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“What about me?” I bend forward and rest my elbows on the desk. “He’s never come for me. He doesn’t even speak to me. If we’re on the right track with all this, then why didn’t she get flowers from me? Why isn’t my truck on fire?”
“That house we got called out to…” Nix takes a moment to collect his thoughts, then presses a thumb to his temple and closes his eyes. “It was condemned, wasn’t it?”
“Which house?”
“The one where you fell through the floor.” Lifting his head, he meets my eyes across the desk and flattens his lips. “You broke your fucking leg, Axe. You were already spiraling, trying to push Hannah away. Then you fell.”
“You’re telling mehelit that bitch up? To get me away from her?”
“I don’t…” He shakes his head. “I dunno. It’s possible. Hypothetically. But every time you tried to push her away, she came back stronger. She wasn’t letting you go.”
“Cootes.” Blood drains from my face and lands somewhere in the bottom of my stomach. “Don’t, Lew. Hannah and I…” I swallow the burn in my throat. “We were finally together, the night of the Oriane fire.”
“And the cause of that blaze was a mystery wire in the walls,” he snarls. “They declared it bad luck, an accident.” He shoves up from his seat until it rolls back and bounces off the wall. “Investigators ruled it as old wiring unable to stand up to the load of a new building. But Ialwaysthought that was bullshit.”
He balls his fist and thrusts it toward his door. “That fire nearly killed me, my son, and my entire fucking family. If he was spinning out because you landed the girl and he wanted you back on duty and in danger, then I’m about to head over there and kill him myself, with my bare fucking hands.”
“Hold up, Lieutenant,” Preston murmurs, entirely too calmly. “If the investigation says wiring, then it was wiring. We can’t go slinging murder charges at a guy because we don’t like him.”
“Theformalreport says it was wiring,” he growls. “But talk amongst the brass was‘I have no fucking clue.’They couldn’t point it any other way, so they rubber-stamped it—new building, bad luck—and moved on.”
The alarms ring out above our heads, so my eyes snap up, and my heart stops in my chest.
“Engine three, ambulance three. Two-story residential structure fire. Seventy-three-fifty-six Westchester Lane.”
“That’s my house!” I shove up from my chair so it bounces backwards and hits the floor, then I charge through the firehouse just two feet in front of my lieutenant.
“I didn’t die.” I sprint into the garage and snap up my turnouts. “I was supposed to be removed when I busted my leg. Then at the Oriane.” I slam my feet into the boots, and grab my jacket on the fly. “He was winning when I left town for half a damn year. But now I’m back.”
“Load up!” Nixon commands as our squad runs. “We’re doing this one right. Document every step.” He swings into the truck on one side, while I climb in on the other. “Suspected arson. Keep your eyes and wits about you, crew.”
Hannah
CALL OUT
Idon’t know which way is up anymore. I don’t know which way is down. I have no clue if I’m being a jerk for calling Axel out on the fire alarm situation, or if I’m expecting too much when, really, it was just a stupid prank.
But Idoknow that when we’re together, I’m happy.
When his arms are around me, I’m whole.
God knows, maybe I’m gaslighting myself and settling in for a lifetime of craziness.
But I didn’t catch a single wink of sleep last night because I was replaying, over and over and over again, everything that led up to last night’s fight.
I relived our conversations, and soaked in how it felt every time he told me he loved me.
I obsessed over the details, and though I was mad… fuming and hurt because of everything that has happened between us, I couldn’t shake the look in his eyes when hesworehe didn’t pull those alarms.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his. Every time I tossed in my bed and turned to find comfort, I heard his shouted assurances.
“I will not admit to something I didn’t do.”
“I’m not lying!”
Before he shattered my heart and left town without a backward glance, there wasn’t a single thing he could have told me that I wouldn’t have believed. I wouldn’t have needed proof, or convincing. I wouldn’t have turned it into an argument.
He could’ve told me the sky was purple and my parents loved me, and I would’ve taken him at his word.
