll like them.”

Mia couldn’t argue with that.

Besides, waiting for her at home was an apartment filled with half-unpacked boxes, largely still unfurnished. She’d let Kristin keep most of their furniture back in L.A. – for multiple reasons. One, Mia hadn’t wanted to make the arrangements to move it cross-country. Two, Mia did enjoy hunting for individual pieces of furniture, things that were unique, things that told a story.

Three – and most of all – the furniture she shared with Kristin were a physical reminder of Mia’s memories with Kristin.

She loved furniture that told a story, but she didn’t want to look around her new apartment and be reminded of all of the old stories she’d helped write. She didn’t want to look at their old bedframe and think about the nights they’d spent together in it.

She definitely didn’t want to be haunted by their kitchen table. Where they’d been sitting when Mia had opened the conversation about getting engaged, her laptop open to different real estate websites to browse potential homes for when they would move to Boston together.

Where they’d been sitting when Kristin had stared at those same real estate websites like a deer in headlights. Where they’d been sitting when Kristin had slowly turned to Mia and haltingly told her, “We – I can’t do this.”

That she didn’t want to move together. That, “I thought I was excited about the Boston contract because it was a new, exciting place. But, now that it’s barreling toward us, I’m not sure I want to leave. I think… Mia, I’m so, so sorry. But I think… I was excited by the prospect of starting over completely new.”

Mia still hadn’t been following. She hadn’t known exactly what Kristin had been saying until Kristin had grabbed at Mia’s hands, squeezing with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even want to be without you! I just – we’ve been together for over five years. I met you when I’d just graduated college! How do I know, really, if what I thought I wanted at twenty-two is what I’m going to want forever? I’ve never really known anything else!”

Finally, it had dawned on Mia, and her heart felt like it had been ripped right out of her chest. Really, she felt like she couldn’t breathe, as she’d stared blindly at Kristin. “And by what you wanted at twenty-two, you mean… me. You mean that you’ve never known another relationship,” Mia had clarified, her voice devoid of any emotion.

How could she summon any emotion, when she couldn’t even summon oxygen?

And how could she summon surprised, when the reality was, on some deeply buried level, she’d always been waiting for this moment. For the moment that Kristin voiced Mia’s deepest fear – that she wasn’t enough.

Yeah.

She’d rather have an empty apartment than be reminded of all of that.

And she’d definitely rather go out than go home and be left alone to her thoughts. The break-up with Kristin had only happened a few weeks ago, and it was definitely fresh enough to pop up, unbidden, in Mia’s mind far too often.

“So, where are we going?”

By the time they walked into the dingy little pub an hour later, Mia was already glad she’d decided to come out with the guys.

They were funny – a little loud, a little bawdy – but they’d been sharing nonstop amusing stories since they’d left the station.

“I can’t believe Tommy’s was closed! Since when is Tommy’s ever closed?!” Cole – though, he’d informed her that due to the nature of their job, his kids spelled his name Coal – lamented as they walked through the doors.

Apparently, Tommy’s was the closest bar to the station, and the one that the crew regularly grabbed a drink at following a shift. Mia knew this, because that’s where they’d attempted to start their evening.

“Since they’re getting some roof repairs,” Flores scoffed back. “As the sign said. They’re going to be open again in three days; you’re acting like it’s the end of the world!”

Mia laughed as Flores shot her an exaggerated look that read, can you believe this guy?

Mia paused as soon as she entered, scanning the establishment. It was something she’d started doing whenever she went anywhere new since… well, the fire. At this point, over ten years later, it was a habit she couldn’t break.

She needed to make sure there were no glaringly obvious safety violations – no foundational cracks, no exposed wiring, no water leaks near any electrical surfaces.

She couldn’t help herself. Still, she had the echo of Kristin’s voice in her ear, groaning and telling Mia that everything is fine, you aren’t here as their safety inspector, as she’d started doing when her patience for Mia’s safety inspections expired.

In the beginning of their relationship, she’d seemed to find it cute. By the end, she’d been exasperated and frustrated.

But everything looked good. For a dive, this place actually looked –

Mia’s gaze was stolen from her routine inspection of the bar across the room, to land on the woman with the curly blonde hair in the stool farthest to the corner. Those curls, falling down the woman’s back in a style that was just on the right side of messy – very, very attractively so – pulled her attention like a moth to a flame.

She had a tumbler of amber liquid in front of her, half empty, and she was turned just enough to lock eyes with Mia. Only briefly – so briefly – before she cut her gaze back to the bar.

Blinking herself out of it, she finished her cursory look, before turning back to the firehouse crew.

They’d all had a long discussion about the best first drink to have after a long shift on the way over, so Mia knew the draft orders for everyone, already.

“First round’s on me,” she offered, already starting to walk toward the bar before anyone could argue.

It was just good manners, really.

Plus… the woman was there.

Even though Mia had vague intentions of getting on some dating apps and slowly re-introducing herself to the dating world – in a clearly communicated non-serious manner – in the next few weeks, as soon as she was settled in, this was the first time since her breakup that she’d actually seen another woman.

She strutted forward across the bar as if pulled in by the woman at the bar.

Really, she just wanted a closer look.

She wanted a closer look at that tumble of curls. She wanted to know whatever it was that this woman was drinking. She just – wanted a look.

Mia found herself walking off to the side of the bar that the woman was sitting on rather than walking toward the middle, even though there was clearly enough space for her to approach there.

She caught herself before she walked too close – close enough to invade this woman’s personal space – maintaining a polite stool-distance between them.

But, yeah. Wow.

Those curls were a honey blonde and looked soft to the touch. The woman had clearly dragged her hand through her hair and so that the majority of those luscious curls were askew to one side.

Rather than meet Mia’s gaze, the way she had a minute ago, the woman’s entire focus was now centered on the notebook laying on the bar in front of her.

Unfortunately, Mia wasn’t in the game of prying into people’s personal lives, so she didn’t stare at the scrawled notes on the page, even though something inside of her itched to know.

The woman kept her stare intently down at the notebook as Mia wrapped her hands lightly around the back of the stool next to her.

“Hey, can I ask what you’re drinking?” The words left her before she could shut them down.

But, she reasoned, Mia really did enjoy a good whiskey or bourbon, and she’d bet her life that was what this woman was having. Besides, Mia had no problem walking up to anyone in a bar or a restaurant or a club – anytime, anywhere – and making conversation, getting a good drink or food recommendation.

She knew that the woman heard her, because she could see the way her shoulders froze as soon as Mia spoke.

And she found herself leaning a few inches in, excited for the answer.

