Page 46 of Rescued Dreams

He was beginning to wonder if being a firefighter was like a safe haven for her. A situation she could control—especially as a lieutenant. It made him want to give up the spot to her. If he could, and if it would help her get a handle on everything.

God, let this be the right thing. For both of us.

“Hey.” She approached the porch step, a three-foot square of concrete. One of the twins had set a yellow plant pot there, but whatever had been growing died a while back from teenage neglect.

“Hey.” He stepped back, holding the door open.

She came into his quiet house, the TV on low. The lighting down so it didn’t have that harsh glare. He much preferred dimmer switches to the usual on-off wall plates. “I thought your sisters lived with you?” She turned in the entryway, almost nervous.

He’d never seen this side of Amelia, and he found he liked it.

Ridge shut the front door. “They both have work, so they’ll be back later.” Thankfully there was enough of this chicken and rice dish for a few days, something he liked to do so the twins had a good meal in the freezer if he was at work. They always made enough for more than one meal when they cooked. “Do you want some dinner?”

She looked like she needed a hug, but she might be hungry as well. “Am I a horrible person?”

“I don’t know.” He spoke carefully. “Are you?”

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m great!” She shoved his shoulder, nowhere near full strength. “You aren’t supposed to agree with me.”

She was genuinely worried.

Ridge snagged her hand before it went back to her side and held it between them. “You aren’t a horrible person. But I have no context, so tell me who that woman was and the whole deal. Then after, I’ll tell you what I think.”

Amelia said, “It’s a long story.”

“Then you’re right on time, because dinner is ready.” He squeezed her hand and let go, moving to the kitchen, where he dished up two portions and leaned over the sink to set the bowls on the breakfast bar. “The girls turned the dining room, or what should be that, into an office so they have somewhere to study other than the couch and their bedroom.”

She slid onto a stool, and he handed her a fork.

“Soda? Water?”

“Water.” She stared at the bowl. “Did you make this?”

“Smells okay, right?”

She set the fork down.

“We could say grace?” Was that her hangup right now?

“Not being the first to eat, it’s part of the story. I don’t want to jump ahead.”

Ridge twisted around on the seat and faced her. “Tell me what it is. Because I’ve seen you wait for others to eat first, and I’ve wondered, but I never asked why you do that.” In fact, he’d thought she might not notice she did it. But she clearly did.

“It could be poisoned.” She turned to him, her attention snapping around. Almost as if she was watching for him to disagree or disparage her for thinking that. “So I wait for someone else to eat first. Just in case.”

Ridge grabbed his fork and took a big bite of the chicken and rice. He blew out a breath around the food in his mouth. “It’s hot.”

She smiled and took a small bite.

“If you’re worried something is poisoned, caution is a good idea.” He wanted to ask a hundred questions about why she had that particular fear, but he needed her to feel safe enough to talk without his barrage of demands for answers.

“This is really good.”

“I promise, if I gave it to you, then it’s safe.”

“Thanks, Ridge.” She had a couple more bites, then said, “It’s actually connected to Cherry. That’s what she said her name was.”

He’d left them to their conversation, not wanting to intrude, but was eager to hear about it now. “Is she a friend of yours?”