Page 37 of Fire Fight

The air at the other end of the line was dead for so long I pulled my phone from my ear to make sure she hadn’t hung up on me. Finding the call was still connected, I said, “Mom?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Your father and I made the decision to pay your bill for you.”

“You hadno right,” I gritted out, my jaw aching from clenching it so tightly.

“We’re your parents, and it is ourrightto take care of you, to help you when you’re struggling.” She heaved a sigh laced with years of exasperation. “Honestly, Aspen, you’re taking this whole independence thing too seriously.”

I huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Your refusal to let people help you is only going to end up hurtingyouin the long run. It’s likely why you’re still single, and why you’ve never really had a serious relationship.”

The words struck me in the chest like a stab wound, catching me so off guard I dropped my phone onto thebench at my side. My mom’s voice became a distant squawking.

Losing the one person in this world who understood me better than anyone, who had been my sounding board for all things like boys, fashion, school, or life in general, had taken an obvious toll on me. I was only sixteen when Lola died, at a critical stage of my formative years, and suddenly, my rock vanished, leaving me floating in space.

In all the years I’d been alive, I’d never once doubted my parents loved me. Before, I thought it had been unconditional, but the way Mom had been acting lately…maybeherlove came with strings, and the fire singed them all away, once again leaving me untethered.

Did I want a family, a husband and children of my own? Eventually, sure. But at this point, I’d spent so long alone I almost couldn’t imagine making space in my solitary existence for anyone else.

Clearly, I didn’t even have a good relationship with my parents. How could I expect to be happy with a man?

Finally, I picked the phone back up, Mom’s words going in one ear and out the other.

“Good to know what you really think, Mom,” I said when she stopped speaking. “I don’t want to talk to you for a while. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.”

“Asp—” she started, but I hung up.

Well fuck.

If I sat on that bench and thought about it for too long, I’d likely never get up, so I stood and put one foot in front of the other…as far as the sidewalk, anyway. After that, I had to pull out my phone and see if this town had any sort of public transit system. They did, but it was either wait thirty minutes for the bus or walk the ten minutes to the police department.

The day was gorgeous, and I’d been cooped up inside for too damn long, so I opted to walk.

By the time I pushed inside the department, I was regretting it. My side ached like a bitch, and after two weeks of being sedentary, I was panting like a dog.

Clearly recognizing me from last time, the desk sergeant didn’t get up, but she did say, “I’ll buzz the sheriff for you. And I’m real sorry for your ordeal, Miss McKay. It’s good to see you out and about.”

“Thank you,” I said, and she lifted the phone, calling back to the sheriff. After a brief conversation, she buzzed me back into the bullpen.

Eyes tracked me across the room once again, my skin crawling with the sensation of having too many people staring at me. When I reached the sheriff’s office, the door slightly ajar, I pushed inside without waiting for an invitation and slammed it shut behind me. Then I dropped unceremoniously into the chair I’d been in before, a hiss of pain leaving me when my injuries met the cushion.

His brow was curved toward his hairline when I met his gaze.

“Sorry. I hate people staring at me.”

“Understandable. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened to you. I can’t remember if I said it before…”

Before, when the first time he’d tried to conduct this interview sent me into a panic attack.

I waved him off, not needing his sympathy or pity.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”

The sheriff looked like he wanted to press the issue, to say something else, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He withdrew his phone, opened the voice note app, and pressed record.

“Sheriff Lawless here with Aspen McKay, second interview in regards to the events of the prom night fire.” He paused and looked up at me. While he was a little more rugged than Crew, a little less clean, they had the same eyes complete with the same fringe of thick lashes. The realization settled me. Sheriff Lawlesswasn’t here to harm me in any way. He merely wanted to catch whoever had done this to me. “You good?”

Swallowing hard and squaring my shoulders, sitting up as straight as I could muster while favoring my left side, I nodded. “Yeah.”