Only to deflate as she realized… she maybe wasn’t going to get that answer? The woman didn’t so much as glance at her.

What was that about?

Mia glanced around, wondering – maybe the woman didn’t realize Mia was talking to her?

She scooched in a little closer, still making sure not to touch the woman, to give her a little space, but close enough that it had to be clear who Mia was directing her question to.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry,” she started again. “Just – your drink. What is it?”

The woman froze again, clear goosebumps working over the visible skin of her arms. Mia’s eyebrows lifted – had she come too close to her?

Finally, the woman turned to look at her.

Mia nearly took a step back at the sight of her eyes. They were a wide, gorgeous tawny hazel, and even more – they were so, so intense. As soon as this woman looked at her, Mia had the ridiculous urge to scurry back to her crew, sans any drinks. Like this woman was looking at her and seeing every shade of her.

“Me?” She asked, sounding utterly confounded by the very idea of Mia approaching her.

Her voice was so… clear. Sounding somehow full, cutting through the din of the bar in that single syllable.

Relief slid through Mia, then, because whew. She hadn’t been a total dick to the woman by repeatedly asking her about her drink; she really hadn’t known that Mia had been talking to her!

She grinned, joking, “Unless you’d prefer for me to fuck off; that’s fine, too.”

The woman’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, as she tilted her head at Mia… and didn’t say anything.

Oh, shit.

Maybe… she had known Mia was addressing her? Maybe she really just didn’t want to be spoken to?

Slowly, she felt her grin fall away, her stomach clenching uncomfortably; the last thing she wanted to do was make the pretty woman in the bar feel uncomfortable or irritated.

“Got it. Sorry.” She winced. “I’ll go order over there,” she jerked her head to vaguely reference the middle area, where she was certain most people approached for their drinks.

Wow. It might have been a while since Mia approached a woman in a bar romantically, but she’d approached dozens and dozens of people to make friendly conversation, and had never read every signal as incorrectly as she was apparently reading this woman. Yikes.

Maybe it was an east coast thing? She wondered, as she took a step back, starting to turn away.

“It’s a Widow Jane,” that even-toned, distinct voice said from behind her, stopping her dead in her tracks.

Still, she didn’t turn around again just yet, wondering if she should just keep going. If this woman was just telling her so that Mia really would walk away.

“Bourbon,” she murmured, realizing a beat later that the woman had said the same word at the same time.

Cautiously, Mia turned around once more to face her. The woman’s mouth – her lush lips – was drawn into a tight line, her cheeks turning pink. Fascinating.

So… perhaps the woman was cautious of strangers? Mia understood that.

“Awesome. I thought that’s what you were drinking, but I wasn’t sure.” Mia heaved a shrug, re-tucking her hands into her back pockets. She wanted this woman to know that she wasn’t going to invade her space again.

And still, the woman’s eyes remained on her with that fierce intensity. She knew without a doubt that this woman saw every minute move Mia made, and something about that hooked onto something inside of her, drawing out more words.

“I really like something when I can just sip on it? I’m kind of always looking for the single perfect drink when I go out,” she explained, wondering why she was telling this facet of herself to this woman.

It was the truth; much like a good piece of furniture, Mia didn’t ever want to settle on a drink for the purpose of just throwing it back. Generally, she wanted to find something good. To take her time and decide what it was she was in the mood for.

Another thing Kristin had sometimes been annoyed by, lamenting that she never knew what to grab Mia at the bar, because she didn’t have a regular order, like all of Kristin’s friends.

A little self-conscious by that memory, she offered a small smile. “Trust me, I know it’s stupid.”

The woman searched her face, staring up at her from her seat as she slowly tapped her pen against her notebook. Maybe she was just… quiet, Mia thought, then.

She definitely wasn’t slow to process, Mia could tell. She could see it on this woman’s face, that her brain didn’t miss a single thing.

Finally, the woman responded, and Mia felt her heart still, wanting to know what, exactly, what it was she’d decided to say. “If, uh, you want bourbon, they also have a really good Maker’s Mark 46.”

As soon as she’d voiced the words, she diverted her attention back down to the notebook in front of her. Which – maybe? – Mia should take as a sign that the conversation was done, but she felt ridiculously, inexplicably, drawn in. Wanting to say more.

Like – how often did this woman come here? Was a some sort of bourbon connoisseur?

Before she could ask anything, though, the bartender approached, tossing a dishtowel over her shoulder as she asked, “Can I help you?”

The bartender glanced quickly at the blonde, as if checking in with her, before moving her gaze back to Mia.

It was only when Mia realized she, too, was staring at the side of the woman’s face – no longer completely visible, as the long curtain of soft curls blocked her from view… though it was no less appealing to look at those curls – that she turned back to the bartender.

Who was looking at her with raised, knowing eyebrows.

“Yeah, sorry,” Mia coughed, before she ordered the list of drinks for the crew from her memory. She paused, getting to her own drink, as she darted her eyes back to the blonde. “And a glass of the Widow Jane, neat.”

The mystery blonde shrugged her shoulders up, still not looking up at Mia again.

The bartender moved quickly, arranging the drinks on a tray before Mia even realized it. So quickly, she was almost disappointed; the blonde hadn’t looked back up at her again, and Mia got the sense that she’d used all of her communication passes tonight.

So, she breathed a quiet sigh as she heaved the tray up. “Thanks for the rec,” she murmured before leaving.

“Yeah,” the woman – surprisingly – responded back, softly, shrugging. And still, she didn’t look at Mia again.

Mia wouldn’t say that interaction went amazingly well, but something about it made her buzz. Made her walk back to her table with a little more enthusiasm than she’d had, earlier in the evening.

“Drinks are served,” she announced, putting the tray down and receiving jaunty cheers.

“Who’s the cutie at the bar?” Flores asked, as he gestured to the chair at the end of the booth, which he’d clearly pulled over for her, but hadn’t turned to face the table.

Rolling with it, Mia slung her leg over the chair and settled in, reaching for her bourbon, as she cast another glance over her shoulder. “Uh… just a woman with good taste in drinks.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah? You think I have a chance?”

She couldn’t help the snort. “Look, if you want to be shot down really, really hard, you should go for it.”

Somehow, Mia had no doubts as to how it would play out if some confident guy walked up to the blonde. In fact, Mia was sure it would go even worse than her own interaction had.

Flores put his hand over his chest. “Ahhh, I’m already wounded by your comment; I don’t think my heart could take it from her.”

Mia laughed, tracing her fingertip over her glass.

Maybe that interaction hadn’t gone well, but she felt heartened by it.

If nothing else, she was attracted to that blonde.

