Page 118 of Steel

She turned her head and even in the fading light, I could tell she was scrutinizing me. “Most people would think that’s not a logical career.”

“Logical? I rush into fires for a living.”

While I laughed, her shrug was noncommittal. So was her heavy sigh as she stared out the passenger window. “You save lives.”

“In a way you saved mine.”

“How so? By not killing you with a log?”

Spitting out the breath of air I’d taken, I threw her a soulful look. The one she was giving me was more intense. “Well, there is that, but I’m talking about because of what you reminded me of.”

“Which was?”

My turn to shrug.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You’ve seen me at my lowest so spill it. Or else.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh. Yes.”

Our perfected banter would always bring a smile to my face. “You reminded me that there was more to life than fighting fires or locking myself away in a room with nothing but a boxing bag.”

“Which I could use right about now.”

“You’re always welcome in my house.” And I meant that. “Always.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was a heaviness about our conversation that didn’t need words and had little to do with either losing Zorro or even how Kenneth had rattled her. There were words that needed to be said, but a lack of understanding about what doing so would mean. Yet opening one’s soul completely to one another was difficult, more so than most people could understand.

“Good. You should. I always want you to feel like Missoula is home.” There. I’d said what had been continually on my mind. At least partially admitting the way I felt about her.

As I continued the drive, the silence between us was as unnerving as the tension. Perhaps more so because before Zorro had been returned, we’d started talking about anything and everything. The subject hadn’t mattered. Although I realized that almost everything I’d learned about her had been superficial.

Not that discovering her favorite color and preferred toppings on pizza weren’t important, but I knew very little about her family. Or her hopes and dreams. Like longing to become an author. If only I was so talented.

“I think we should go back. Damon has said very little. He started holding everything inside about two years ago. That’s when the behavioral issues started. And he’s so smart. He’s skipped a couple grades and his teachers think he could skip two more. I just don’t think he’s ready for high school. Not now.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

She nodded. “A brilliant kid with few outlets for his rage. According to his psychologist. Now, the puppy. I have a terrible feeling Damon’s spirit will be crushed.”

“Look. You need to take care of you so we’re not turning around, but Ziggy’s it is. We’ll only stay for a couple hours.” I pulled up to a light, hoping that my compromise would be enough.

“Maybe.”

“No maybes,” I teased, struggling to find the right way of bringing her out of such despair. “My truck. My rules.”

This time, she did nothing more than turn her head toward me.

Was there actual venom in her eyes as I’d experienced before? Wait. Hold on.

“Your rules,” she repeated.

“You heard me and if they are not followed, there will be consequences.” While I was teasing, my tone was evidently too rough.

Which prompted her to huff just before managing to yank off her seatbelt and open the door.