Page 16 of The Heat Between Us

"Yeah," I admit. "About how close it was."

Chloe sets down her spoon. "But we made it. Thanks to you."

"Thanks to my team," I correct. "I just found you. They got us out."

"After you kept me alive long enough for them to find us," she insists. "Don't sell yourself short, Lewis. You saved my life."

There's a warmth in the way she says my name that does something to my insides. I've never been good at accepting praise—it makes me uncomfortable, especially when I'm just doing my job. But her gratitude feels different, somehow. More personal.

"Anyway," I say, clearing my throat, "what matters is you're going to be fine. And we need to figure out our next steps."

"Our next steps?" she echoes, raising an eyebrow in a way that's both challenging and playful.

"Your next steps," I amend, feeling my face heat slightly. "Getting you settled somewhere safe while you recover, figuring out your options for a new office space, that kind of thing."

Chloe's expression turns thoughtful. "I should call my insurance company. And I need to get in touch with Mrs. Finch—my landlord. I'm supposed to start paying rent this week." She sighs, pushing away the half-eaten breakfast. "I had everything so carefully planned, you know? And now..."

"Now you adapt," I say firmly. "Plans change. It's what you do next that matters."

She studies me for a moment, then smiles. "You sound like you've had some experience with that."

"A lifetime of it," I admit. "I'm not exactly known for my stellar planning skills. Just ask Ollis."

"Your brother, right? The one who became a firefighter first?"

I nod, touched that she remembers this detail from our conversation in the fire. "Yeah. He's the responsible one. I'm the one who changes direction with the wind."

"And yet you've been a firefighter for how long?" she asks.

"Six years," I say.

"That doesn't sound like someone who changes direction with the wind," she points out. "That sounds like commitment to me."

Her observation catches me off guard. I've never really thought about it that way. In my family, Ollis was always the dependable one, the one who knew what he wanted and went after it with single-minded focus. I was the one who drifted from interest to interest, never quite settling. But she's right—I've been with the department for six years now, longer than I've stuck with anything else in my life.

"Maybe you're onto something," I concede.

Before she can respond, there's a knock at the door, and Chief Brock enters, still in uniform. His stern expression softens slightly when he sees Chloe awake and alert.

"Ms. Bennett," he says with a nod. "Good to see you recovering. Mind if I have a word with my firefighter here?"

Chloe glances between us, concern flickering across her face. "Of course not."

I stand, giving her what I hope is a reassuring smile. "I'll be right back."

Chief Brock leads me into the hallway, his expression unreadable. I brace myself for the lecture I know is coming. Going into that building alone, without proper equipment, was against protocol. I don't regret it—not when it means Chloe is alive—but I know the chief has to maintain discipline.

"How's she doing?" he asks, surprising me with the question.

"Good," I say. "Doctor thinks she can be discharged this afternoon."

He nods. "And you? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Chief. Really."

He studies me for a moment, then sighs. "You know what you did was reckless."

"I know," I acknowledge. "But I'd do it again."

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