Throwing another considering look over her shoulder, she sighed as she felt a warm rush pulse through her. Yes, she was very, very attracted to her.

And that was a great sign. It might even be exactly what Mia needed.

***

Even though her coworkers were devoted to Tommy’s for their after-work drinks, Mia found herself returning to The Witching Hour.

She liked the atmosphere, and she’d double-checked all of the health and safety inspections from the city for the last five years – all coming back in excellent standing.

Plus, she really liked that her coworkers didn’t frequent the pub.

As she started to settle into her new life, she found that she enjoyed her engine crew. But she also found herself wanting to keep some boundaries between work and personal life.

And, over the course of the next few months, Mia doggedly decided to have a personal life.

It started with creating a profile on SapphicSpark, an app she hadn’t ever been on, before.

After all, true to Kristin’s word, they’d met nearly six years ago, and they’d met in person. Mia hadn’t needed to use an app or date throughout most of her twenties.

She was excited to find that she wasn’t half bad at it, though.

Then again, Mia had never been bad at the superficial. Making conversation, going out to try new restaurants, getting temporary comfort… she liked it.

Actually, she found that she liked it a lot.

She also found that she enjoyed bringing her dates to The Witching Hour. Mostly because Mia did find it very comfortable, there. By now, she knew the bartender by name – Megan – and she knew that the general clientele was very… relaxed.

It was a great vibe.

She explained as much to Lina, the woman she was on her current date with, as they stood in the back near Mia’s usual booth, near the dart board as they were in the middle of a game.

“Yeah?” Lina asked, smiling down at Mia, teasingly. “You like the vibe?”

“I do!” She defended, holding her hands up in the universal defensive gesture. “It’s casual, relaxed. Clean. Good music. I like it.”

“And you like the blonde at the bar,” Lina teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

Immediately, Mia felt her cheeks burn, as she instinctively looked over at the corner of the bar.

She was there, of course. Mia came to the pub to hang out at least two or three times a week, and the blonde was there almost every single time.

She was the first thing Mia noticed, every time she walked through the door. Even if she was with a date. It was impossible not to notice her.

She’d cut her hair, so those tousled curls hung around her shoulders. Mystery Blonde liked to draw her hand through her hair as she stared down intently at her notebook or at a physical book or at her laptop – she was always doing something over there at the bar. And those curls would be drawn to the side, out of her face but still untamable.

She was always sipping on something different – it didn’t seem she had a regular order, either. Mia really, really liked that.

Mia had learned that it really hadn’t been a personal thing, though, that this woman hadn’t given her the time of day. Mystery Blonde didn’t give anyone – save for Megan, the only person she’d ever seen Mystery Blonde talk to and laugh with… and her laugh really did transform her already ridiculously gorgeous face into something… mesmerizing.

Dragging her gaze back to Lina, she rolled her eyes – hard. “Well, she’s gorgeous for sure, but I don’t even know her name.”

Lina held up her hands, that flirty smile on her mouth. “Hey, no judgment. You know my situation.”

Mia did know Lina’s situation – in a non-monogamous relationship with two primary partners. Which, truthfully, was great for Mia in her current stage of life.

Her breakup with Kristin was officially over two months in the past, and Mia was at the point where she was enjoying dating. She’d felt a little rusty on the first couple of dates, but she’d found the rhythm.

The rhythm where it was fun. Flirting and bantering and laughing. Just enough conversation to keep things exciting, but never too deep. She made sure to discuss her situation with every potential date right from the get-go – just out of a very serious long-term relationship, new to the area, just looking to meet some people and have fun.

Thus far, it was working out very well for her. A handful of dates, some dinners, some drinks, some nice strolls through different neighborhoods, some sex, and then it was over.

“I do know your situation,” Mia acknowledged, stepping forward slowly and backing Lina against the wall. She tilted her head up, as a grin slid over her face. “And that situation is very, very lucky for me. So we can enjoy our brief moment in time, together.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Lina breathed back, her mouth curving into an answering smile only seconds before Mia rocked up onto her tiptoes to kiss her.

Yes. She really was settling into life on the east coast.

***

Mia wasn’t on a date when she decided: she really did need to officially meet Mystery Blonde.

It had been about three months since their first encounter – if Mia could even call it that. She was almost convinced that Mystery Blonde wouldn’t even remember her, but she couldn’t shake the hunch that she really believed Mystery Blonde saw, processed, and remembered just about everything.

She always had that look on her face. Like, she was quiet but that she was always thinking.

Thinking about what? Mia didn’t know.

What she did know was that Mystery Blonde rarely came to the pub with anyone else at her side. She’d never seen it, personally, but she couldn’t exactly say never, because Mia knew their paths didn’t always cross.

She knew that Mystery Blonde was always working on… something. On what? Mia didn’t have a clue. But she always had books and a laptop and a notebook. She always had a crease between her eyebrows, which were often furrowed, as she stared down at whatever she was doing with such intensity. Mia would almost guess that – with all of that research and that focus – Mystery Blonde was curing freaking cancer or something.

Then again, she imagined that someone curing cancer wouldn’t be doing it while sitting at a barstool in The Witching Hour.

Not only did Mystery Blonde not have a “regular” order, but Mia knew that she seemed to order drinks purely to enjoy them. Not once had she gotten drunk while sitting over at the bar, not while Mia was there. It was like she was here to sit, have a single drink, and think.

Mia was also pretty certain that Mystery Blonde looked at Mia a lot, too. Maybe not as much as Mia glanced at her – because it was, admittedly… a lot. But they’d caught eyes more than once.

Of course, every time it happened, Mystery Blonde immediately looked away with a frown.

The thing was, she found Mystery Blonde absolutely undeniably fascinating. Who was she? What was she doing here? What was she working on?!

Mia had only ever attempted to slide the question in Megan’s direction once, lightly fishing for info.

Their mutual bartender hadn’t taken the bait, however, and had merely lifted an amused eyebrow at Mia. The look on her face was all-too knowing. Mia didn’t ask again.

And yet, in spite of her interest, Mia didn’t approach Mystery Blonde again after that first night.

Not because of any reservations on her end; Mia was reasonably sure she could chat with just about anyone.

But because the reality was that Mystery Blonde gave off the distinct air that she did not want to be bothered. She also gave off the impression that she would view anyone interrupting her time alone as a bother.

Mia could respect that.

She didn’t want to respect it, but she did.

Which was why she didn’t decide to throw caution to the wind until December.

When she was tucked away in her back corner booth, nursing a seasonal IPA – a little game Mia had taken to was ordering the same drink as Mystery Blonde, as it seemed they both had similar tastes – as she decompressed from the shift she’d just gotten off of.

