Page 19 of Into the Fire

“Oh, stop.” She gave the back of his hand a light smack as he reached for her plate. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And I’ll give the dating scene another go one of these days.”

“Remember the immortal words of Babe Ruth. ‘Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.’”

Marc stifled a groan.

He should never have told her about Serena.

“Fear isn’t holding me back.” He picked up his plate too.

“Then it must be me.” Her forehead puckered. “I told you not to upend your life and move back to St. Louis just because I have a little health issue.”

“Breast cancer isn’t a little health issue.”

“It’s Stage 1. Very treatable.”

Also very scary, whether she was willing to admit that or not. If the diagnosis had givenhimsleepless nights, it had to have played havoc with her peace of mind.

“I know it’s treatable. But that treatment includes surgery, radiation, and five years of medication. That’s a big deal.”

“I’m done with the surgery and I’m already a week into radiation. I’m doing fine. Do you know how guilty I feel about all the changes you made in your life for me? I bet I ruined your romance too.”

“No, you didn’t.” He sat back down, set their plates on the table, and took her hand. It was past time to clear up that misperception once and for all. “You saved me from making a huge mistake. I want what you and Pops had, and to build on your baseball analogy, my relationship with Serena wasn’t in the same league. It wasn’t a priority for either of us—and that’s telling. Your news two months ago was the wake-up call I needed to realize Serena and I weren’t meant to be.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Wrong. I’m being honest. I came home because I wanted to. For you, and also for me. You’re all I have, and Chicago wastoo far away. When an opening came up here, I considered it providential. A chance for a fresh start on several fronts. Don’t ever feel one minute of guilt about my decision to come back.”

She searched his face. “I don’t want to cause you any regrets, Marc.”

Taking a leave from the National Response Team was his only one, but he could return to that after Nan was back on her feet and he was settled in here. An opening would come up again at some point.

He picked up their plates again. “At the moment, my biggest regret is the delay in our dessert. I stopped and got us macarons from that high-end French bakery you like.”

“You’re going to spoil me.”

“No more than you spoiled me while I was growing up. To this day, whenever I eat a chocolate chip cookie, I remember the homemade ones you had waiting for me after school every day.” He deposited the plates on the counter beside the sink and lifted the white bag he’d stashed behind the coffeemaker. “I got four flavors. Vanilla bean, raspberry, pistachio, and salted—” His phone began to vibrate, and he pulled it out.

Huh.

After nine days of radio silence, Bri Tucker had decided to touch base.

“If you need to take that, go ahead.” Nan pushed herself to her feet. “Nature is calling. Besides, anticipation will add to my enjoyment of our splurge dessert.” She winked and squeezed his arm as she passed.

Marc leaned back against the counter and put the cell to his ear, a smile tugging at his lips. Talking to a beautiful woman was never a bad way to end the week.

Especially a woman he’d begun to assume he’d never hear from again.

Bri returned his greeting and got straight to business. “I realize it’s late in the day, but if you have a few minutes, I’dlike to bring you up to speed on the Les Kavanaugh fire. There have been a few new developments.”

“I was beginning to think you’d put that one to bed.”

“No—and I may be working it for a while in light of information I got today that raised several red flags.”

“I’m all ears.”

He listened as she filled him in on the autopsy and tox reports, as well as her conversation with the victim’s daughter.

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