by Melody Anne
He didn’t turn to look at her, but she noticed his shoulders tensed. Declan hadn’t been lying to her—at least about that. There’d been something going on that had made him leave. She desperately wanted to know what that was.
“I had my reasons,” he told her, his voice not giving away what he was thinking or feeling.
“Didn’t you think I had the right to know?” she asked, hating that she needed to say those words.
“Yes, you did,” he answered. But he didn’t elaborate.
“So why not just tell me?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. But he didn’t give her more than that. She let out a frustrated sigh as she turned and studied him. He was staring straight ahead, but she had no doubt he was aware of her gaze.
He’d always taken her breath away with his beauty. Men certainly didn’t want to be described as beautiful, but he was. He had such a strong profile—with his solid jaw, straight nose, and full lips. He’d always been quick to smile, and she adored the lines next to his eyes that attested to many years of laughter. Had he been happy without her? She’d been happy . . . eventually. It had taken her a while to adjust, but she hadn’t let her sorrow from a lost love define her entire life.
It was just that having him back around, and having him pursue her, had sent her world into a tailspin. Then going to him . . . and losing her dad on the same night had made her crash so hard she hadn’t been able to pick herself up off the ground quite yet.
She’d always been attracted to Owen. But their relationship had been about so much more than that. She’d loved him with every fiber of her being. She feared she was still in love with him.
“Why did you come back?” she asked. He didn’t seem willing to answer her questions, but she had so many of them.
“I finally realized I shouldn’t have left the way I did, or for as long as I did,” he told her. This time he turned and briefly glanced at her. The look was so intense she felt scorched from the inside out. She had to break the look. She stared out her window instead. “I shouldn’t have left you,” he added.
“You did leave, and you’re unwilling to tell me why. So I’d much rather you didn’t make comments like that unless you’re willing to explain yourself.”
He was quiet for a moment, then he sighed. “We’ll talk about it all eventually.”
“When it’s convenient for you?” she asked.
“Is a conversation like this one ever convenient?” he countered.
“It’s necessary,” she told him. “We live in a small town, and there are definitely hard feelings. It’s not like we can avoid each other, so maybe if you give me closure, I won’t hate you so much.”
He looked at her with such sorrow she wondered if he was acting or if he really did have feelings for her, if he truly did care that he’d hurt her.
“Do you remember that time we went to the Seattle docks?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject.
She was thrown off-kilter but couldn’t help the smile that flowed across her lips at the memory. She closed her eyes and could practically smell the sea air, feel the heat of the sun beating down on her bare shoulders.
“I remember it all,” she admitted. What would be the point of lying?
“What did you say to me?” he asked.
She almost laughed. “I didn’t want to date you for the longest time because of who you were,” she said instead of answering.
“And . . . ,” he said, the word drawn out.
“It didn’t take me long to see that you didn’t act like a millionaire or billionaire or whatever the heck your family is,” she said with a shrug. “You like old trucks and worn Levi’s. You’d rather swim at a fishing hole than sail at a yacht club.”
He laughed. “My fire department in New York didn’t have a clue where I came from or what was in my bank account,” he told her with fondness.
“That was something you’d always wanted,” she said. It was something she’d always loved about him.
“We were down at those docks, and you were making fun of me,” he reminded her.
“I know,” she said. “I asked you when you were getting one of the big boats to take me sailing around the world.” She stopped and gulped. “You said we could go pick one out right then and there if it made me happy.” She had to fight tears. “I knew you were just kidding, but after you left, I had many dreams of us doing just that, walking onto one of those big boats and sailing off into the sunset.”
“Eden . . . ,” he began before his voice trailed off.
“It’s fine, Owen. It took me some time, but I got over you. I got over it all,” she lied. “And I didn’t want you for your money. Just because you can afford any one of those ridiculously priced yachts doesn’t mean you should buy one.”
“I had the same dream,” he admitted. “I pictured us on one particular boat, you topless in the middle of the sea, me providing for us. It was just the two of us without a care in the world.”
She wanted to hate him for putting this image in her mind, for reminding her of the past, reminding her of what she could have had. But she was too sad at that moment to hate anyone.
“Well, we were young and stupid,” she said with a laugh that had zero humor in it.
“It’s never too late to live our dreams,” he told her with such intensity she refused to look at him, afraid of what she would see in his eyes. “I will take you straight down there now, and we can sail off into the sunset.”
“And run away from all our problems?” she questioned. “Run away from what’s happening here now?”
“I’m not trying to run anymore. I just want you to know the door’s never shut when it comes to you and me. Your dreams matter to me, and I want to hand you the world.”
It was taking all she had not to reach out to him and accept what he was offering. “I have new dreams now . . . and they don’t include you.” Her voice trailed away. The last words were a lie.
“Have either of us changed that much from the teenagers we were?” he asked.
