Page 20 of The Accidental (Redemption Inc.)

Nine

Feb stood in front of the bar, watching the blue and red lights of the patrol car outside bounce off the freshly painted walls and good-as-new shiplap ceiling.

Both still intact, as with all but one of the plate glass windows.

A moment later, the patrol car pulled away from the curb, its lights fading as it turned the corner, the street falling back into nighttime darkness but for the streetlights and the stand-up shop light Hawes and Holt had on the shattered window they were boarding up from the outside.

Reality seemed not, everything unreal—the events of this evening, the events of the past week—but Feb was still standing and so was her restaurant, the lights burning bright inside.

Though it was noticeably less crowded than it had been a few hours ago, only Hawes and Holt outside, Jax in the kitchen, and Mel and Brax striding back inside from the cold.

Feb would also like February to go back to normal San Francisco temps.

“Well, all in all,” Mel said as she and Brax wove through tables, “one broken window and a single bullet hole isn’t too much to fix over the weekend.”

Feb fingered the hole in the front edge of the bar. “I might leave this. Gives the place some character.”

Chuckling, Brax leaned against the barstool beside her. “This place is full of character already.” His gaze took a lap around the interior before landing back on her. “Really, Feb, it’s a great place you’ve got here, and the food is dynamite.”

“You know already Ariel said the same,” Jax added as they emerged from the breezeway.

“How is he?” Feb asked. “And Fletcher?” She’d been hiding in the dry goods pantry like Hawes had told her to when Fletcher had barreled in through the back door—right into Hawes’s chokehold.

He’d halted Fletcher’s forward motion in a flurry of quick, efficient maneuvers, until something over the in-ear comms had caused Hawes to loosen his hold on the struggling detective.

Fletcher had shot out of his arms like he hadn’t been stopped at all.

He’d sprinted up the breezeway to the dining room, Hawes behind him, Feb behind Hawes.

Only it hadn’t been over.

“Fletcher’s fine,” Brax said. “Just some bumps and bruises. The gunshot wound to Ariel’s shoulder was a through and through. Docs are more concerned with the head injury he got from tackling Fletcher to the floor. They’ve medically induced a coma.”

Feb coasted a hand over her own head, grateful Jax had taken them down on their hips, an arm around her head to cushion their fall. “I’d like to go by tomorrow. Check on them.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jax said, then to Mel, “Do we know who the shooter was?”

She shook her head. “Camino redundancy, likely.”

“We found an empty sniper’s nest in the under-construction building across the square,” Brax added. “Been there a while. Probably on Tuesday too.”

“The both of you,” Mel said, splitting a glance between her and Jax, “probably saved Ariel’s life twice . Fletcher’s too.” Then to Feb, hand outstretched, commended her. “You handled all of this remarkably well, Ms. Winters.”

She rolled her eyes, even as she shook the boss lady’s hand. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“I would,” Mel said with a smile. “There’s a spot for you at Redemption if you ever want it.”

Feb couldn’t catch the giggle that escaped. Or the truth. “No thank you. And no offense. You all are amazing, but I am not nearly as cool, and I have a three-star kitchen to run.” She blew a flyaway off her forehead. “That’s enough stress.”

“None taken,” Mel said. “And fair enough. I, for one, cannot wait to bring Danny here. He’s gonna love it.”

“There’ll be a table waiting for you.” Feb was curious as hell to meet the person who’d swept the powerhouse off her feet and somehow kept up with her.

When Brax held out his hand for a shake too, Feb walked into his arms instead, hugging him around the waist. He hugged her back, every bit the father figure she’d first taken him for.

Had been through all this. “We’ll finish boarding up that window tonight,” he said as he drew back.

“We’ll be back tomorrow to take down the surveillance and reprogram the locks, then on Sunday with the new glass. ”

“Sounds good. Thank you for everything.”

“Jax,” he said, turning to them next. “Good job on point.”

“HQ tomorrow?”

“Monday,” Mel said. “Take the weekend off.”

“It’s no?—”

“Monday,” Brax seconded, and that was that, apparently, the two bosses headed back out the front door, the both of them so different but a perfect complement to each other.

“So, that’s Mom and Dad...” Feb said, unable to hold in any longer the observation she’d kept bottled up for days.

“Frighteningly accurate,” Jax said, chuckling as they scooted behind the bar. “Whiskey?”

Feb climbed onto a stool. “Fuck yes.”

