Page 63 of Found Through Fire

I’m not sure when Flame left this morning; I was just focused on getting away from the scene that I interrupted in the kitchen as fast as I could. I should have done a fuckin’ perimeter check before I left. I was careless because I was thrown off my game. I won’t let that happen again. I can’t escape to my room or leave the house to avoid interacting with her. It leaves her vulnerable.

After seeing how she worked on the job and being around her and her family, I have a better picture of who she is. She’s fierce and reckless, but I also has a selfless and caring side of her when she’s with her family. I’m starting to see why the soldiers on base look at her like she hung the fuckin’ moon.

I know she’s opening a business for the retired guys that I would see wandering around base. I used to question why they stuck around when they no longer had a job to do. She was giving them a place to still feel included instead of them being turned away when they could no longer be a part of Vital. I saw the genuine concern that she had about how her dad and brothers would feel while being away from her, that she would let me—someone who has been nothing but a dick to her—in her space to ease their worries.

Seeing her softer, caring side made me see how wrong I was about her being an entitled, rich princess that had no care for her family’s feelings. She just found a way to live the life that she wanted, all while doing her best to take other people’s feelings into account. After I understood that, I decided to be civil with her.

It’s been awkward. I haven’t had a real conversation with a woman that wasn’t work related since my wife was alive. Other women were never on my radar before, or even after her death.

I thought it was going well, but having Flame there was making the awkwardness worse. She was comfortable around him, despite knowing me longer. Not to say that I could blameher. I was an ass to her, but she always rose to the occasion to put me in my place. That’s the other obstacle I have to overcome.

I’ve never had to have a conversation with a woman like Willow. I’ve only had experience with stuck-up rich women, trying to get their claws into me before I found my wife and left my parent’s social circle. My wife, Addison, was so soft-spoken and sweet that I had to dig to know how she felt about things. The first group I had to protect myself from, and the other I had to protect from the world.

I never tried to find common ground with a woman that could hold her own in any situation, but also had a softness to her. I never wanted to have a relationship with another woman after I let down Addison, but I could have a civil relationship with Willow—maybe a friendship, since it seems that she can deal with my pissed-off attitude and not be intimidated when I’m being an asshole.

The creaking from the gate opening makes me shake off the shitstorm of thoughts. I drive up to the house, park my truck, grab my bag, and jump out as fast as I can. I scan the property as I make my way to the door and don’t see anything alarming, but I can feel someone’s eyes on me.

This creepy fuck is still here, watching us lose our heads after his message, and I’m kicking myself all over again for leaving Willow vulnerable. Flame did, too, but he wasn’t trained for this. He isn’t constantly haunted like I am by the shit I’ve seen during my career. This is why the woman should stop her side business. She’s opening herself up to shit that no twenty-four-year-old should.

I make it to the front door and knock. It takes a minute, and my thoughts start going to what could be taking her so long, knowing that she would have been able to see that it was me at her gate. What if he has her and opened the gate for me while she’s incapacitated somewhere in the house?

Just as I’m about to follow through with the plan to kick the fuckin’ door down, it opens, and a tired-looking Willow stands on the other side. She looks like she’s trying to keep all of the pieces together. She gives me a tired half-smile, turns around, and walks away, leaving the door open for me to follow.

It wasn’t the same small, shy smile that she gave Flame. Not sure why that bothers me. I get why she is cold towards me, but I still don’t like it.

I follow her to the kitchen as she starts to fill up a cup with her coffee. I’ve noticed that she will drink it all day and into the night, and even more when she’s stressed.

She leans against the counter next to the pot, lifts the cup up to her face, closes her eyes, and takes a sip. She’s wearing tight jeans today instead of her usual shorts, along with an old T-shirt that’s almost threadbare, and is barefoot instead of wearing her crazy socks that she’s always in. Her wild hair is tied up today, and she doesn’t seem to be wearing makeup.

After living with her for a few weeks, I can confidently say that she is not like other women I have known. She’s low maintenance when it comes to her appearance, never out to impress anyone. She takes another slow sip from her cup like she’s trying to peacefully savor it.

After a second, she opens her eyes and looks surprised to see me there. She recovers and says, “I hope you weren’t busy when Dad called you. It’s your time off, and I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

I can tell she’s serious, but I seriously can’t understand this woman. She can go from being an indestructible force one moment and a thoughtful, bleeding heart the next. I’m not sure I will ever be able to figure her out.

“No. I was just in the gym when Michael called. He told me about the email. Do you have an idea if he was using a long-range camera? Or do you think he was closer when he took thepictures?” I ask, trying to get all the facts. Michael didn’t really go into detail, he just seemed pissed.

I get that this is a difficult situation, but usually, he can stick to the facts and push his feelings back. On the phone, he let some irritation bleed through his calm and collected exterior. Whatever the pictures were of must have been hard for him to look at.

“They were from different angles and through the doorways, so I am assuming he was on the property, looking in,” she answers as she grabs the coffee pot and tops off her cup, filling it once again to the brim. “I texted Knox, and he should be here soon. He seemed like he was in a hurry to come back.” She looks up at me and adds, “Did you want a cup?”

“No, I had my cup for the day before the gym, and I’m not making the mistake of drinking your coffee again. It was so strong when I tried it in Columbia that I couldn’t sleep that night. I think it should come with a health warning on whatever kind you buy,” I reply.

“Maybe you would be a happy-go-lucky guy if you had a little more pep in your step. Think of all the possibilities of a happy Grey! The world wouldn’t know what hit ‘em,” she says with a straight face. I can never tell if she is serious or being a smartass, and after living with her for a while, I just assume the latter.

“At this point, if I do, people may think I’m possessed. I don’t want to walk around getting holy water thrown at me like a wet T-shirt contest during spring break,” I mumble out.

She gasps. “Grey. Did you just make a joke?!” she asks in a shocked voice. She looks at me in awe and continues, “I feel like we just hit a milestone in our relationship! I should take a picture and make a photo album to give you for Christmas!”

“You’re not serious, right?” I ask, almost afraid that sheisbeing serious. The more I learn about Willow, the more I understand that she can be an unhinged wildcard at times.

“If I confirm or deny, it could ruin Christmas, and I won’t do that to either of us,” she deadpans. I decide to let that go as I hear her phone go off. I’m assuming it’s the gate alarm, and when she checks it and seems calm, I take it that Flame is here and she opened the gate for him, too.

She takes another sip of coffee, mumbling about “alpha-ing out” and “overreacting” before I hear hard knocks at the door with a loud, “Willow!” coming from the other side. She rolls her eyes so hard, I’m not sure how she didn’t pull a muscle, and walks to the door.

When it opens, Flame busts through the door. He seems collected until I see the frantic look in his eyes. When they lock on me, they turn hard, like he’s pissed I got there before him. I smirk a little, knowing that I was able to get to Willow before the guy that apparently “claimed” her.

I’ve noticed he has been touching her more and that she seems to be okay with it. I’m not sure why I care—probably because she is the boss’s daughter and it’s in “the code” for us to look out for her.