Page 26 of Fire Fight

Aspen’s eyes flew open, locking on Sonya’s.

“I need you to take deep breaths,” Sonya urged. “In for four, hold for four, out for six. Let’s do it together.”

Sonya slowed her breathing and counted as she inhaled, Aspen following along with, each word no more than a gasp of air. Lane and I stood by, watching as Sonya expertly brought Aspen down from her panic attack.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” I hissed at Lane.

Lane cut me with a side eye. “I was taking her statement.”

I growled. “You couldn’t have waited a few weeks?”

“You know it’s best to do these things as soon as possible afterward.”

“Well clearly, she wasn’t ready to talk about it.”

“I see that now,” Lane gritted out.

At last, Aspen’s breathing returned to normal. Her fingers trembled as she lifted her hands to rub her temples, gaze fixed ahead, face red—almost like she was embarrassed.

She’d suffered a deep, nearly life-ending trauma, and she was embarrassed? About what? God, I wanted to deck my brother, having no doubt he was the cause of her inflamed cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff,” Aspen said weakly. “Can we do this another day?”

At last, she sought Lane out, though when she found me next to him, our gazes collided and held, her eyes widening.

I could practically see the memories of the night before playing on a loop in her eyes like an old school film projector.

“Crew,” she breathed.

“Hey, Aspen.”

Some emotion I couldn’t name flickered in her expression, those gorgeous cinnamon depths once again welling with unshed tears, a stray slipping free and rolling all the way to the edge of her jaw. Clinging for dear life.

Why was I gripped by the sudden urge to go to her and brush it away?

Before I could do something stupid, a petite woman barreled into the room, shoving me out of the way as she rushed to Aspen’s side, followed by a man with hair the same shade as Aspen’s.

My eyes flitted between Aspen and the newcomers, deciding these must be her parents.

“What in the world is going on here?” her mom demanded.

“You must be Mrs. McKay,” Lane said, having come to the same conclusion as me, stepping forward and extending his hand. “I’m Sheriff Lawless. I’m here to take Aspen’s statement regarding the fire.”

“Less than twenty-four hours later?” she hissed. “I don’t mean to be rude, Sheriff, but that’s incredibly insensitive.” Mrs. McKay gestured to her daughter, who was visibly upset. “She’s clearly not ready.”

Sufficiently chastened, Lane bowed his head like he’d been scolded by our own mother, murmuring his apologies.

Then Mrs. McKay’s stare landed on me.

“And who are you?”

“I—”

“He’s the one who saved me, Mom,” Aspen whispered.

“Oh!” Mrs. McKay squeaked, rushing across the room and throwing her arms around me in a hug that was surprisingly crushing given how tiny she was.

Awkwardly, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and gently patted her back as she sobbed into my shirt. Aspen looked on with a bemused grin. Aspen’s father merely gave me a curt nod and mouthed, “thank you.”