Page 3 of Fire

Of her pale legs sticking out of that useless shirt…

Her hair limp and covered in ash…

Something isn’t right.

The Ivy I knew was determined. Willing to fight the whole damn world if it got in her way. The woman walking away from me seems…smaller. Fragile.

I take a step in her direction, but a hand drops onto my shoulder. I turn to find Carson, helmet in hand, soot streaking his cheekbone. “Probie’s in there making a mess of Salvage. You wanna rip him a new one or can it be me? Come on, Tower. Let it be me.”

His grinning face juxtaposes the tension draped across my shoulders.

I risk one last glance at Ivy. She’s hugging her kid, rocking, and rocking, and rocking…

Her shoulders shake. Is she crying?

“Hey. Tower. You in there?” Carson leans into my field of view, grinning as he trots out the nickname Tucker gave me years ago. Everyone at the station thinks it’s hilarious, like calling the tall guy Tower is original or something.

I arch an eyebrow before returning my attention to the woman who should’ve been happier to see me.

“Probie just ruined a bed and he’s eyeballing that couch like he thinks he’ll do better this time. You wanna do something about that or keep ogling that hot piece of ass all night?”

Any other time, I’d give him shit for giving me shit, but not when he’s talking about Ivy. I whirl, glaring, then let out a long breath. Carson doesn’t know our history and there’s work to be done. It’s time to get my head in the game. Whatever’s going on with Ivy won’t get better if I let our probationary firefighter ruin all her furniture.

“Come on. Let’s show the Probester how it’s done.”

CHAPTER TWO

Ivy

“Ivy?”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no…

Grandma’s coming.

I shove my phone between my leg and the arm of the couch that’s been Nell’s bed in the week since the fire. Before that, this was my bed, but I’ve moved myself to a cot on the floor so my daughter can be as rested as possible for school. Which wasn’t exactly the case this morning, thanks to the one hundred and one questions about fires and firefighters she whispered my way last night—and every night since the fire. Nell’s curious mind doesn’t come with an off button.

Grandma pauses in the doorway, shaking her head. “We passed the point where you need to hide things from me right around the time you became an adult. Don’t you agree?”

I do agree. But it’s been a while since I felt comfortable doing anything without permission.

“I don’t know why I did that.”

“I do.” She leans on the wall, arching an eyebrow and looking feistier than ever. Her salt and pepper hair is cut short and tucked behind her ears. Jeans and a T-shirt highlight a trim frame and better posture than mine. She’s modern and strong and it suits her.

“Because I’m a silly woman who does everything wrong?” I cringe at what was supposed to be a joke but sounds exactly like the outlook I’ve been trying to erase since I moved in with her a month ago, right before Nell started school.

Thankfully, Grandma doesn’t call me on it. Her support has been everything I needed, almost like she’s gone through a situation like this herself.

Because she has.

“When your grandpa was alive, I felt like I had to hide everything from him, too. My likes, dislikes, thoughts, wishes, daydreams for the future…” She rolls a hand through the air to encapsulate everything she didn’t name. “It took years to feel comfortable existing my way.” She pats the wall almost lovingly, its vivid teal color something Grandpa never would have agreed to.

I spin a gigantic engagement ring around my left finger. The day it slipped into place felt like a promise of a beautiful future. Now, the damn thing feels like a leash.

A short one.

“You think me hiding my phone from you is because of Julian?”

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