The incredibly obnoxious group of frat guys that were taking up all of the residence at the pool tables were infringing on her decompression time, unfortunately.

Mia didn’t own this establishment. Mia had no right to tell people what to do, especially in a public place, where they weren’t causing any actual, physical harm.

“Oh my god,” she quietly groaned to herself, dropping her forehead into her hand, as she cut the group another glare.

Sure, they hadn’t caused any physical harm, but they were literally yelling, obnoxiously cat-calling, had bragged to one another about who they’d fucked throughout this past semester, and Mia didn’t know if she’d ever encountered a more irritating group of people.

Added to that, Mia had only been here for thirty minutes, and she’d already seen them hustle two people at pool. Which, fine, it wasn’t a crime, but – they were annoying the fuck out of her!

She’d decided that if they weren’t clearing out by the time she finished her beer, she was going to have to walk over and do… something. There was not a single patron in this place that was enjoying their company, based on the grimaces and glares thrown in their oblivious direction.

Mia snapped her head up when she heard – somehow, over everything else – the sound of a book slamming closed. Her ears perked up at the sound, most likely because she knew who it was.

Who else would have a thick book in the bar to slam closed?!

Mystery Blonde swiveled on her stool to glare at the men, and that withering glare was so fucking impressive, it made Mia sit at attention. Oh?

Mystery Blonde set her jaw, before she slid off of her stool and walked over to the pool tables.

Mia was unreasonably riveted, as she moved to sit at the edge of her booth. One, because she wanted an uninterrupted view, and two, because she wanted to be ready to jump in and assist, if needed.

The guys shoved at one another as Mystery Blonde approached, making ohhh sounds. Before the one that Mia had designated mentally as the ringleader stepped up. “Can I help you?”

He spun his pool cue in circles in a way that Mia was sure he thought made him look cool, when in reality, he looked like the biggest fucking tool.

“I want a game,” Mystery Blonde informed him, nodding at the table.

Mia lifted her eyebrows, her interest growing.

Also… yeah, she really, really, enjoyed Mystery Blonde’s voice. She hadn’t been sure that she was remembering it correctly in the last few months – but, she had been. That clear, concise tone, wrapped up in an absurdly sweet-sounding voice.

“Oh yeah?” Ringleader scoffed, eyeing Mystery Blonde up and down. “You know, loser has to pony up a hundred bucks. Or, I could think of something else?”

Mia grimaced in disgust, but Mystery Blonde’s expression remained stone cold, giving nothing away.

“That’s fine. If I win, you have to leave. Right now.”

The guys ribbed one another as ringleader accepted the challenge.

“Ladies first,” he invited with a gross little smirk, gesturing to the table.

Mia slowly sipped at her drink as she watched Mystery Blonde re-wrack the balls and pick her own cue.

Finally, as she faced the table, it was as though she couldn’t hear a single thing around her. Not the obnoxious heckling from the men, not the music on the speakers.

When Mystery Blonde broke, Mia gaped. Well, that explained the intense stare at the pool table.

Because Mystery Blonde sank all of the solids in less than ten minutes, while Ringleader only managed to get in two stripes.

“Corner pocket,” Mystery Blonde announced, pointing her cue at the far-right corner from where she stood, just before she sank the 8-ball.

Mia was smirking without even realizing it, especially as the men actually did leave, grumbling as they did so.

She couldn’t help but stare as Mystery Blonde walked back to the bar, exchanging quiet words with Megan that Mia couldn’t quite decipher from across the room. But Mystery Blonde flashed Megan a smile – something that made Mia’s heart leap from how unexpectedly sweet it looked.

So, so… sweet. Completely transforming that badass pool-shark expression she’d been wearing a minute ago.

Far too soon, Mystery Blonde took her final sip of her beer and stacked her notebook on top of her textbook, before sliding them carefully into her bag. She slid a cute, cozy-looking black jacket over her sweater, dawned her backpack, and waved at Megan as she walked out without a second glance.

It was probably one of the coolest – and hottest, if Mia was being honest – fucking things she’s ever seen anyone do, and Mia had seen a lot in her life.

In that instant, her lowkey interest took a head-first leap into the visceral need to try to get to know Mystery Blonde better.

***

Mia didn’t really consider herself a lucky person – she didn’t, actually, believe in luck.

But if it did exist, it was on her side the next time she went to The Witching Hour.

She had excitement coursing through her veins, an anticipatory thrill working through her as she pushed the door open. This visit was very deliberate: Mia wasn’t bringing a date, and she wasn’t freshly off shift.

Nope, she was alone and alert, and hopeful that Mystery Blonde would be there.

Even if she gave Mia that fuck off vibe all over again, Mia would at least know that she’d tried. She could be okay with that.

Her footsteps came to an abrupt stop as soon as she walked in, her stomach fluttering with excitement. Because… there she was. Mystery Blonde, right over at the pool table that Mia had last seen her at.

Without even stopping at the bar to grab a drink, Mia walked right over. She couldn’t risk this opportunity slipping through her fingers! Especially because it seemed like Mystery Blonde had just finished up her solo game.

With every step she took, Mia could feel her heartbeat quicken, her fingers start to tingle from the energy that rushed through her. She was already talking by the time she fully came to stand next to the table, unable to stop herself, “Hey! Can I possibly interest you in some friendly competition? All of the other tables are pretty full.”

In reality, Mia had no fucking clue if the other tables were full or not; she hadn’t even checked. She quickly gave them a cursory glance to find that she was mostly not wrong; out of the three pool tables, this was the only one with a single person playing.

Mystery Blonde sighed – not at Mia, she didn’t think? – but down at the table, as if replaying her game or something, as she shook her hair out of her eyes. “You can have it,” she murmured. “Here, you can have my–”

Any other words Mystery Blonde had been about to say fell right back down her throat, it seemed, as she finally looked up and saw Mia.

Her eyes – looking more green than tawny right now? Maybe because of the colors of the pool table having some effect – were just as bright and wide as she remembered, and… huh.

Mia hadn’t quite realized that she did remember exactly what Mystery Blonde looked like up-close, down to those little sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Tilting her head, she couldn’t help the smile that was still demanding a place on her face. What could Mia say? She was fucking excited!

“I can have your…?” She echoed, wondering desperately what Mystery Blonde had been going to say.

Only to be shocked as Mystery Blonde abruptly thrust the pool stick out at her, right in the direction of Mia’s head. She ducked, feeling the cue narrowly glance past her ear, and she was suddenly very, very thankful for her career and the reflexes she now had because of it.

