Page 65 of Fire Fight

I loved her immediately.

When she retreated, though her hands rested gently on my upper arms, I said, “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. Lawless.”

She waved me off. “Please, call me Birdie. All my friends do,” she added with a wink.

“Hey, Mama,” Crew said as he rounded the front of the truck.

“Baby boy,” she said softly, letting me go to greet her youngest son.

The size difference between the two was comical. If I had to guess, Birdie couldn’t have been more than a few inches taller than me, which meant Crew had an entire foot on her. Still, he bent low and wrapped his arms around her waist, scooping herup and swinging her around. By the time he returned her to her feet, she was red-faced and laughing, though she swatted at him with her towel.

“I’m too old for that shit,” Birdie gasped.

Crew grinned. “No such thing, Mama.”

“Well, c’mon then. You two are the first ones here, which means you can help me set the table.”

Birdie bounded up the steps with a hell of a lot of energy for a woman who had to at least be in her sixties, and Crew crossed over to me, muttering, “Lucky us,” as he took my hand and led me inside.

I couldn’t find it in myself to pull away. It seemed as though we’d crossed some sort of boundary last night, and casual touches were now encouraged. I didn’t mind one bit, loved the sense of belonging it gave me to have his rough, calloused palm against mine. Holding me down. Keeping me safe.

The exterior of the house was stunning, but the interior was even more breathtaking.

The ceilings of the entrance soared, a catwalk bridging the two sides of the second floor. The walls of the foyer were lined with hooks and cubbies where the kids must’ve once hung their coats and stored their filthy boots in all seasons. Straight ahead was a narrow hallway, off to the left an archway that led to a stunning formal dining room, and to the right was an ascending staircase with a living space beyond. A gas fire burned in the hearth, and I flinched, tensing at the sight.

Crew caught on quickly and paced across to a dial on the wall, extinguishing the flames.

Birdie’s hand flew to her chest. “I’m so sorry, Aspen. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” I said with a weak smile. “Just…unexpected.”

I wasn’t sure the day would come where I wasn’t terrified of an open flame. Trapped safely behind the grate of the Lawlesses’ hearth, logically, I knew it couldn’t hurt me. But even the meresuggestion of fire brought too many memories to the forefront of my brain, dousing me in panic for a threat that didn’t exist.

Her eyes remained locked on me for another heartbeat before she nodded and turned on her heel, leading us to the left.

“I can’t believe you grew up here,” I hissed at Crew as we followed her past the long dining table and through a swinging, saloon-style door into an equally impressive kitchen.

Honestly, what the fuck? This place looked like the set of some cozy western television show about the trials and tribulations of a big fictional family.

On second thought, that was exactly what this place was, only there was nothing fictional about it. This family had celebrated wins and mourned losses together within the walls of this home. They’d laughed and cried, argued and loved. I could practically see the messy boys racing through the foyer, Birdie yelling at them to kick off their dirty boots and bring their filthy clothes to the laundry room. I bet it had been loud and so full of life—a stark contrast to the tomb my own home had become after my sister died.

“It didn’t always look like this,” Crew snorted, once again pulling me from my inner turmoil. “We expanded right around the time Owen signed his first brand deal.”

“Which one is Owen?”

“The oldest,” Birdie supplied, picking up a heaping platter of what appeared to be pulled pork. “And the reason we survived losing Jase.”

I shot Crew a quizzical expression.

“Jase was my dad,” he supplied, then he murmured that he’d explain the rest later, picking up a tray of rolls that had been cut open. I grabbed a bowl of salad and followed him and Birdie into another room off the back of the kitchen.

Clearly, this was where the real, ordinary family meals took place. The center of the narrow room was dominated by a long oak table flanked down each side by two benches. The wood washeavily scarred with nicks, dents, and scratches. Some burn marks even marred its surface. Pot holders sat waiting for food, and several places were set with plates, silverware, and glasses.

The ceilings in here were lower, though still plenty high in deference to Crew’s height. After having met Lane, I had to assume each of his brothers were equally as tall, and I had to wonder about the baby sister. Did she get the literal short end of the stick like her mother, or would she tower over me too?

“Ma?” someone called.

Birdie’s head whipped toward the door before she checked her watch.