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An obligation he took so seriously that he’d cried in the dark over losing it.
In that instant, she felt outrageously spoiled.
“If you need a place to crash,” said Irish, “I’ve got room.”
She gave him a look, wondering if he was mocking her—or worse, putting the moves on. “That’s sweet, but I can’t leave James.”
“I didn’t say you had to.” Irish shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m almost never there.”
“Big-time party animal?”
“Biggest time,” he said flatly. He paused; then his voice dropped. “It’s a standing offer, Hannah. Just know it’s out there if you need it.”
She stared at him, watching storefronts fly by along Ritchie Highway behind him. “Thanks, Irish.”
He inhaled as if he wanted to say something else—then hesitated.
She narrowed her eyes. “Say it. What?”
Another hesitation. “I don’t want to dig myself deeper, but . . . have you ever just asked your dad to tell you what’s going on?”
“I’ve heard the confidentiality lecture about a dozen times, thank you very much.”
“I don’t mean asking him to break the law, Hannah.” He paused. “The other night, you implied that he doesn’t care about you. I think you’re way off base.”
Hannah wanted to snap and disagree, but she kept hearing her father’s voice in her bedroom this morning. I just want to keep you safe.
“He knows Michael,” she said, her voice losing some of the anger. “It’s not like I’ve been spending time with a foreign arms dealer or a drug smuggler.”
“No, you’re attached to a guy who’s been at the scene of two major crimes in the course of twenty-four hours.”
Fury flared, hot and quick, and Hannah almost came off the bench to get in his face.
Irish put up a hand. “I don’t even know the guy. I’m just saying. You can support someone and keep your eyes open at the same time.”
Her brain wouldn’t even wrap around this possibility. “He’s never given me any indication that he could be involved in anything like this.”
“Didn’t you mention to me that he’d been distant the last few weeks?” He paused. “And wasn’t his brother involved in something recently?”
“Yeah, but—” She stopped herself. Laid out like that, she wondered if she was being an idiot.
I don’t want you seeing Michael Merrick anymore.
She’d spent years resenting her father for the way he treated her. Was that blinding her to truths that might be right in front of her face?
The fire truck slowed to make a turn off Ritchie Highway, and she glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of the road sign.
“Chautauga?” she said. “There’s another fire in this neighborhood?”
Irish slid open the window separating them from the main cab. “What are we running, Chief? Another fire down this way?”
The fire chief glanced over his shoulder. “Looks like another dwelling fire on that last house on the cul-de-sac. At least we know it’s vacant. Report came in from law enforcement.”
“What?” said Hannah. “Wait. The last house—”
“That’s your boyfriend’s house, right?” said Irish.
She stared at him, thinking of the destruction on the first night, of the bombing on Friday. “Someone came back to finish the job?”