Mystery Blonde gasped, her cheeks flushing deeply. “Sorry! I … um, I just, you can use the table. I’m sure you, uh…”

Mia’s shock at nearly being assaulted with the stick evaporated at how adorable Mystery Blonde was as she stumbled over her apology. Her amusement ramped up, her smile uncontrollably growing with it, as she watched Mystery Blonde’s beautiful eyes flick up over Mia’s shoulder, clearly looking for something.

Mia kept her gaze squarely on Mystery Blonde’s ridiculously captivating face, as she was quick to inform her, “No, I was actually hoping you’d want to play against me?”

Honestly, Mia had seen Mystery Blonde smoke those guys at pool, and Mia… sucked. Even when she wasn’t playing against a pool shark like Mystery Blonde, she very rarely had ever won a game. She was going into this knowing she would lose, and Mia didn’t give a single fuck.

She just wanted to use pool as an opening to talk to Mystery Blonde. To learn more – anything – about her.

Much like their first-ever interaction, though, Mystery Blonde’s eyebrows furrowed and she went quiet.

Oh, there was the fuck-off vibe.

Respecting it, even as she could feel the dregs of disappointment, Mia nodded. “It’s okay if you don’t want to; I get it.”

Before Mia could even take a regretful step back, though, Mystery Blonde seemed to jump to attention. “Yeah!”

Her cool, calm tone that Mia had heard before was gone, as that word escaped at a higher pitch.

Oh? Mia’s attention and interest was immediately grabbed once more.

“That’s okay. Playing pool together, I mean. That would be okay,” Mystery Blonde repeated, still holding out her arm and offering Mia her pool cue in the same position she’d held it out when nearly striking Mia with it.

Sliding her gaze over Mystery’s Blonde’s face with an interest Mia wasn’t sure she was able to properly disguise, she wondered…

Based on this interaction so far, Mystery Blonde wasn’t standoffish or aloof. In fact, especially based on the last thirty seconds, Mia would cautiously have to start revising her thoughts on Mystery Blonde – perhaps she was just a little socially awkward?

Which also fit this profile Mia had built of her.

Truly, deeply still filled with a want to know more, Mia reached out to take the cue. She deliberately wrapped her hand around the stick right under Mystery Blonde’s hand, and the touch was selfish; it was entirely for her. She’d been so interested by Mystery Blonde for months, now, and she just…

She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. Starting with this moment, how her hand felt – warm and soft – resting in slight contact with Mia’s own.

More than anything, though, she wanted to know her name.

“Mia Sharpe,” she offered her own, first, as well as her free hand. She was already buzzing with anticipation of feeling Mystery Blonde’s palm against hers. “I’ve seen you around here a lot.”

She might not have offered that information, if she wasn’t starting to get the very serious notion that Mystery Blonde really was just that unsure of herself in a social situation. It was part of Mia’s job to put someone at east in an uncomfortable situation, though, and she would love to do that right now with Mystery Blonde. To offer a small opening about her own observations.

Mystery Blonde stared down at her hand for a couple of seconds before she slowly slid hers against it.

Mia shivered.

Her palm was warm and her fingers were a little cool, and it was perfect, because Mia always felt too warm.

“Beckett. Eleanor Beckett.”

Beckett, Mia latched onto immediately, enjoying the sound of it rolling around her brain. Something about it seemed to really fit her. Eleanor…

Beckett frowned, the expression so deeply etched into her expression that it was comical, as she quickly shook her head.

“Ellie,” she corrected. “No one calls me Eleanor, except for my mom, sometimes, so, it’s just Ellie.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Ellie Beckett dropped both of her hands from contact with Mia’s, pressing them at first into her thighs, before she reached out a grabbed for her water. Her cheeks were still a little flushed, giving her an appealing little glow under the light from the fixture above the pool table.

Mia couldn’t help but stare. Here she was, talking to Mystery Blonde, whose name was Ellie Beckett, and somehow she just knew that both of those names fit this woman so intrinsically.

Beckett was Mystery Blonde – she was frowning at strangers and giving off fuck you vibes and giving bourbon recommendations. Ellie was this woman who seemed almost shy, standing in front of Mia.

“I’ve seen you around here, too,” Ellie Beckett informed her, before her eyebrows knitted together low over her eyes, and she immediately moved to drink the rest of her water.

Even as she drank, though, she darted her gaze toward Mia. Who was, unashamedly, watching the long line of Ellie’s throat as she swallowed.

Was there a chance that it wasn’t just social awkwardness? She wondered, the hot rush that shot through her entire body making her shiver slightly.

Ellie had noticed Mia, too. She’d kept that contact with her hand against Mia’s for much, much longer than was politely normal, and she seemed so… nervous. Blushing and looking at Mia, as if – well, as if Mia was her little fantasy crush just the way Ellie had become Mia’s.

Hmm.

Not wanting to lean too hard into it – Mia could read a room – she instead gestured at the table. “So, a game?”

Just as Mia had suspected, Ellie smoked her in a matter of minutes.

Also just as Mia had suspected, she couldn’t give a crap. All she cared about was that she was here, hanging out with Ellie-Mystery-Blonde-Beckett, and Ellie was explaining physics to her using pool balls as an example.

Mia was both enthralled and starting to feel a little enamored, listening to Ellie ramble. It was really amusing, because in high school, Mia couldn’t have cared less about science.

She guessed all she’d needed to care was to have a hot teacher passionately explaining it.

By the end of the night, Mia knew a few things for sure –

First and foremost, Ellie Beckett was a huge fucking nerd. She was a nerd that was MIT educated, who cared very deeply about her career – which involved building organs to save lives – and Mia wanted to know everything about it.

Secondly, Mia was fairly certain that her fantasy crush had been reciprocated.

She’d given all of the signs she’d normally give to any woman to imply that she was interested – talking about how she remembered exchanging a few words with Ellie, months ago. Ellie, too, remembered. Leaning in close as she spoke, brushing her hands against Ellie’s, sliding their knees together as they sat next to one another at the bar.

And Ellie – much to Mia’s sheer delight – seemed to lean into all of them. She, too, would lean in when Mia did. She didn’t pull away from their touches.

Most of all, Mia was certain that she was walking away with a date with Ellie. Or, perhaps, the prelude to a date, but she wasn’t going to let herself get caught up in the minutiae.

She put her number in Ellie’s phone and sent herself a quick text, so that she could text her back immediately –

Mia Sharpe – 9:43PMYou free tomorrow night? You, the pool table, drinks, apps, and me, waiting to get my butt kicked on baited breath.

