Page 69 of His Own Heaven

Lucy burrowed against his chest and he felt her body expand as she took a deep breath. “We got a call out to a house fire,” she said softly. “A big old Queenslander that was being renovated, so lots of flammable shit lying around. By the time we got there it was more a case of containing the flames so they didn’t spread to the neighbouring properties. The house had gone up so damn fast, we didn’t think we could save it.”

She sniffed and sat up straighter, lifted her hand to play with the hair on his chest. He guessed it gave her something to focus on as she spoke, let her hide the tears he could feel wetting his chest.

“Dad was in charge that night, telling the crew where to go, what to do. The family had already gotten out of the house and were standing in front of their neighbour’s place. He sent me over to talk to them, to ask if everyone was out, but just as I reached them, the mother became hysterical, started screaming that her little boy was gone.

“Everyone had thought someone else was keeping an eye on him and he’d managed to slip away. The dad explained the kid had been upset because they didn’t bring his favourite toy with them. He said they’d looked but couldn’t find it, and fearing the fire was getting too big, they’d just grabbed their kids and run for it.

“I was heading back over to tell Dad when I saw the kid. It was just a flicker of movement in the bedroom window, like someone had run past it. A real blink-and-you-miss-it moment. The fire hadn’t reached that section of the house yet, but it was close. And the smoke was bad. Thick, black choking plumes of the stuff just billowing out of everywhere.”

Lucy paused and took a breath and Toby just kept rubbing circles on her back, not wanting to interrupt her chain of thought again. She needed to get it out and he needed to hear it.

“I knew I could get to the kid. Knew I could get him out. I was fast, faster than the men, and smaller too. I could squeeze in and out of places they couldn’t. So instead of taking the sixty seconds or more to tell my dad what I was doing, I shoved my face mask on and ran towards the house. Michael grabbed me, stopped me, but I yelled at him. I said, “Kid. Still inside.” And that was all the info he needed. We bolted up the stairs to the front door, Michael determined it was still safe to enter and we headed for the bedrooms.”

Toby frowned, tilted his head to look at Lucy’s face. When her eyes met his, he asked, “Was it safe to enter?”

Her eyes almost twinkled with mischief and he had her answer even before she spoke. “Not even remotely.” Then her sparkle dimmed. “But there was no way we were leaving that little boy to die alone.”

Pressing his lips to Lucy’s temple, Toby held her tightly for a moment and pulled her scent into his lungs. Her words caused a sense of pride to settle over him.

My woman.

“I found the boy hiding under his bed,” she continued, “a blanket pulled over his face and a floppy blue teddy clutched in his hand. He was crying, terrified. He just wanted his mum.” Lucy sniffed and shook her head. “But he wouldn’t come out, and every time I reached for him, he shied away even more. It was my mask,” she said quietly. “He was afraid of it. So I took it off, my flash hood too. I showed him who I was underneath, that he didn’t need to be scared. I told him I’d get him to his mum.”

Toby was on the edge of his seat. He’d already pieced together the outcome of Lucy’s story—the kid was saved, Lucy got burned and her brother died—but hearing her talk was both thrilling and horrific and he simultaneously wanted to hear more, and didn’t. He wanted to crush his lips to hers and silence her, stop the horror in its tracks, stop the vivid pictures her words elicited from forming in his brain and keeping him awake at night.

But he couldn’t. Because Lucy couldn’t. If just the thought of what happened threatened to keep him up at night, how the fuck did she live through it?

Lucy’s thoughts weren’t thoughts, they were memories. She didn’t just dream it up. She’d lived it. A living nightmare.

A nightmare that haunted her still, if her restless sleeping habits were anything to go by. Habits that again made him feel for her, made him wish his touch alone could soothe all her worries, take away all her pain. If Toby’s touch could do that for her, he would wrap Lucy in his arms and hold her forever.

He’d never let her go.

And it was then he realised what he’d been feeling, why he had such visceral reactions to the woman in his lap, his arms.

I love Lucy.

As ridiculous as it was, it was the only explanation that made any sense.

And it both thrilled and terrified him.

Because….

What if she didn’t love him back? They barely knew one another. And sure, she was willing to fuck his brains out and call him Sir and Master, and she was willing to date him publically and go out to dinner… but that didn’t mean she loved him. Or would ever love him.

And what about kids?

Did Lucy want a family of her own or would she be content to play auntie to his ever increasing horde of nieces? Would she leave him if he couldn’t give her a child of her own? If she did have kids, what kind of mother would she be? He’d already fantasised about seeing her belly swell with his child. Would knowing that freak her out as much as it did him? Or would she be on board with adding to the Bennett brood? There was also their age to consider, neither of them getting any younger….

Completely unaware of Toby’s inner battle, Lucy continued talking, her soft voice drawing him and his wild thoughts back to the moment.

“I heard a loud crack above us and knew we didn’t have long. The roof was collapsing. So I grabbed the kid’s arm and dragged him out from under the bed. Little bugger fought me the whole way. By the time I got him out from under there, I didn’t have time to put my mask and hood back on, so I just scooped the boy up and ran. He kicked and screamed every step of the way but we made it back to the front room unscathed. I passed him off to Michael who passed him out to someone else but then—”

Her body shook and a wretched sob tore from her throat. “The ceiling collapsed. Right on top of me. I was pinned on my side and couldn’t move. The smoke was so thick and I didn’t have my mask.” She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the memory. Toby held her tighter. “I heard Michael yell my name, I saw him reaching out for me then—” Lucy stared straight ahead, her eyes glassy with tears, staring, unblinking.

“Then…? What happened, baby?”

“He was gone,” Lucy whispered, her voice tight as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “The floorboards gave way beneath him and he fell.” She shuddered against him. “I could see him—my brother—I could see him through the hole in the floor. He’d twisted around and landed awkwardly on a pile of old Besser blocks. He—” Her breathing stuttered as she tried to control herself and her hands curled into fists. “He broke his neck.”

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