Page 38 of Ink and Ashes

Even more stunning than any way I’ve seen her before.

“Colson?” she asks, my name on her lips pulling me from my stupor.

“Sorry, I just…” I trail off, pulling my gaze from her and taking a seat on the end of the bed.

She makes her way over and sits down next to me. She positions herself with one leg curled under her so she’s facing me, then she rests her hand on my knee.

“Talk to me. What’s going through your head?”

Her touch calms me, and I brave another glance at her. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t fucking know what to think.”

Her thumb swipes over my knee. “How was work today?”

“It was…fine. Slow. Which, all things considered, should be a relief I suppose.” I glance down at the floor. “I talked to my dad this morning.”

She sits up straighter. “What did he have to say? ”

I pause, trying to figure out how best to tell her.

“He asked me if I thought you were right, and I told him about Morgan, Hart, and Sharpe. He agreed Morgan is clear, and he also said Hart doesn’t have what it takes to be an arsonist and get away with it for as long as you believe this person has. Which only leaves Sharpe.”

“Okay. That’s good to know. We’ll keep a closer eye on Ollie, and I’ll do some more research on him.” She squeezes my leg slightly. “Thank you, Colson. I know this isn’t easy.”

I shake my head. It’s damn near the hardest thing I’ve ever faced.

But for some reason, doing it with her makes it the slightest bit easier.

“Can I ask you something? Unrelated to this,” she asks.

I meet her gaze. “Yeah, anything,” I say, thankful for a change in subject.

She exhales deeply, then says, “Both Dom and Cass have mentioned you have a sordid history with the press. Cass gave me a surface-level rundown of why, but I was just wondering if you’d be willing to tell me more.”

I blow out a breath, running my hand through my hair. I knew this would come up eventually. If I’m being honest, I’m surprised she hasn’t brought it up sooner, given how I treated her the first few weeks after she arrived.

Part of me wants to say nothing, beg her to drop it and leave it in the past where it belongs. But the other part of me wants Holland to know everything about me—even the darkest sides. Maybe if she knows the truth, she’ll understand why this has been so hard on me.

Which is why I decide to tell her, “Five years ago, a fire broke out at the apartment complexes off High Street, where my fiancée Ellie and I were living at the time.”

Holland inhales sharply. I know she wasn’t prepared for that.

“The woman in the picture on your nightstand,” she says simply, all the pieces falling into place.

I nod. I know exactly what picture she’s talking about. The same one she brought up when I first started staying at the inn, talking about how my girlfriend wouldn’t like it.

If Ellie were still here, that would’ve been true. But she isn’t. And it’s my fault.

“That’s her,” I say, my voice cracking. It isn’t often these days that I talk about her, or what happened that night. Part of me had hoped I’d never have to again.

“She, um, she didn’t make it out,” I continue.

“And it was my fault. When I’d found her originally, she was okay—she was trying to help our elderly neighbour down the stairs.

She insisted I get him out first, that she’d be right behind me.

And she was, for a minute. Then there was an explosion, and when I turned around again, she’d vanished. ”

“Oh, Colson,” Holland says softly, resting her hand on my arm. “I am so, so sorry.”

I swallow roughly. “It was the largest structure fire this area had seen since the Welland Ranch burned, so the press was all over it. When it came out that Ellie had died, they blamed me for not saving her in time. And when they discovered she had been my fiancée, they accused me of being the one who started the fire.”

She gasps, speechless.

“For weeks, they camped outside my parents’ house—where I was staying afterward.

I couldn’t leave the house. I had to take a leave from work.

When they couldn’t get to me, they started going after my parents, Beau and Dom, and Cass too, accusing us all of the worst thing imaginable.

Claiming that I was abusive and used the fire to murder her.

I’d just lost the woman I was supposed to marry, and I was dealing with the backlash from the fire.

I fell into a really dark place, and I never fully climbed out of it. ”

I run a hand through my hair. “Eventually, the press got bored and moved on. But they were here for a few months, and the depression lasted longer. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat.

It was really bad. My family tried everything to help me, but nothing worked.

At least not until they hired a therapist to come to the house.

For a few weeks, we would just sit in silence.

But eventually, his presence pissed me off to the point where I started talking. And once I started, I couldn’t stop. ”

I let out a breath, and she shifts in her seat. Her gaze is locked on me, listening to every word coming out of my mouth.

“He helped me get back to normal—or as normal as I could be, anyway. I slowly returned to work, slowly started living my life again. But I’ve never been the same.

I still feel a lot of blame over what happened with Ellie, because even though I wasn’t the one to set the fire, I also couldn’t save her from it.

That didn’t help matters either. So now every time someone from the press starts sniffing around, I immediately assume the worst.”

“Which is completely understandable,” she says. “It explains a lot about why you reacted the way you did to me.”

“It doesn’t excuse it, though. I’m still sorry for being such an ass. I know not everyone is like they were, it’s just hard for me to remember that sometimes.”

“You have PTSD, Colson. I triggered you, and I’m sorry for that.”

I turn to look at her, letting a soft smile dust my lips.

“I appreciate you sharing that with me. Do you still see your therapist?”

“Not regularly anymore, but he’s always a phone call away if I need him. When you first showed up, I started talking to him again. But he helped me come to terms with your presence, and as I got to know you better, I started to realize you’re not like the rest of them.”

She huffs a laugh. “And here I thought you had something against me specifically.”

I place my hand on top of hers. “It was never about you.” My thumb grazes the back of her hand, our eyes locked.

It would be so damn easy to lean in and kiss her right now.

But nothing’s changed. I may be opening up to her more, but she’s still leaving once we figure this out. And if I let myself get even closer to her than I already have, I’m only going to get myself hurt.

As if reading my mind, Holland tears her gaze from mine. It’s for the best. I’ve had enough hurt in my lifetime. I can’t let myself fall for a woman who could never fall for me back.

No matter how tempting she may be.