Ellie glanced down at her phone, and Mia held her breath as Ellie scanned her text.

Finally, Ellie looked back at her with a small, shy smile. “I’ll be here.”

***

Date, pre-date – whatever this night was going to be, all Mia knew was that she’d been practically vibrating, waiting for it all day.

She didn’t have another shift at the station until the following day, so she’d kept herself as busy as possible at home. Trying to keep her hands and mind occupied so that she didn’t show up at The Witching Hour absurdly early.

She and Ellie had agreed to meet at six.

Mia found herself there at five-thirty; it was the latest she’d been able to manage to stop herself.

The reality was, Mia was more eager and more excited for tonight than she’d been for any casual date or hookup or fling she’d been going on for the last couple of months.

Not that she was putting any expectations on this night whatsoever, but… she liked Ellie. She’d been so interested by the idea of her for months, and their two and a half hours of hanging out last night had only affirmed every good and appealing thought Mia had about this woman.

For the first time in… Mia didn’t know how long, she was going to see a woman and just – just figure out where things took them.

She wasn’t going to give Ellie any sort of speech about being recently out of a relationship or anything like that, because Kristin was the last thing from her mind right now.

When Ellie walked in, her cheeks tinged pink from the chill in the winter air outside, Mia felt herself light up in excitement. God, that feeling – that rush of potentially liking someone, of wondering, and it was a feeling Mia couldn’t recreate when she met someone on a dating app. Or, at least, she hadn’t been able to yet – hit her like a ton of bricks.

She waved at Ellie, calling out, “Hey, you came!” So Ellie knew she was already here, that she’d already gotten their pool table.

Only to frown at herself immediately after because… what?! That had probably been the least smooth moment of Mia’s dating life.

It didn’t seem to bother Ellie, though, who walked toward her quickly, that incredible smile playing over her plush lips.

She teased Ellie lightly about how many layers she was wearing – sure, it was December and it was chilly, but the woman was wearing a jacket and two sweatshirts! Mia was from the southwest, and was wearing fewer layers – and Ellie shot back, “I run cold.”

Immediately following her statement, Ellie traced her eyes over Mia. That gaze that didn’t miss a single thing brushed over her, and Mia’s breath hitched in her throat. God, that was a special power and she wondered if Ellie knew she had it.

“I run hot,” she murmured in response, her voice dipping unintentionally low.

“Yeah,” Ellie agreed, before swiftly frowning and biting her lip.

Mia’s eyebrows lifted so far up on her forehead as that easy heat returned, sliding through her veins. Maybe Ellie wasn’t entirely sure how much flirting Mia would welcome, maybe she was shy – but Mia had no problem leaning right into it.

As their game started, Mia did – predictably – terrible… and she stared at Ellie closely, wondering if she’d have another moment of surprising boldness. If she’d offer to help Mia and come closer toward her, rather than remain glued to whatever side of the table Mia wasn’t on.

Again – Mia was happy to help people feel comfortable in a new situation.

And right now, with Ellie, she had absolutely no problem putting on the first move to set her at ease.

She looked at Ellie, eyes wide and beseeching, as she asked, “What am I doing wrong here?”

Mia would never play dumb for a woman – not even Ellie Beckett. It just so happened that she lucked out; not only did she really not have a fucking clue what she was doing wrong, but it allowed Ellie to finally break free from her self-imposed distance.

Mia’s heart started to beat harder and faster in her chest as Ellie approached her, taking Mia up on her very obvious invitation.

Amazing.

God, she was ready for this.

It somehow felt like the last few months of exchanging lingering looks across the room had been a crazy form of foreplay. Mia would never have predicted that, but she felt it. She felt it right in her very bones. She felt it between her legs, as Ellie came so close to her – close enough that her hip brushed against Mia’s.

Only to pause, as she asked quietly, “Do you… um… mind?”

Mia was already shaking her head by the end of the question. The last thing she did right in this moment was mind if Ellie touched her. The last thing she’d do right now was mind whatever contact they shared.

“Not at all.”

In fact, she was practically vibrating.

She felt insanely, ridiculously wanting, and she and Ellie had never even kissed. They hadn’t even finished their first date.

But she’d watched Ellie so much for so long, she’d mesmerized her features and her expressions. She’d partaken in the same drinks as Ellie for months. She’d gone home and looked Ellie up last night and had read through one of her research papers, feeling so – so amazed by what this woman’s mind was capable of.

Mia had never known that intelligence was a huge turn-on for her, but it was great to learn something new about herself at twenty-eight.

Ellie stepped up behind Mia, and immediately, Mia’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact.

Ellie’s thighs pressed against the backs of hers, her arms bracketed Mia’s, and her chin perched just above Mia’s shoulder, so she could feel the trembling exhale Ellie released wash over her neck.

It took everything inside of Mia to hold in the answering sound that wanted to escape her throat, and she clutched the pool cue so hard in her hands.

Holy shit.

She felt… encompassed by Ellie. Arousal shot through her, but at the same time she felt – comforted?

Which, she knew, was crazy.

But Ellie was so gentle, as her entire body blanketed Mia’s seeming to take care with every little movement she made. Mia had been aware that Ellie was taller than she was – most people were – but she hadn’t had a clue that Ellie was apparently the perfect height.

Mia inhaled deeply, breathing in Ellie’s scent – something very neutral? Just… clean. Like soap and laundry detergent, and Mia instantly fucking loved it.

“Right. Here,” Ellie’s voice was so low in her ear, it made Mia shudder softly. She wondered if Ellie felt it. She wondered if it made Ellie feel the way Ellie was making Mia feel right now. “Like this.”

Mia hadn’t been prepared.

She hadn’t been prepared for Ellie to smoothly shift forward, pressing her hips snugly against Mia’s ass to angle her down against the table.

Mia moved with her, feeling like she was putty in Ellie’s hands.

Was she being played? Was Ellie the smoother one of the two of them?!

She vaguely felt Ellie move their hands, and she snapped her eyes open just in time to watch Ellie guide Mia to making a great shot.

Wanting very badly to look Ellie in the eye, she turned her head to look directly at Ellie’s face, still over her shoulder.

God, they were so close.

Mia really hadn’t had any intentions tonight. For all she knew, Ellie really was very shy, very reserved. If tonight had gone half as well as last night did, Mia really wouldn’t care if they didn’t share a first kiss for weeks. Whatever pace Ellie wanted.

Right now, though, she wanted to kiss those soft looking lips with every fiber in her being.

Before she could decide if she should lean in, though, Ellie quickly moved away. “There. You… you should do it better, now.”

