Page 9 of From the Embers

“Just making conversation.”

His laugh warms me through, making my heart skip a beat. He’s always had the ability to make me feel safe and seen when I’m in his presence. Like I can be myself. Even as a teenager, Denver was always kind, and it seems he hasn’t lost that streak. I thought I’d be more self-conscious—given a few things have changed for me since he saw me last. I’m much curvier now. I filled out in a lot of ways as I grew into a woman—my hips expanded, my thighs got thicker, and my breasts fuller. It’s taken time, and a few years of self-doubt that I’m never gonna be stick thin, but I’m happy with my body these days. I’m healthy and I feel good. “What else do you want to know?”

If you’re single dummy… But I smile as sweet as pie, thinking it’s probably a good thing he can’t read minds. “I know from the grapevine you’re still in the fire department.”

“Ah, yes.” He nods once. “You know me.” An inevitable shrug follows like it’s no big deal.

“You still love it?” I ask.

“Rescue? Yeah, I do. I’ve had over sixty complex rescues in my career. Our captain, Grayson Cole, he’s a hard ass but fair. My lieutenant, JJ, is a good guy, and keeps us all in line. I live for it. Though, Bodhi wants a word with Cap with how overworked I am.”

My eyebrows knit together. “Bodhi?”

“My cat.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. Geez, why am I giggling like a damn schoolgirl? “You’re a cat dad?”

“Sheesh, you have been away too long.”

“It seems so. How did you come to be Bodhi’s dad?”

His lips twitch with a smile. “I’ve rescued one too many up trees and on roofs in my time to not love the little creatures,” he admits. “Bodhi is my favorite rescue.”

“Wow, is that how you found him?”

“Yup, sure is. No one claimed him after I grabbed him from a high rise ledge. He was stuck up there for days before anyone reported it. Poor thing could’ve fallen to his death at any time.”

“Wow. You two must be kindred spirits, living on the edge like you do.”

His chuckle is quiet and almost thoughtful. “Something like that. He’s king of the castle now, believe me.”

“I kinda got that impression.”

“Do you have any pets?” he asks.

My eyes flick up to his. “No. Not since, um, Sammy.” I stammer. My memories of that little dog still choke me up. “But I’d love to have a furry friend one day.”

If it’s not my imagination, I see his throat bob as he swallows. I guess mentioning Sammy brings it all back about the past. The memories always seem to hang between us.

“He was a good dog,” Denver says quietly, his voice even deeper, almost inaudible.

“He was the best, and he lived a good life. Thanks to you,” I tack on. It’s not an after thought by any means—we were all very grateful for Denver’s bravery. But the memories were too difficult for all of us, and rebuilding was going to be just too much for my folks. So we ended up moving across the other side of the city to the suburbs. Everything took its toll with Carrie’s injuries, and things just weren’t the same.

It makes me sad to think about. It’s not something you just get over. Years of therapy has softened the edges for me, but the scars remain in places, especially for my sister. And it makes me sad that for a long time she suffered. Maybe that’s why I lived away so long: I just didn’t want to face the fact that things would never quite be the same. But time has been a good thing because she is doing well now. She works as a teacher, and I know she loves her job. The kids she teaches love her to pieces.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he says softly.

I don’t have to be looking at him to know it’s true. But we’re nearing my apartment block.

“Where do you live?”

“Not far from Printers Row,” he says. “That’s where the fire station is.”

I know it well. The South Loop is a lively hub with plenty of bars, cafes, and restaurants.

“I’ve passed it before,” I murmur. When we lock gazes again, I see the sincerity in his eyes. They burn an electric green that hasn’t softened over time. If anything, they’ve become more vivid but also like he’s seen too much.

I try not to take in the rest of him, but that’s hard. He’s huge. His big arms and strong body cling to his henley underneath his jacket. And he smells like a fucking spicy wet dream. It’s easy to imagine how unsaintly that damn body is under those clothes and I wet my lips without realizing I’m doing it. But also, it’s more than that. He’s doing exactly what he set out to do and I admire him for that.