Page 44 of Colton’s Inferno

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.

Lucy had received enough condolences to last her a lifetime. She waved away his sympathies. “It was a long time ago. He had an overdose.”

“Still, death is hard.”

His words struck her in the chest. Aiden was good-looking. Smart. Funny. Brave. Hell, he was even kind. But there was more to him than just the dazzling perfection. Who had he lost?

“Death is hard,” she said with a long exhale. And then, “What were we talking about?”

“You were telling me about your family. Last night, you mentioned your dad and four of his brothers were the five steers. Does everyone still live in the area?”

Lucy shook her head. “Rusty and I are the only two left.”

“That’s a lot for the two of you to manage.”

As if she needed a reminder of how difficult it was to keep the ranch afloat. “The Harrises have been at Five Steers for generations. That’s one of the reasons I don’t want to leave. It’s more than land to me,” she said. “It’s a connection to my family. My past.”

“I respect that,” he said. “Family is important to me, too.” He smiled and his dimples showed. “Sounds like something else we have in common.”

Maybe that was what bothered her the most. Aiden was obviously handsome. He knew everyone in town, and what’s more, they all loved him. What did he see in a simple ranch girl like her? “Why did you ask me out?”

“I noticed you last night when you were talking to Ted. And because you’re beautiful, I wanted to meet you. Then—” he shook his head, giving her that dimple-smile “—we shook hands. There was something, I don’t know, a spark. I’ve never had that happen before, and that’s when I knew that I wanted to get to know you better.”

“Last night,” she sighed, suddenly tired, “feels like it happened in another lifetime.”

Before she could say anything else, Ruth arrived with plates balanced on her forearm. Setting down the food, she said, “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Looks delicious,” said Aiden.

He was right. His chicken and biscuits were covered in a creamy gravy that was filled with peas, beans, and carrots. Her sandwich was perfectly toasted and cheese oozed out of the side. The server set a dish filled with French fries next to Lucy as well.

She popped a fry into her mouth. The outside was crispy, and the inside was soft and warm. “Perfect,” she said, humming with satisfaction.

Ruth said, “Enjoy your meal.”

For several minutes, they ate without speaking. In the silence, her thoughts were chaotic. Why had she agreed to come out on a date? Just last night, she’d been trapped in a burning barn. What’s worse, she’d been locked in on purpose. And now, she was eating a sandwich and pretending like nothing had happened. But really, there was one thing that she wanted to know. “How do you know about panic attacks?”

“Well.” Aiden wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “One of my first years on the job, I was fighting a fire when a wall collapsed. It fell on my leg, and I was pinned in place for a few minutes. Although to be honest, it felt like days.”

“I can see how that would cause panic attacks.”

“There’s more,” he said, scooping up chicken and biscuits. “I was with another firefighter. Tony.” He shoved the bite into his mouth. Chewed and swallowed. “He was closer to the wall when it fell. It landed on top of him. He didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for his hand.

He folded his fingertips over hers. “For years, I wondered why I survived when he didn’t. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. My heart would be going a thousand beats a minute. Then, I’d remember what happened and guilt would grip my middle. It’d double me over with pain. There were other times when I was doing something else, like buying milk at the grocery store. A switch in my brain flipped and I was back in the fire. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.”

“Are you better now?” she asked.

“Most of the time, yeah,” he said. “Although it was a lot of work.”

“What did you do?”

“Therapy,” he said with a smile. “Lots and lots of therapy. My dad has a friend who’s a psychologist. I was on meds for a while. Both got me through.”

Right after Derek died, Lucy talked to a grief counselor. They encouraged her to get more help, but she declined. Where would she be now if she’d gotten into therapy? She ate a few more bites of sandwich. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressure. I just wanted you to know what worked for me.”