I have to tilt my head down to see her the same way she has to tilt hers up to meet my gaze, the top of her head coming to my chest. I fist my hands at my side, resisting the urge to see if the material of her crewneck is as soft as it looks, to see if the skin beneath it is even softer.
This is the closest I’ve been to her since the night of her crash, and it is everything I didn’t know I needed. Her hair smells like vanilla, but there’s a hint of smoke—and I don’t want to admithow weirdly perfect the scent is on her. Up until tonight, the smell of smoke made my heart rate speed to the point it felt like I was having a heart attack, but right here? Right now?
Mixed with the scent ofher?
It’s like a glimpse of who I was before the fire, before Bennett died, before the only peace I could find was on the lake.
And maybe that’s why the words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Then it looks like I owe you some cookies.”
CHAPTER 14
RUMI
Almost settingmy house on a fire while masturbating in the bathtub is a secret I will take to my grave.
Along with the fact I was fantasizing about my newesthot, firefighterfriend five minutes before heliterallykicked down my front door.
Talk about a fantasy.
It’ll be hard to keep the latter to myself—seeing as though Ava will be home any minute and see our front door on the ground and said friend inspecting our home for potential fire hazards—but the former will die with me.
“I didn’t know firefighters made cookies in between, you know, fighting fires,” I reply to Jack, looking up into his green eyes, my arms crossed over my chest to put at least some space between us.
Last night, I felt like I needed the space.
Tonight, it feels pointless, like my body needs to be near him despite my mind warning me to keep my distance.
Because I know the story of how his best friend died, I knew he was a firefighter. I guess I just didn’t know hestillwas. I can’t imagine how hard it is to come back to a job where you experienced such a loss.
I wonder if he knows how admirable that is.
“We don’t,” he answers, and his lips twitch to one side of his mouth, as if he doesn’t want to let his smile show. He’s let it slip a few times, but it’s like he prefers to keep them to himself. “But, we’re friends. And friends don’t let other friends eat burnt cookies.”
“Who’s eating burnt cookies?” I hear from my back patio, and I can’t help but flinch at the surprise or stop the gasp that escapes. I hate leaving my windows or doors open, especially when I’m home alone, but there was no other way to get the smoke out. Our yard is fenced in, but someone could easily get over it, and with the glass door open, the screen one being the only thing between me and whoever is out there.
“Hey,” I hear, and I feel a gentle touch on the side of my face. “It’s just my partner,” Jack says quietly, and my body instantly relaxes. His palm is calloused and rough against my cheek, but, for a moment, I find myself leaning into the warm touch, the safety I feel in it.
“What the fuck?!” This voice doesn’t make me flinch because it’s one I’ve heard everyday for the last year, but it does bring me back to the moment as Jack’s hand falls back to his side and we both take a step back.
Ava’s home, and I already know she’s not at all ready for the scene she’s walking into.
As she heads down the hallway that leads to the kitchen from our entryway, I take a moment to look around the space while Jack walks over to the screen door of the patio, sliding it open to talk to his partner. The man has a similar build to Jack, only a few inches shorter, with shaggy brown hair that is too dark to be considered blonde but too light to be considered brunette. They’re both dressed in cargo pants and a Northshore Fire Department T-shirt, and it’s no wonder firefighters pose shirtless for calendars.
Ava’s hair is tied up in the same messy bun she wore when she left, the pieces falling out a little curlier from being in the water. Evee’s asleep against her shoulder, exhausted from her swim class. “What the hell happened here?” she asks as she looks around the kitchen. Her eyes blink rapidly as she takes everything in, her mouth slightly ajar.
The smoke has cleared from the night breeze coming in through the opened windows and doors, but the two very large—veryattractive—men, one of whom she met yesterday, stand just inside our back patio.
“I’m Anderson Jones, and this is Jack Hasting,” Jack’s partner—Anderson—says, breaking the silence and stepping into the house, reaching out a hand to Ava. Ava’s eyes immediately go to the floor where the man steps, no doubt noticing that they didn’t take off their boots.
I don’t have to see her feet to know Ava took off her shoes when she walked into the house, even with the surprise and confusion I’m sure she had finding our front door no longer on the hinges.
“Rumi,” she says, turning to me and ignoring Anderson and his outstretched hand. Her voice is calm—too calm—which makes it even scarier.
Anderson runs his hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.
“Can you please tell me why there are two firefighters in our house right now?” She knows I don’t like making her upset, and she always tries to hide when she is, but this unsettling, overly composed thing she does when she’s mad always makes me feel like I have to apologize for anything and everything.
“I’m sorry. I accidentally set off the fire alarm,” I tell her, and I feel three different pairs of eyes on me.
