Page 98 of Playing With Fire

Jodi shook off the snaky voice. This was a simple tidying up of loose ends, she told herself. A proper farewell between colleagues before Lieutenant Ricky Sharp headed back to his old unit in Far Rockaway—which, according to the local grapevine, was anytime soon.

The Fire Chief, it seemed, had decided that replacing the fire hoses in the town’s ageing fleet of fire trucks was a priority, given the recent spate of arson. The staff budget had been slashed accordingly.

Bubbles the boodle was about to have free rein.

Jodi reached the doorway. She stood there, suddenly unsure.

Since the night that the twins had been found, there had been no text or calls, simply silence. Sally Lett had handled all communications between the media and the town council.

“Stay there, Ricky! No get up!” Jaime’s small voice was emphatic.

Ricky was lying on his back on the none-too-clean carpet, pinned down by a growing pile of soft toys and wooden bricks. He nudged a pink bunny away from his chin.

“I’m stuck!” he gasped. “Help, Jaime!”

Jodi laughed. Startled, Ricky glanced towards the doorway. His eyes widened.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered, trying to rise.

Jaime immediately sat down on his chest and tried to whack him with the bunny. “Shit,” she repeated loudly, adding another bang for good measure. “Ricky, shit.”

He laid back with a groan.

Jodi shook her head. “That’s what you get for cursing in front of children,” she said lightly.

Ricky carefully lifted the child off his chest and demonstrated his impressive six-pack by rising up in one smooth motion.

“I’ll never be asked to babysit again,” he said wryly.

Jodi nodded. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was afraid he would hear it.

“I wanted to...” Her composure threatened to desert her but she battled on. “I wanted to thank you for believing me, and for believing in the boys. They are a bit wild, but they’ve found the family they need in the Beechams. The county has ruled against their father’s application and given the go-ahead for the adoption.”

Ricky nodded. “That’s brilliant. Yeah. Thanks for telling me.” He looked down and swiftly removed a crayon from Jaime’s mouth. “Quit that, honey.”

He threw Jodi a tentative smile. “I’m heading off soon, got the go-ahead to rejoin my unit. But I guess you already knew that. Probably even before I did.”

Jodi gave a modest shrug. “Well. Can’t beat the local grapevine.” She looked him over. “You’ll need a haircut.”

He scraped a palm over his bristly chin. “I have let myself go a bit.”

Talk about sparkling repartee, thought Jodi despairingly. They were like strangers, polite strangers chatting at the bus stop. She closed her eyes.

“Ricky...”

She opened her eyes again and saw the same longing in his face. The space between them seemed to shrink, as though an invisible cord was tugging them closer.

This wouldn’t do, not at all, thought Jodi. She sat down abruptly on a tiny wooden chair. Jaime walked over and dumped an armful of toys in her lap.

“Thanks, baby,” Jodi said with a smile. She tapped the child’s smooth cheek with her finger, wondering at the exquisite perfection of downy skin, the curve of cheek, and the trust in the child’s dark eyes.

“You’ve found a family too, sweetheart,” she said gently. She looked up and saw something flash across Ricky’s face.

“What about you Jodi?”

His voice was quiet, but his eyes searched hers, and the intimacy of his gaze, of the question, was piercing. Jodi’s automatic response, a throwaway line about being a grown-up woman with more than enough family responsibilities, thank you very much, died in her throat.

This, her brain and her heart and her body cried out in unison, this was what it was to be truly seen by another human. It was beyond romance or desire or flirtation. It asked, no, it demanded, that she let this man inside the prickly, proud carapace around her heart. That she see his wounds, too.

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