* *
A fire. No. No. No.
Ashley had never so frantically hailed a cab in all her life. She yanked a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and flattened it against the Plexiglas between her and the taxi driver. “This is your tip if you get me home, now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The driver looked over his shoulder, punched the accelerator, dodged another taxi and ran a red light.
She eased back in her seat and wrapped her arms around her waist, rocking back and forth. Deep breaths seemed impossible. Every drag she took of oxygen only teased her lungs before being quickly expelled. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”
She stared out the cab window, but she didn’t see the city. Instead, visions of the fire that took her family home when she was ten years old overtook her mind. She couldn’t push them out no matter how hard she tried. She saw it all, she felt it all—standing in the ditch next to Rural Route 4, the dusty road that ran past her family’s farm. Faded, splintered clapboards that her great-grandfather had hammered into place by hand went up like scrap wood in a bonfire. Licks of fire swallowed the living room curtains her mother had sewn from bedsheets. It was as if they’d been nothing, made of tissue. Every last one of their belongings—furniture, their clothes, her most treasured books, the diary she’d been keeping for only a few weeks, the teddy bear she’d had since she was a baby—all of it had been taken that night. For good.
The loss had been enormous and in many ways, her family hadn’t truly begun to heal from it until Ashley landed the matchmaker show and started making real money. Then she’d been able to lift her family out of debt, buy her parents a house, give her brothers a little something extra. The fire had led to more than a decade of struggle that the entire family was ill-prepared for, especially Ashley. She’d had to grow up overnight. The thing was—before the fire, she hadn’t given much thought to being poor.
The farm had been such a happy place—thriving crops in the fields, a garden chock-full of yellow wax beans and tomatoes, chickens chattering in the yard next to the henhouse, barn cats sleeping in the sun on the front porch. The house was paid for. Her great-grandfather had built it himself. Before the fire, it had always felt as though they had plenty, or at least enough. After the fire, the henhouse was the only thing left standing, and there was no insurance, no money for a motel. They’d depended on the kindness of neighbors to help them through it.
And once again, things were tumbling down. By the time Ashley got up to her apartment, the scene was strange—both quiet and busy. Three or four firefighters milled in and out of the door. The heavy smell of smoke became stronger with her every step forward, until it began to sting her nose and stopped her dead in her tracks. If she stayed out here in the hall, it didn’t have to be real. She didn’t have to face what was waiting for her on the other side of her door.
Marcus came out of his apartment. “You’re here.” His voice was serious, sounding as if it was any other day.
Ashley shook her head, turning and looking up into the complexity of his eyes. “So you smelled smoke? That’s how you found it?” With every passing word, her voice grew weaker.
Marcus pulled her into a hug, and she had to work to keep from collapsing in his arms. He made her feel protected, and it was so tempting to give into that, to take it willingly. How had he ended up as her support system? How had this man who could be so insufferable ended up being her saving grace? Even when he’d tried everything he could to push her away.
She didn’t have a single safety net in her life. She spent her days walking a tightrope, trying to keep everything going, trying to keep everyone else secure. It was nice to know that someone, somewhere, could make her feel that way. She’d never expected it would be Marcus, nor did she have any idea how he felt about the role.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t see a way out of this. She’d get back on schedule with her apartment somehow. It would be everything she’d hoped for. But she’d have to retrace parts of her gut-wrenching past to get through it. No wonder she felt as if someone was turning a knife in her stomach.
“Joanna smelled the smoke. She was over for dinner. I had her take Lila. Obviously I wanted her out of harm’s way.”
Tears stung Ashley’s eyes. Harm’s way. Her apartment was the source of that harm. “You could’ve been hurt. Little Lila could’ve been hurt. Marcus, I’m so sorry. Thank God you were here and acted so quickly. Thank you for doing what you did. I’m never going to be able to thank you.”
He patted her back and pulled her in for another hug, reminding her she was safe. “The fire marshal should be out any moment now. I don’t think you’re allowed inside yet. They’ve cut the electricity, anyway. They seem certain the fire was electrical.”
A man wearing a firefighter’s uniform adorned with a very important-looking patch came through her apartment door. “I’d know you anywhere, Ms. George. I’m Lieutenant Williams. Very nice to meet you. My wife is a huge fan.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” It wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined she would first say to this man. She had dozens of questions, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask even one. She stood as still as a statue, bracing for whatever came next.
“I’ll have to get an autograph from you at some point, but in the meantime, let’s talk about your fire.”
Or not. We could not talk about it and just pretend it didn’t happen.
“The point of origin was one of the kitchen outlets. My guess is faulty wiring.” Lieutenant Williams stepped closer and showed her a photo on his phone. Marcus stood behind her, looking over her shoulder, appraising things with his watchful eye.
One glimpse of the scene and she clamped her eyes shut—her gourmet retreat with the eight-burner stove and custom cabinets now resembled the remnants of a campfire. The gorgeous glass backsplash was marked with a gaping black hole. “The electrician was just working on the kitchen the other day,” she mumbled, her stomach sinking.
“Yes, well, we’re going to need to speak to your contractor about that. That’s why we cut the electricity to the apartment. We don’t want to risk another fire. I’ll be back in the morning to begin the inspection of your unit. Shouldn’t take more than a few days. Then you can get a team in here to clean up. In the meantime, I can’t allow you to occupy the space. You can gather some of your items as long as a fire department member is here. Do you have a friend you can stay with?”
Grace was her closest friend, but she lived with her sister and a handful of cats in a tiny apartment. It would never work. They’d all be on top of each other. “I’ll find a hotel room.”
Marcus cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t shocked he hadn’t offered, but she wished he had. At least it would’ve made it easier to deal with the fire department. Maybe it was for the best that they stay away from each other. She didn’t need more confused feelings heaped on top of the ones she had right now.
“Also, Ms. George,” Lieutenant Williams said, “you should know that your sprinkler system failed, and we suspect it was compromised. If your contractor’s workers bypassed the system, I have no choice but to file a report with the city. There will be an investigation. They could lose their license. It’s a very serious safety violation.”
“I don’t understand, though. They had a waiting list. Their other work is beautiful.”
Lieutenant Williams