Jax worked as effortlessly behind the bar as they had since they’d first stepped behind it.

Sure, it wasn’t rocket science, pouring whiskey into a glass, but the flick of their wrists as they turned up two glasses, then the bottle, the drop of water they put into each whiskey to open the rye up was its own sort of science.

Their movements behind the bar were practiced, like they were as suited to it as they were to computers and whatever else they did for Redemption.

But selfishly, Feb liked them behind her bar a lot better.

“I can coordinate the repairs here this weekend,” they said as they slid a tumbler across the bar to her. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Feb paused, glass halfway to her lips. “Why would you do that? I negotiated to keep you on until I can fill the spot.”

Jax’s green eyes widened. “You did?”

“Of course I did.” She raised her glass and waited for Jax to clink their rim against it. “And I thought I negotiated a date with you...”

“But the stress?—”

She grinned behind the rim of her glass. “Pretty sure you’ll help relieve some of that.”

Reaching a hand across the bar, Jax wrapped it gently around her wrist and tugged down the glass. “Feb, are you sure? You’ve gotten an up-close view of my life, my family?—”

“I’ve gotten an up-close view of how devoted you are to one another and to doing right by folks you barely know.

” Feb covered Jax’s hand with her free one and squeezed.

“I’m not asking for forever yet. A date tomorrow night, and if that goes well, maybe more, but let’s just worry about tomorrow night for now. ”

The corner of Jax’s lips twitched. “Not tonight?”

“No, that was what I was going to say earlier in the nook before Hawes interrupted. We both need sleep tonight.” She set her glass down, then, forearms on the bar, levered herself up and brushed her lips over Jax’s. “So we can not tomorrow night.”

Jax’s lips curved against hers. “I like the way you think, Chef Winters.”

Feb stepped outside her home, phone in hand to monitor the car on its way to pick her up, when Helena’s sleek, roaring black SUV pulled to the curb. Boss lady was behind the wheel, her wife leaning out the passenger window with a kind, warm smile. “Hop in, Feb,” Celia said. “We’ll give you a lift.”

“I don’t think this is how it’s supposed to work,” Feb said, even as she climbed into the back seat. “I asked Jax out. I’m supposed to pick them up.”

Helena cackled. “I can’t believe you just said supposed to anything after the week you had.” She gunned it, slinging Feb back into the seat and earning a playful backhand and “Behave” from Celia.

“She’s not wrong,” Feb admitted as she cancelled her car request. “Expect the unexpected, right?”

Helena snickered. “Remember you said that.”

“Spoilers!” Celia hissed.

“Spoilers for what?” Feb said, leaning forward. She was well and truly intrigued, and after the last week, after the somber visit earlier today she and Jax had made to Fletcher and a still unconscious Ariel at the hospital, things could only improve.

Unfortunately, Celia wasn’t playing along, changing the subject to first baked goods, then Lily, the conversation carrying the rest of the way to... Under the Table.

They pulled in front of Feb’s restaurant, with both its windows fixed, and a sidewalk full of people—Jax’s family she’d met the past week, plus chefs from her old restaurant in the city, from UTT, from Diamond, including Justin and Amanda, and others from the community.

And in front of the gathering stood Jax, dressed in a sharp three-piece suit, the tie between their jacket’s lapels plastered with.

.. stars. “What’s going on?” Feb said as Jax stepped toward the door.

Helena’s smile when she looked back over her shoulder was as warm and genuine as her wife’s always was. It melted the ice completely. “The celebration you deserve.”

Jax opened the back door and offered her a hand. “Chef.”

“What happened to date night?” she whispered low.

Jax grinned. “We’ll get there, promise. But there’s something everyone wanted you to see first.” They lifted their chin and the crowd parted.

Beside the door, inset in stone between the doorframe and window, was a new plaque etched with three stars and the Render logo. Tears filled Feb’s eyes, the stars seeming to swim, same as her insides. She knew what Ariel had said, but... “Is this for real?”

Jax wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her steady. “You earned it, babe.”

“How?” she squeaked out. “Does it count? And so fast?”

“It counts, and don’t ask those questions.”

She chuckled, the sound watery from the tears clogging her throat too. “I don’t wanna know.”

“Now she’s learning,” Helena said as she and Celia joined them on the sidewalk, then led the crowd in a rousing “Happy Birthday” to Feb before leading everyone inside to party.