Mia knew it wasn’t her imagination that Ellie stumbled over her words or that her cheeks were flushed. Yeah – she’d felt it, too.

The electric pulsing through Mia’s veins didn’t fade, though, not for hours, as they eventually moved to the bar for drinks and some food.

The pulsing didn’t fade at all, because Mia was being sucked in even deeper with everything she learned about Ellie.

She learned that Ellie lived in an apartment with her sister. She learned that Ellie made a lot of dorky little comments and jokes that were about science without even realizing it, and it was so fucking cute.

She learned that Ellie really seemed to genuinely be impressed with Mia’s profession somehow – yes, Mia was proud of her work, but… it didn’t feel like much in comparison to what Ellie was doing with her life.

She was so wrapped up in their conversation, that she didn’t feel like she was brought back into reality toward the end of the night when Ellie nodded and said, “This was fun.”

An incredulous laugh escaped her. “Why do you sound surprised? Should I be concerned? Offended?”

Ellie shot her a look from the side of her eyes, as she used those long, attention stealing fingers – at least, they had Mia’s attention – to lightly trace a little double-helix against the bar top from the condensation from her last drink. “I don’t mean, like, surprised. I just don’t do this,” she gestured, a little awkwardly, very cutely, between the two of them. “Very often.”

Melting, Mia tilted her head slowly at Ellie.

She wasn’t shocked by that confession at all, because, well, she’d observed Ellie for months. She’d already figured it was likely that Ellie was single before Mia had ever approached her. and now that she knows Ellie better, she knows that she’s busy as fuck with her doctoral work and her lab work and that in her spare time, she sometimes hangs out with her sister.

The only thing that actually surprises her is… how does a woman like Ellie not have people falling over their feet, throwing themselves at her?

She was absolutely stunning, her hair was a show-stopper, she had a killer body, and she was the smartest person Mia had ever met.

But Mia supposed that other people’s loss was her gain.

“I kind of got that impression,” she spoke softly, wanting Ellie to know that Mia understood her. At least, what she knew of her so far. When Ellie turned swiftly to look at her, Mia quickly raised her hands to show no harm. “Not in a negative way. The opposite, really.”

Tracing her eyes over the gently curves of Ellie’s face, she pushed herself on – their evening was winding down, it seemed. Ellie, Mia now knew, had to be in the lab early, and Mia was going to be on shift and needed to be well-rested, so –

“I’m somewhat new around here, and don’t know a ton of places yet, outside of the very nearby area. Anywhere you have in mind for a good night out?” She asked, her tone effortlessly hopeful and inviting, as that was exactly what she wanted.

It was true; sure, Mia had been dating, but she hadn’t tried a lot of new places with those women. In fact, a part of Mia was nervous to experience a new activity or beautiful place with one of her transient dates. What if she loved it? And what if the place or experienced was grouped with that woman in Mia’s mind, forever? It was like Kristin’s kitchen table, all over again.

It was a big reason why she took so many dates here. Because she liked The Witching Hour, and her association with this pub had been Ellie, since that very first day. No risk of a date ruining that.

“Night out?” Ellie echoed, eyebrows crinkling together in a cute, confused look.

“Like, a date,” Mia clarified, softly. Wanting to make sure Ellie knew exactly what she was saying. She very much did not want a misunderstanding here, not with Ellie. “Somewhere you like, other than the pub, however great it may be here,” she joked, lightly.

She rolled her lips, thinking briefly about the holiday-themed activities she’d seen advertised throughout the city coming up in the next few weeks. “There’s a few holiday-specific things coming up, but…” She trailed off, hoping Ellie would fill in some details.

Like, what holidays did she celebrate? Did she enjoy doing kitschy holiday things?

Ellie continued to stare at Mia in an expression Mia could only label as bafflement. “If I don’t do this that much, you can imagine how little I date.” She said on a scoffing, self-deprecating laugh.

Ellie blushed, shooting Mia a cautious glance. “Besides, it, um, kind of seems like you have that all under control?”

Mia felt seriously slow, as she stared intently at Ellie. What in the world was she saying?

If she didn’t do this much, imagine how little she dated?

What did Ellie think they were doing tonight?! Did she…

Horror and embarrassment intertwined in Mia’s stomach, sinking like a sickening weight. It took everything in her power not to slam her head into her hands – repeatedly – as the dawning started.

Ellie – blessedly – seemed to have no idea? As she continued to haltingly speak, gesturing over to the corner Mia used to frequently sit in.

“It seems like you, uh, do pretty well. You know, with the woman and everything. I mean, they always seem like they’re having a good time.”

Holy fucking hell.

It was true, Mia realized, as she continued to stare wordlessly up at Ellie. She couldn’t do anything else, honestly, because she felt completely incapable of forming a coherent sentence right now.

“It’s interesting, I guess, that you don’t bring them here that much, other than once or twice,” Ellie commented, and it took Mia a second to realize – Ellie was talking about her dates. “Even that group you came in with that first night, you don’t… well, you’ve never come back with them, either.”

Mia couldn’t believe this.

She could not believe it!

Ellie really had no idea. No fucking clue that Mia had believed this was a date.

Mia had never read a situation or a person so grievously incorrect in her entire life.

Ellie didn’t need to be coaxed into feeling comfortable flirting with Mia or returning her flirty comments. She wasn’t merely reserved. Apparently, she hadn’t even known that Mia was flirting.

And, apparently, she seemed completely oblivious to the fact that her own words and actions had been flirty and teasing in return.

Just… what?

Mia realized Ellie was staring expectantly at her after having let out that little ramble, and she – well, she needed to drink the rest of her beer and hope that it gave her enough time to recover from this moment that she would never, ever forget.

She placed it down on the bar, reaching up and rubbing her forehead roughly. As if she could scrub it particularly of their moment at the pool table.

Mia could probably laugh about this someday, about everything except for that moment.

Finally, she cleared her throat and managed to answer like a normal non-date person. “Ah, yeah. They – the group I came in with the first night – are my engine crew; we work on shift together. We actually came out that night to celebrate my first shift there.”

She offered the explanation mostly because she still felt so off.

Mia was extremely skilled in the art of not sharing many facts and details about herself, while making people feel like they knew a lot about her. Roberta frequently commented on it, but the reality was that Mia felt… she felt… it made her feel cold and anxious and deeply unsettled to offer personal information to someone else.

That feeling, she’d realized since moving here, had only gotten worse after Kristin.

“Where’d you move here from?” Ellie asked, a light of curiosity in her eyes as she stared intently at Mia. “I mean, I’m not from here, necessarily, myself,” she shared, effortlessly. “I grew up in Green Ridge, in Vermont. there’s a population of fewer than a thousand people, but it’s the biggest mountain resort in New England, so, that’s why anyone’s actually heard of it.”

