Page 18

RUMI

Almost setting my house on a fire while masturbating in the bathtub is a secret I will take to my grave.

Along with the fact I was fantasizing about my newest hot, firefighter friend five minutes before he literally kicked down my front door.

Talk about a fantasy.

It’ll be hard to keep the latter to myself—seeing as though Ava will be home any minute and see our front door on the ground and said friend inspecting our home for potential fire hazards—but the former will die with me.

“I didn’t know firefighters made cookies in between, you know, fighting fires,” I reply to Jack, looking up into his green eyes, my arms crossed over my chest to put at least some space between us.

Last night, I felt like I needed the space.

Tonight, it feels pointless, like my body needs to be near him despite my mind warning me to keep my distance.

Because I know the story of how his best friend died, I knew he was a firefighter. I guess I just didn’t know he still was. I can’t imagine how hard it is to come back to a job where you experienced such a loss.

I wonder if he knows how admirable that is.

“We don’t,” he answers, and his lips twitch to one side of his mouth, as if he doesn’t want to let his smile show. He’s let it slip a few times, but it’s like he prefers to keep them to himself. “But, we’re friends. And friends don’t let other friends eat burnt cookies.”

“Who’s eating burnt cookies?” I hear from my back patio, and I can’t help but flinch at the surprise or stop the gasp that escapes.

I hate leaving my windows or doors open, especially when I’m home alone, but there was no other way to get the smoke out.

Our yard is fenced in, but someone could easily get over it, and with the glass door open, the screen one being the only thing between me and whoever is out there.

“Hey,” I hear, and I feel a gentle touch on the side of my face. “It’s just my partner,” Jack says quietly, and my body instantly relaxes. His palm is calloused and rough against my cheek, but, for a moment, I find myself leaning into the warm touch, the safety I feel in it.

“What the fuck?!” This voice doesn’t make me flinch because it’s one I’ve heard everyday for the last year, but it does bring me back to the moment as Jack’s hand falls back to his side and we both take a step back.

Ava’s home, and I already know she’s not at all ready for the scene she’s walking into.

As she heads down the hallway that leads to the kitchen from our entryway, I take a moment to look around the space while Jack walks over to the screen door of the patio, sliding it open to talk to his partner.

The man has a similar build to Jack, only a few inches shorter, with shaggy brown hair that is too dark to be considered blonde but too light to be considered brunette.

They’re both dressed in cargo pants and a Northshore Fire Department T-shirt, and it’s no wonder firefighters pose shirtless for calendars.

Ava’s hair is tied up in the same messy bun she wore when she left, the pieces falling out a little curlier from being in the water.

Evee’s asleep against her shoulder, exhausted from her swim class.

“What the hell happened here?” she asks as she looks around the kitchen.

Her eyes blink rapidly as she takes everything in, her mouth slightly ajar.

The smoke has cleared from the night breeze coming in through the opened windows and doors, but the two very large—very attractive —men, one of whom she met yesterday, stand just inside our back patio.

“I’m Anderson Jones, and this is Jack Hasting,” Jack’s partner—Anderson—says, breaking the silence and stepping into the house, reaching out a hand to Ava. Ava’s eyes immediately go to the floor where the man steps, no doubt noticing that they didn’t take off their boots.

I don’t have to see her feet to know Ava took off her shoes when she walked into the house, even with the surprise and confusion I’m sure she had finding our front door no longer on the hinges.

“Rumi,” she says, turning to me and ignoring Anderson and his outstretched hand. Her voice is calm—too calm—which makes it even scarier.

Anderson runs his hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.

“Can you please tell me why there are two firefighters in our house right now?” She knows I don’t like making her upset, and she always tries to hide when she is, but this unsettling, overly composed thing she does when she’s mad always makes me feel like I have to apologize for anything and everything.

“I’m sorry. I accidentally set off the fire alarm,” I tell her, and I feel three different pairs of eyes on me.

I hate how quiet my voice is, but I can’t help it with all the attention directed toward me.

“Are you okay?” Ava asks, her voice evening out.

“I’m fine. I’m so so sorry,” I tell her, walking over to the kitchen to grab Evee from her.

“Good,” she turns to Jack and Anderson. “But that doesn’t explain why my front door is on the floor,” Ava says, her voice still calm but in no way polite. She turns back to me. “And stop apologizing.”

