Page 9 of Up In Flames
“How much do you know about how they died?” I’d still tell him the truth no matter what, but how I told him and what I said would depend on what he already knew about the accident. I wanted to help him, not harm him further.
“They died at the scene. I didn’t ask about their specific injuries. I don’t want to know.” He sounded almost frantic. “I can’t know that. Please. Just…”
Tears filled his eyes, and he dashed them away. His gaze swept through the café, and he curled in on himself, trying to hide from view. “Did they—do you think—” Oren sucked in another shaky breath. “Did they suffer?”
Even if they’d died slow and painfully, I’d have lied my ass off to spare Oren any further pain.
“No. They wouldn’t have felt anything. It was—they were gone when we arrived.”
He let out a long shuddering breath, and I realized that he was going to break apart right in front of me. Without thinking, I got up and moved my chair closer to his. His arms were still wound around his body, and I wrapped mine around him, pulling him into a hug.
At first, he went rigid, but then he exhaled, and a choked sob came out. I heard him struggle to get himself under control. His breath hitched, and he sniffled as he drew all his anguish back inside him and tucked it away again. I wasn’t sure how long I hugged him for, but suddenly he wasn’t stiff anymore. He went pliant against me and drew in a deep breath. Slowly, he pulled away, and I released my hold on him. Though I didn’t want to.
Stupid attraction. Oren was exactly my type. Pretty hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair. He had a strong jaw and sweet round cheekbones. Thick eyelashes fluttered, shedding salty tears that he swiped away.
“Shit. Sorry. That’s embarrassing.”
“It’s not,” I told him. “You went through hell, Oren.”
He sniffled and pulled further away. I watched him regain control of himself. Watched him take a few deep breaths and swipe the remaining moisture off his face. He threw walls up around himself, but they seemed unstable, like they were built on a foundation of sand.
After a moment, he lifted his gaze and met mine. “You didn’t tell me how lucky I was.”
His voice was cold and hard, like he was still trying to get his defenses back into place. “Everyone tells me that when they find out. But you didn’t.”
I took a sip of my coffee. It had started to get cold during our conversation and the time it had taken Oren to collect himself, but I’d drank plenty of cold coffee before.
“I’ve been a firefighter for long enough to know that not everyone who goes through hell feels lucky when they get to the other side. You’re alive, and that matters. I’m glad you made it, but it can be hard to feel lucky when you lose things that are important. Friends. Family. Houses. Livelihoods.”
Oren dropped his gaze to his half-drank lemonade. He traced a finger over the condensation on the outside of the glass. “I didn’t feel lucky. I still don’t.” He shrugged. “My therapist called it survivor’s guilt.”
“I’m glad you’re seeing someone.”
He took another sip of his lemonade. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, especially not when he licked his lips after. My dick twitched at the little sigh he let out. I bit the inside of my cheek and reminded myself that I didn’t do crushes on straight men. That was only asking for trouble.
“My therapist is the only person I see lately besides people in my office.” Oren winced. “Sorry, I’m trying not to dump all my shit on you. I should go.”
“No, it’s fine.”
He had started to stand, but I put my hand on his arm and motioned for him to take a seat. “If you wanted, the guys at the station do this big fundraiser barbeque every year, and it’s next weekend. We host it down at Wilbur Park. There’s games and prizes and even some face painting if that’s your thing. You should come.”
Oren’s mouth twitched. “Face painting?”
“Yeah. You’d make a good tiger.”
“Are you calling me a giant pussy?”
Shock rolled through me. “No, of course not. I—you’re fucking with me.”
“Possibly.” He hid his smile behind his glass as he took another sip of his drink.
For a fleeting moment, Oren seemed unencumbered by his past. The respite from his grief was brief, but for a moment he shone, like he’d forgotten about the sadness he wore like a cloak. I wanted to see him like this again. Crushing on a straight man was dangerous, but I couldn’t help my attraction to Oren or my bone-deep desire to make him smile again.
Even though nothing would ever become of my crush, I wanted to help him. Oren clearly needed friends. Maybe it was arrogant to think that he might need me in particular, but the idea had taken root in my brain. He’d sought me out at the pub and again at the station.
“Come to the barbeque.”
Oren hesitated. “What if they ask why I’m there?”