Honestly, Ellie’s factual rambling made Mia – strangely – relax a little.

“I mean, my mom and dad are – were,” Ellie stumbled over her words, a cloud immediately sliding over her face, and she cut herself off. “So, I’m not from here here, either. But New England, still.”

Mia watched Ellie in a renewed fascination.

First, because of that slip-up about her parents. If Mia were a betting woman – she wasn’t – she’d bet that Ellie had lost one of her parents, or both. There was an unmistakable ache that had lingered in Ellie’s tone, and it was an ache that Mia felt resonate through her.

So… it was unspoken, but Mia felt certain she and Ellie had both experienced a loss in the parental department.

Despite the insanity of the last couple of minutes, that realization made Mia smile, softly, up at her. “I moved here from L.A. about a week before the first time I came to The Witching Hour in September. Put in for a transfer, did all of the paperwork and then – here I was. Did my first official shift the week I moved, and the rest is history.”

She gave Ellie a perfunctory explanation, leaving out all of the intricacies of her move, leaving out every part that included Kristin and heartache, and uncertainty.

But what Ellie didn’t know, was that was more of an explanation than Mia had given to anyone in her new life here.

“And you like The Witching Hour but don’t want to come back with the guys. You don’t like them?” Ellie asked, and Mia could feel how much she was trying to make sense of the information Mia had given her.

Like she was trying to slot everything into place in her mind, so it aligned in a logical way.

Something about that made her relax even more – because it made Ellie make a lot more sense to her.

Ellie was clearly looking for little societal norms to clue her in to Mia’s relationship with her coworkers. She seemed to be a little unsure of that the right thing to say was, at the right time. She definitely hadn’t read the overt romantic cues Mia had been dropping like bombs.

She studied Ellie’s face, carefully, as she answered, “No, I do. I mean, I’m on shift with them for full days at a time, and I – literally – trust them with my life. Plus, there’s no sexist bullshit I was a little worried about at the start, either, which is a huge plus,” she explained, figuring that she’d give Ellie enough context for her to really get Mia in return.

Normally, that would be where she stopped talking about herself.

Honestly, she likely wouldn’t tell all of that to most people.

But she found, with Ellie’s curious, information-hungry expression watching her with such honest intent, admitting even more. “I guess outside of the job, I never really played well with others.”

A very sweet, very cute, and very understanding smile – like that was the thing that made everything click for Ellie – worked over Ellie’s face, as she nodded. “I don’t, either.”

Yeah, Mia, especially in the last five minutes, had gotten that.

Absurdly charmed in spite of her lingering embarrassment, Mia held out her beer bottle for Ellie to tap hers against in camaraderie.

***

The day after The Date That Wasn’t, Mia couldn’t help her mind from drifting back to Ellie as she worked down the rig.

This was her ritual, her safest, most sacred place. At the station, checking over the engine and making sure that everything was functioning the way it should, making sure everything was in top shape, making sure that she and the engine were both ready to go at a moment’s notice for whatever emergency may arise – this was her ultimate calm.

No matter what was going on in her life, this was always what brought her a sense of peace. It was where she had the quiet and the time to reflect on everything going on around her and try to make peace with it.

And right now, she was trying to make some damn peace about the fact that she’d literally believed she was on a date with Ellie Beckett AKA hot Mystery Blonde bar woman… only to find out that Ellie had no idea what Mia was thinking.

Based on Ellie’s reaction to comments on dating, Mia honestly wouldn’t even be surprised if Ellie identified as straight! Or somewhere on the asexual or aromantic spectrum. Or both.

She quietly laughed to herself, breathing through the lingering mortification that had returned in waves.

She’d never been so wrong in her entire life. Like to an insane, ridiculous degree.

And, where did she go from there? Should she still approach Ellie at the pub when she saw her? Should–

“Sharpe!” Flores called out, jarring her out of her mental checklist and wandering thoughts about Ellie.

She turned to face him, unable to summon any annoyance at being interrupted. If she’d learned anything about Flores in the last few months, it was that he really was like a puppy.

Bountiful energy, very loyal, always excited to see her. She liked him.

“Flores,” she mimicked his excited tone, arching a questioning eyebrow.

“Come on!” He gestured for her to follow him. “Big snowstorm is rolling in! About four inches have fallen since we came on shift.”

Frowning, Mia thought back to the weather report – something she habitually studied, because the natural elements could heavily influence statistical probability of emergencies. In Texas and California, she’d needed to be vigilant and prepared for dry heat, anticipating potential wildfires.

When she’d moved to the east coast, she’d done her proper research and reading on what to expect, and she knew that heavy rain and snow were the big weather factors to look for here. Big storms meant a far increased risk for accidents.

“I didn’t see that on the weather report?” She questioned, even as she’d already taken a step to follow him.

He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t supposed to hit us. This was the storm that was supposed to blow through Maine and keep going northwest, up through Canada. Something clearly shifted, because – it’s here.”

As they reached the front of the station, with all of the glass doors – Mia was very appreciative that the station had clearly been updated in the last decade – she stumbled to a stop.

All of those thick, crystallized flakes fell from the sky in droves, and the ground was already covered in a sparkling white blanket.

Mia’s breath caught in her throat, before she quickly rushed past Flores to push the door to the station open and walk outside. The snow crunched under her boots, and she tilted her head back in awe.

She’d seen snow in movies and television shows, of course, but she’d never experienced a real snowstorm before. Nothing like this.

She fished out her phone from her pocket, wanting to capture this memory.

Only to pause as she saw a text from Ellie.

Beckett, Ellie – 5:49PMDid you know that no one actually knows who invented the fire hydrant, because the patent was destroyed in 1836?

Mia breathed out a quiet laugh, blinking as the snowflakes latched onto her eyelashes.

All right, the reality was that she liked Ellie Beckett. Maybe she’d had an interest in her as a potential romantic partner, but…

Mia’s heart skipped a beat in her chest, as she lightly stroked her thumb over her phone screen.

It was because she liked Ellie so much that it was actually a good thing that Ellie didn’t see Mia in that way, she decided. It meant Mia could continue to see her at The Witching Hour and could continue to spend time with her, and there would be no pressure whatsoever. No reason for Mia to ever develop a gnawing fear that she was giving Ellie too much or too little.

That was, truthfully, a great thing.

Mia – 5:51PMWould it surprise you, nerd, that I DID know that? Come on, give me a little credit…

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spoiler prevention

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