She passes a sleeping Evee to me, the movement making her open her eyes for a moment before she closes them again, resting her head on my shoulder as I hold her with both arms.

“Sorry, miss. We were here to do a routine fire inspection when we heard the alarm,” Anderson explains.

“And it’s ‘routine’ to kick in the door when you do these fire inspections?” she asks him.

“Well, no,” he answers. “But, we tried knocking and when?—”

“She wasn’t answering, and I heard her scream,” Jack interjects firmly, and all eyes go to him. “I needed to make sure she was okay.”

With a slight raise to her brow as she looks him up and down, Ava nods her head—his answer must be enough of an explanation for her even though it confuses the hell out of me.

He knocked down the door when he heard me scream?

He makes it sound so simple, as if it doesn’t make my insides feel warm.

“So it’s you who gets to fix it then,” Ava says, and it comes out as a statement rather than a question.

“Already promised to do so,” Jack replies.

Ava turns to head to her bedroom, leaning in to whisper something to me as she passes. “I’m sure he did.”

My cheeks heat as her bedroom door closes, leaving the three of us in the kitchen—four if you count Evee. Her hair smells like a mix of chlorine and her tangerine-scented shampoo, and her soft breath tickles the skin on my neck.

“I just need to make sure you have a fire extinguisher,” Jack quickly says, breaking the silence. “Then, we’ll be on our way.”

“Oh, it’s under the sink,” I offer, and he gives me a nod.

Anderson’s only a few steps away, so he leans down and checks, before standing to his full height and giving a thumbs up. “Then we’re good to go,” the fireman says. “Thanks for your time.” He starts heading toward the front, but Jack makes no effort to move.

Jack watches me carefully, his eyes going from mine to where Evee’s head rests on my shoulder, the weight of her bringing the collar of my crewneck down, revealing my collarbone.

After slowly blowing out an exaggerated breath, I hear Anderson say, “I’ll just wait in the car.

” He stretches out the words, and, by his tone, I can tell he knows something is going on—even though I couldn’t even begin to explain what that something is.

He bends to grab a fire extinguisher I didn’t even realize they brought in before making his escape, stepping over the door on the ground and heading outside.

A few moments pass, and the intensity of Jack’s stare begins to weigh on me, making me feel too exposed, like a wide-open book, all the pages on display for anyone to see.

I feel my grip tighten around Evee, the same way it had yesterday morning when Jack was staring at me at Hey Honey’s. Something about it feels very forward , like he is looking for parts of me I have hidden away.

“Where did you get that?” Jack finally asks, and I don’t know what he’s talking about at first.

I follow his gaze, looking down at my exposed skin, the raised reddish scar across the front of my shoulder to my collarbone. “It’s from the accident,” I answer. “The one I mentioned last night.”

The scar is a constant reminder of Trevor’s palm against the side of my face, my bruised knuckles squeezing the wheel, the contractions making my vision go blurry, the impact of my car against the tree.

“I went into labor while I was driving. It was on this dark road in the middle of nowhere when a contraction hit. That’s how I crashed.”

I lift my eyes from the scar, the memories following the call to 911 still gone, aside from the one that came out of nowhere yesterday.

She needs to be okay .

I look up to find Jack has closed the distance between us, his presence warm and solid. He lifts his hand, as if to touch me again, but he lowers it after a second, his hand closing to a fist at his side.

“But you were okay?” he asks, and his voice is no louder than a rough whisper, and I swear I hear a slight tremble in his voice. “After the crash?”

I nod. “There was someone there. Someone who helped me before the ambulance got there. I can’t remember them, but I just—” I close my eyes, wishing the memories would flood back to me once again, wishing I could clearly see those eyes that looked down on me and find that voice that told me I needed to be okay. “I just know.”

It feels like there’s more to say, like this conversation isn’t over, but Evee begins to stir in my arms, and Jack slowly takes a few steps back as if his movement could wake her completely.

He runs a hand through his thick, dark hair.

“I’ll be back to fix your door,” he whispers, but his eyes are still on Evee.

“You don’t have to be so quiet,” I whisper back, fighting the smile threatening my lips. “She’s a heavy sleeper.”

His lips curl, that small smile forming on one side of his mouth, and it feels like some kind of victory that I was the one to make it come to fruition.