Page 72 of Burn With Me

I look over my shoulder to see her walking up to me.

I love how natural she looks, her red hair piled high on her head with her glasses on and not a trace of makeup, just wearing leggings and a hoodie.

“Hey, sweetness, how was your day? Did everything go well with the professor who came down?”

She leans in to grab the food and gestures to the whiteboard. “What’s this for?”

“I want to use it to work through some things with the fires that have been happening more frequently around town.”

“Oh, makes sense.” She nods. “The visit with the professor went really well. The feedback and ideas she had were great. She suggested that the mediums might be breaking down faster than we thought, which might be causing a flux in numbers. She also took some samples of water to run at the full lab.”

I close the door with my foot, my overnight bag in hand and the whiteboard under my arm. “That’s good to hear though. You were excited to meet her, maybe this is a good connection to have.”

“Oh, for sure. She wants to have some of her students intern for credit with me, and she offered to have me come to the college and talk to the students interested in aqua- or hydroponics. I have a good feeling about her. She seemed really interested in helping.”

One of the many things I love about her is how passionate she is about not only her business but also how she wants to help others in the field, whether they’re veterans or students. She’ll never turn someone away if she can help it.

She opens the door, and we let Penny walk in ahead of us, and Amelia sets the food on the counter.

“Where can I put this?”

Without stopping to unpack the food, she says, “My office works. We can set one side up for you if you need it. Tell me more about the fires you’re helping investigate. Do you think it’s a group of kids just setting fires randomly? Is there an open investigation regarding the fires?”

I walk down the hall to the one door that’s always closed and open it. I take in the only room in the house I haven’t explored. She has an L-shaped desk off to the side with a couple of photos of her, Pam, and Sam, and one with her and a woman who looks just like her.

“You can just put it on the other side of the room. We can hang it up if it’s easier for you. I don’t spend a ton of time here,” she says as she walks down the hallway.

“Hey, is this your mom?” I ask her.

Sadness fills her eyes. “Yeah. It was right before senior year. We had just done my graduation pictures and were heading to lunch,” she says with a heaviness in her tone.

“You said she passed away, right?”

Thirty

Ameila

Istare at the photo he’s pointing to, and I don’t have the energy for this conversation, but regardless of what’s going on, this conversation never gets easier.

“Yeah, there was an accident right before my senior year. A drunk driver hit her when she was on her way to work one morning.”

Framing my face with his hands, he rests his forehead on mine. “Oh, sweetness, I’m so sorry. Is that why you said the Sanchezes took you in?”

I lean into his warmth. “Yeah, they didn’t even hesitate. Pam was at my house when the cops came, and her parents met us at the hospital.” I pause to take a deep breath. “They helped me with everything, and I’ll never be able to repay them for that. Not that they expect it, but I know they weren’t expecting to take in an extra almost adult out of nowhere.” Pam’s parents wouldn’t even let me entertain the idea of staying anywhere else, and to be honest, I’m not sure I would have made it if I had been alone. “They got me into therapy and even talked to the therapist to make sure they were doing the right things.”

“What about your dad?”

“My dad was never in the picture. He was notified but didn’t live in the same state, and the Sanchezes made it clear that uprooting me right before my senior year wasn’t the best choice. Not that I would have stayed since I turned eighteen in October of that year. Thinking back, I probably would have gone there if I had to and left the day I turned eighteen to go back.”

He leans in and takes my lips in the sweetest kiss. Like he thinks he can take the pain away from me with just this kiss.

I lick the seam of his lips for him to open, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls away and puts his forehead back to mine. Sliding his hands from my face, he places one on my neck and the other on my butt. I shiver with need because apparently, after not having sex for five years, I want it all the time like a sex-crazed teenager.

“Let me feed you and get our lunches ready, and you can tell me about the trip to the store. Then we can walk Penny . . .thenI can take you to bed, and you can have your wicked way with me.”

I moan at the thought. “We could eat dinner after . . .”

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