Page 11 of The Fire

Dana’s lips turned up at one corner. “By coming into your bar and having way too many beers?”

“Exactly.”

“Just like his daddy used to?”

“I… Well, yes. Exactly.” I frowned.Thathad pissed me off more than anything else. Jamie knew better. Back in the day, watching Jamie watch his dad self-destruct, I never would have believed Jamie could ever—

“And running his mouth about how terrible your place was? How the beer in his glass was too warm and the chicken was too…”

“Over-sauced,” I said, just a little bitterly. “Yes.”

“Throwing shit around,” she continued relentlessly. “Breaking chairs and having a temper tantrum. Also like his daddy used to?”

“Yes.”I rolled my eyes. “Clearly you recall it all as well as I do.”

“That sound like the boy you were friends with, once upon a time, Parker?”

That brought me up short. “No,” I admitted.

“Doesn’t sound like the man I’ve known all these years either. And a man like Jameson Burke doesn’t go Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde over a person he’s gotno feelings whatsoeverfor.”

I gave her a noncommittal shrug.

“What happened between you two?” Dana asked gently. “Ten years ago.”

“Eleven,” I corrected. I cleared my suddenly dry throat. “Eleven years and… a bit.” No one needed to know I kept track with the accuracy of a fucking atomic clock. “And nothing happened, exactly. We broke up when I left for school.”

I’d told that version of events so many times, the lie tripped right off my tongue, even as it made my stomach clench.

“Why?”

“Why what? Why’d we break up?” I shrugged. “Just seemed like the thing to do. Or do you mean why’d I go to college?” I paced to the closet and back again as Dana watched. “So I could have a chance at a decent future, get a good job, and make a solid income to support myself and any family I chose to have. The usual reasons.”

Dana blinked. “You’ve never sounded more like Lance Hoffstraeder than you just did.”

I snorted. That made sense, since he’d fed me that line a dozen times, at increasing volumes, when I’d suggested that I actually wanted something different.

“And Jamie? He wasn’t part of the plan? You were fine with leaving him behind?” she demanded, head tilted to the side in patent disbelief.

My mouth opened, then I shut it again. I shrugged.

It was funny, but no one in my life had ever questioned my story. Not my parents, not my college friends, not the one guy I’d tried to date seriously, not even Ethan—at least not to my face, though he’d heard my drunken ramblings about Jamie often enough that he probably knew there was more to the story than I’d ever discussed when sober.

When I’d mentioned Jamie, which wasn’t often, I’d called him my high school boyfriend, and let them fill in the details for themselves.Aw shucks, we were kids, there was never any future in it.

Except there had been a time when Jamie was myentireplan for the future. And breaking up had not been my choice.

I stared at my own reflection in the darkened window and remembered an afternoon eleven summers ago like it was happening right now. “In the end, he wanted me to go,” I said softly. “He dared me to. And I got it. Igetit. If you can’t be a hundred percent into something, you’ve gotta cut bait.” I smiled, just a little. “Just kinda sucks when you’re the bait, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Dana’s eyes looked troubled. “If it was his idea, then how come he—”

“I don’tknow. And anyway, it doesn’tmatter,” I said, forcing a laugh. “I mean, God, that was over adecadeago. Practically ancient times.”

Dana didn’t reply.

“When I came back to town, I hoped Jamie and I could get past it and be friends even though the romance ship had sailed a long time ago. But he’s not interested in being my friend.” I grinned broadly. “Crazy, right? I can hardly believe it myself.”

“Park—”