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This girl doesn’t belong here–not really. But you wouldn’t know it from the way those two look at her.

Jonah trails her through the house like he’s half-tethered to her. Finn can’t go ten minutes without throwing her a look full of love she hasn’t earned. And Ani? She laps it up.

I can see it written in every move they make this morning. Hell, I didn’t even need to see Jonah come out of her damn room at the ass crack of dawn to know.

Something’s changed between them.

And I fucking hate it.

She’s been here for almost a week. Still won’t meet my eyes. Still won’t correct me when I call her Annie. Still acts like she’s bracing for impact when I’m around.

But she’s got Finn wrapped around her finger and Jonah walking around catering to her every need. How am I the only one who can see through this bullshit?

I slam the back door on my way out.

I need distance. A task. Something to take my mind off of her.

The drive to the fire station doesn’t help. I turn up the music but thoughts of her still invade my mind.

We took her in. Fed her. Let her sleep under our roof. Gave her access to Mae. And she’s given us nothing. We can’t even look into her background, confirm her story, make sure she hasn’t done something that could blow up in our faces. Because she won’t give us her full name.

I walk into the station through the back entrance, ignoring the greetings from the shift crew still hanging around. I’ve got a head full of heat and no outlet. I head into my office, looking for a distraction.

My desk is a mess. The stack of overdue reports is still waiting.

I drop into my chair, roll my shoulders back and try to get my brain to cooperate. Paperwork has never been my thing, but it’s a task I can control—and right now that’s what I need.

I get through a couple of reports before the front door buzzer sounds.

The man who steps inside isn’t anyone I recognize. Tall, clean cut, dressed too neat for someone local. He moves with precision. There’s a black leather folder in his hand.

There’s a pause; then I hear one of the guys call out, “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a–”he checks his folder, “Boone Caldwell.”

Another set of boots scuffs the hallway. Jefferson swings his head in my doorway. “Hey, Cap? You got a visitor.”

I sigh and follow Jefferson back out to the lobby. Up close it’s even more obvious this man doesn’t belong. Tall, mid-forties maybe. Dressed in a dark coat and tailored pants. He’s clean-cut, every part of him crisp and pressed, from the exact part in his hair to that black leather folder he’s practically white-knuckling.

“I’m Boone. What can I do for you?”

“Morning. I’m looking into the fire at the Valley View Motel. Heard your crew was first on scene.”

I keep my expression neutral. “We were. It’s in the report.”

“I read it. Just had a few follow-up questions. Do you have a minute?”

I nod once. “This way.”

He follows me back into the office without a word. I close the door behind us to give us some privacy, but I know my boys are probably listening outside the door.

I sit back down, motioning toward the chair across from mine. He doesn’t sit. Instead, he flips open the folder and slides a photo across the desk.

The moment I see her face, my body goes still.

It’s Ani.

She’s younger in the picture. Different hairstyle. And with bright red lipstick on. But it’s her.