Page 42 of The Marriage Mission

At her question, Noah's expression closed off, as if a shutter had been drawn over his emotions. A wall rose between them, sudden and impenetrable.

Jacqui reached across the table, her fingers brushing his. Noah's fingers flexed. She thought he was moving away from her. But his fingers began to curl around hers.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn’t mean?—"

Before she could finish, the wail of fire truck sirens sliced through the air, startling both of them. They turned instinctively toward the sound, watching through the window as red lights flashed and fire trucks roared past, heading in the direction of Chow Town.

At the same time, Jacqui’s phone vibrated insistently on the table. She picked it up, her heart sinking as she read the incoming text.

"Jacqui, what is it?"

"There’s been a fire at the restaurant."

ChapterTwenty-Nine

The scene that unfolded before Noah was a visceral punch to the gut. The sight of it had him doubling over as he tried to draw in a breath, only to be dragged back through time and across continents. The front of Chow Town was swathed in chaos.

Fire trucks barricaded the street. Sirens wailed incessantly. Harsh, staccato bursts of radio chatter pierced the air. Flashing lights painted the scene in surreal strokes of red and blue while smoke billowed out, mingling with the sharp tang of burnt materials and the acrid bite of chemicals.

Noah moved closer, his steps uncertain, as though he suspected a live mine under the rocks in the cracked pavement. His ears filled with the familiar, unwelcome sound of his heartbeat thundering in his chest. The air was thick, not just with smoke but with the palpable tension of emergency responders moving swiftly, their shouts occasionally muffled by the masks covering their faces. Water streamed down the pavement, mixing with debris and, disturbingly, with traces of blood from minor injuries sustained during the evacuation.

It was too much. The sights, the smells, the sounds—they all merged into a grotesque echo of his last mission, the one that haunted his dreams. He had been the EOD tech on the ground, the one everyone counted on. But the bomb had been different, rigged in a way he hadn't anticipated. He had tried to defuse it, hands steady until the very moment they weren't. The explosion had been catastrophic, not just in physical damage but in the lives lost—friends and comrades who had trusted him to keep them safe.

Now standing here, it was as if the universe had cruelly dropped him back into that day. The guilt that had simmered just below his surface surged up, fierce and consuming. He couldn't breathe; he couldn't think. The guilt told him that this, too, was his fault. If he had never come to this town, would Chow Town still be standing?

"There's only superficial damage to your restaurant, Jacqui," a fireman was saying. "Just some burns in your office."

Jacqui could have been in that office if Noah hadn't driven her away from the restaurant. If he hadn't made her spend the day with him. If he hadn't threatened to kiss her in the car and then refused to let go of her hand.

Because he had done all those things, she was well. She was alive. He had to be thankful for that. But his brain still nagged him that the fire was his fault.

"It's the bakery that really took the brunt."

Tears stained Jacqui's blouse. But they weren't her tears. They belonged to her sister, who Jacqui held tightly in her arms.

From the outside, Chow Town bore only superficial scars—a bit of soot here, a water stain there—but the bakery was a different story. It looked like a wounded animal, hobbled and hurting. The bakery's large front windows, once gleaming and inviting, were now blackened and cracked, the charming display of pastries and breads replaced by the charred remains of a once-thriving business. The smell of burnt dough was heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the disaster.

Noah’s work at Chow Town had been meticulous; every wire and circuit had been given his full attention, ensuring everything met the highest safety standards. His brief work in the bakery, however, had been a different story. He’d only been asked to do a quick fix, a patchwork job that wasn’t meant to be a long-term solution but just enough to keep things running until he could give the establishment his full attention.

Now as he surveyed the damage, the burned-out façade, the collapsed roof section, and the firefighters moving through the ruins, Noah felt a deep, unsettling guilt. He knew, logically, that he wasn’t responsible for the bakery. He hadn’t been hired to fix it fully; he hadn’t been the one to make decisions about its overall safety.

Yet thewhat ifsplagued him, gnawing at his conscience. What if he had insisted on doing a complete job right away? What if his patch-job had been what failed the grid? Could he have prevented this?

The air around him was thick with smoke and the murmurs of onlookers and workers clearing debris. The sharp, acrid scent of electrical burn mingled with the sweeter, sadder smell of scorched pastry. The smell kept trying to bring him back to the past, back to when they'd pressed a medal in his hands that would never replace the loss of his friends.

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay."

Jacqui's words to Jules were a mantra. They slowly filtered through the haze of Noah's flashbacks, each one a lifeline thrown across the dark water of his thoughts. He took a deep, shuddering breath, tasting the coolness of the evening air rather than the hot, metallic tang of blood and explosives. He focused on Jacqui's steady presence, allowing it to pull him back from the precipice of his past.

The chief clapped Noah on the back, breaking his reverie. "You know, if it hadn't been for your work on the restaurant, this whole building would've gone down. The Chous would've lost everything."

Noah's mind flashed back to the moment he was awarded the Purple Heart. He had been heralded as a hero for saving lives, but all he could think about were those he hadn’t saved. The medal had felt heavy on his chest, a reminder of the cost at which it came.

As the chief walked away to oversee the cleanup, Noah's gaze lingered on the scene. The bustle of the firefighters, the crackling of the water-soaked embers, and the distant murmur of onlookers blended into a cacophony that seemed both distant and overly loud.

Turning, Noah spotted Jacqui standing a little ways off, her face lit by the glow of the emergency vehicle lights. She was talking to one of the firefighters, her expression one of determination and strength, yet he could see the strain around her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands.

Noah felt a tug in his chest, a deep-seated need to go to her, to wrap his arms around her and reassure her that they would rebuild together. But he also felt undeserving, still haunted by the ashes of his past and the too-fresh memory of today's losses. With a heavy heart, he turned away from the scene, each step feeling like a mile.

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