Page 9 of Wild Fire

“How much?” I ask, swallowing down the lump in my throat. I had hoped an inheritance or insurance money or something would have been at least enough of a cushion to get me started on renovations and fixing up the house, but now there’s definitely not going to be enough money to keep me going for a month or two and rebuild after something like this. Especially if I can’t find a job immediately.

“We can figure those details out later. Once you get some rest, and that is doctor’s orders.”

She stands up, offering her hand to help me stand.

I sigh, hanging my head low before I get up, knowing she’s right.

I do need rest.

Real rest.

“I can’t just stay in your spare room for free. You don’t even know me.”

I look at Lacey, at her friendly eyes and soft smile. “I mean, we just met. I could totally be a total serial killer.”

She giggles again. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t a serial killer.”

I scoff at her dismissiveness. “You don’t know that. I could be hiding bodies in the basement of this house, and you wouldn’t know any different.”

Lacey laughs, and her smile is genuine. Warm. It almost reminds me of Gram’s.

I should tell her no. Thank her for her kindness, and get in my car and get the hell out of Dodge. This would be the perfect chance, right?

Wipe my hands of everything and just… disappear.

I don’t need to fuck things up more than they already are. I am Mister Unlucky, after all.

“You’re right,” she says, and I sit up a little straighter, but she continues.

“Guess I’ll just have to trust you.”

I look back at her, my eyebrows furrowing. I know I don’t have much of an option, otherwise, and she does, too. I also know she’s right—I’m fucking exhausted right now. I’m tired of fighting when I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be fighting for anymore.

“Okay. Just for tonight, though.”

This is a bad idea. I just know it.

But if there’s one thing I am really good at, it’s making bad decisions.

I just pray that I can survive this one in more ways than one.

Chapter Three

AJ

There’s a rhythm, a sort of routine to taking off my gear and hanging it up, to washing up in the shower, to leaving the firehouse. Leaving home.

I know the firehouse isn’t actually home; home is the old farmhouse on the edge of town that has more land than I know what to do with.

When I bought the place years ago, I’d had every intention of fixing the place up; developing the land into something, I just never quite figured out what. Then life got busy with the firehouse and my classes at Shadows & Sin, and I almost sold the place because of Cal and that whole fiasco. I try not to think about it, or him. Try not to think about how I let my guard down for once, and it blew up in my fucking face.

Maybe my dad was right. Maybe I am unlovable.

Maybe it’s just better to teach rather than partake.

I should have known better than to mix business with pleasure, but Cal was… He was attractive and bold, and cocky as hell—at least in his day-to-day life. But when the lights dimmed and the doors of Shadows shut, he was someone else. It started out as just sex, but the more time I spent with Cal—at the club, at work—things just started to blend together until our dynamic bled into our work, and I let my feelings for Cal—who happened to be our head insurance claims agent at the time—see the parts of me I promised I would never let anyone see. And because of that, I damn near ruined my career. Because Cal wasn’t who I thought he was, and when he showed me the truth, I didn’t hesitate to expose him, regardless of our agreement. After catching him purposefully denying claims; claims I filed myself, the asshole had the audacity to report me for sexual harassment. He claimed I coerced him into our entire relationship and threatened him if he said a word. Of course, the guys knew it was bullshit, but the insurance company saw it less favorably.

They called it a scandal and called for me to resign.