Page 59 of Up In Smoke

I draw back and kiss his lips softly. The fact that I can do that sends such a thrill all through my body. “You big damn hero. You’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Were you just born that way? Because it’s hot as fuck.”

I thought maybe my brave admission about how attracted I am to him might crank the heat back up between us. Because now I have a better idea of how he’s feeling, I’m even more turned on than before.

But he stills and looks at me. “You really don’t remember, do you?” he asks sadly. “Adam probably never said anything. You were still in Hollywood, I suppose. Filming your show.”

Guilt rushes through me. “Remember what?” I ask, dread pooling in my stomach. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Have I been a total dick?”

“No, no, you haven’t,” he says urgently. He cards his fingers through my hair. “If you never knew, that’s not your fault. But…no. I wasn’t born a natural hero. I don’t think I was a bad kid, but all teenagers are pretty selfish, I guess. At least that’s what the grief counselor told me at the time.”

Grief counselor?

Despite what he said, I feel awful. I’ve obviously missed something really important. It’s tempting to spiral into self-loathing. However, it hits me in that moment that he’s right. I couldn’t know I didn’t know something. But I can be here for him here and now.

I can pay back some of the limitless kindness he’s shown me. Even if it’s just a fraction.

“What happened, Rico?” I murmur. “If you feel able to tell me, I want to listen. I’m here for you.”

He shivers and closes his eyes, his fingers digging into me like my words physically hurt him.

I was so concerned that his rejection might break my heart, but I find it’s cracking anyway. My poor, brave firefighter. He’s always taking care of everyone else.

Who takes care of him?

Can that be my job now?

“I’m here for you,” I repeat, rocking him slightly and caressing the back of his neck as I hold him tight.

“It was my fault,” he says, his voice raw. I seriously doubt that, but I stay quiet, giving him time and space to get whatever he needs to off his chest. “I was fifteen. My sister was nine…a little younger than you.”

Sister?

Ice runs through my veins. Rico never had a sister…did he?

“My parents went out to dinner, and I was supposed to be watching her,” he continues. “But she wanted to play with her dolls, and I wanted to play my video game, so I didn’t see any harm in us doing our own thing.” He pauses and screws up his eyes. I rub his back, guessing where this is going.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

But he gnashes his teeth and shakes his head. “I had my headphones on. I thought the fire alarm was part of my game. The only reason I stopped and took the headphones off was because I suddenly smelled smoke, and by then, the blaze was already in the hall outside my bedroom. I called for Emmy and tried to get to her room, but I couldn’t hear her, and the fire was too hot. I figured she was downstairs and already made it out, so I went through my window, and…”

“Oh, Rico,” I utter, my heart breaking for his younger self.

“They told me it was an electrical fault. Emmy…she died from smoke inhalation, at least, and not…well…”

I can’t imagine the horror of it all and I’m not sure what to say. How could I not have known this for so many years?

“My parents never directly told me it was my fault,” Rico continues heavily. “We all knew it was, though.”

“What?” I snap, leaning back to frown at him. If I’m not allowed to demonize myself, then neither is he. “It was an accident, and you were a kid, Rico. What were you supposed to do? If you’d jumped into that fire, you’d both have died, and?—”

I can’t stop my words from choking off. The idea that he could have been lost that day as well destroys me.

“The world needs you,” I manage to force out.I need you.“Think of all the hundreds of people you’ve saved as a firefighter since. More, probably. I’m so incredibly sorry about your sister. But you can’t still be blaming yourself for a terrible tragedy that happened a couple of decades ago.”

He laughs hollowly. “My parents do,” he says quietly, his eyes closed again. “They never looked the same at me again. I don’t think they wished she’d lived and I died, but our relationship certainly flatlined that day. They can’t see me without thinking of her.”

“That’s not fair,” I insist stubbornly. “You suffered enough without them doing that to you as well.”

He simply holds me for a few moments before sighing and rubbing my back. “You didn’t deserve the way your parents gave up on you, either,” he says firmly. “Adam still hasn’t forgiven them for that, in case you didn’t know.”