“Yes, without a doubt,” she said without hesitation.
“In some ways,” he told her. “But in many others, we’re the same people we were then. I’ll prove it to you.” There was such assurance in his tone that she didn’t know how to fight it.
She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to break this spell that seemed to have been woven over the two of them. But then his radio crackled. He automatically reached for it, turning it up.
“There’s a fire at . . .” Dispatch listed the address. Both she and Owen went silent as they continued driving. Eden was in shock, all thoughts of the past instantly evaporating.
“That’s your place,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Of course he knew where she lived.
“Yes,” she answered anyway. “It appears my place is on fire.” The gut-wrenching fear began spreading through her. She lived nowhere near the deadly blaze destroying the forest around them. Why was her place on fire?
Owen sped up as he drove in the direction of her house. They were about to find out what was going on. One thing was for sure, though: Eden didn’t believe in coincidence. She scooted a bit farther away from Owen.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, it was just that . . . it was just that none of this made any sense. Nothing seemed to make sense. She was growing more and more lost, and as much as she wanted to reach out to the man beside her, take the comfort she knew he’d be willing to give, she couldn’t.
She was alone in this—utterly alone. Someone was setting fires, and it very well could be someone she’d known all her life—someone who didn’t care who got in the way.
Chapter Ten
Owen’s throat tightened as he pressed down on his accelerator. He could feel the tension radiating off Eden as they neared her home. Of course they could smell smoke in the air, but the entire area had smelled that way for two weeks straight with the forest fire uncontained and too close to home. How had her house gone up in flames?
Though it panged his heart, he knew she had to be thinking he had something to do with this. If she searched within herself, she’d know he could never start a fire, never destroy these lands or put people’s lives in jeopardy. But she was hurt and angry. She had a right to be. What he’d done to her was unacceptable. Yes, he’d had his reasons, and he knew he’d have to share them with her. He just wasn’t ready yet. Maybe it was fear that he’d lose her forever.
Hope was something Owen held on to. He had hope that things would work out, hope that his future wasn’t destroyed, hope that he’d spend the rest of his life with the only woman he’d ever loved. He’d been young and foolish when he’d set out to see the world . . . when he’d helped a friend. She had to see they were different people now, that they could rise above their pasts.
They neared her house, and he was going slightly insane from her intoxicating scent. It had been six long months since he’d held her. He’d been so close to stripping off their clothes in that hospital room. She wouldn’t have forgiven him if they’d been caught with their pants down.
But when she was near him, he couldn’t seem to think of anything other than touching her, holding her, sinking deep within her silken folds. Yes, he’d been with other women in his time away from Edmonds, but none had compared to Eden; none had held his attention longer than the short time they’d given each other mutual pleasure.
But that had ended for him as he’d realized a quick release wasn’t what he was searching for. No, what he’d always wanted had been his all along, and he’d risked it all for something foolish.
Owen didn’t know if he could make everything right, but his hope had been renewed when she’d shown up on his doorstep six months ago, and the two of them had exploded together.
Then her father had died.
And he knew she blamed him for that, among his many sins. She also blamed herself. Though it had been a heart attack, something unforeseen and freak, she lived with the guilt of ignoring her father’s final calls because she’d been with him. Owen wasn’t sure if that was something the two of them could get over. That’s where hope came back into the picture. She had to forgive herself and him. When she realized neither of them was at fault, the healing process could begin.
Grief was an unpredictable thing, though. It snuck up on a person and held them tightly in its grasp until they either escaped or gave in to the tentacles tightening around them. Eden was too strong to be pulled under. She also wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t allow her to fade. Even if freeing her from him was what it took, he’d do anything to make it better for her.
They turned a bend in the road, and Owen’s gut clenched more. Though they still had about a mile to go, he could see a black plume of smoke rising in the air, see flashes of orange lighting up the night sky. He knew what that meant—everything would be gone.
He heard Eden’s soft gasp as she gazed ahead. She’d come to the same conclusion he had. This wasn’t a small fire; it was catastrophic. The need to don his uniform and try to salvage what he could was so great his legs were twitching. But he was on a temporary suspension. That made this even worse.
He wanted to offer her comfort, but he knew the best thing for her at this moment was for him to be quiet. She was trying to process what they were about to see, trying to prepare herself. He’d worked many fires where families had lost everything they owned. The impact was devastating.
Though the fire department considered it a success when there was no loss of life, there were some losses that were almost too hard to take. Irreplaceable family heirlooms, photo albums, baby books, wedding dresses, antique furniture. The flames didn’t care about a person’s sentiment. The fire was hungry, and it fed on everything in its path.
They turned the last corner, and Eden let out a sad cry. Her house was completely engulfed; three fire engines were parked in front of it, their hoses stretched out as commands were shouted.
It was too late. All they could do at this point was prevent the fire from spreading. She had just lost everything.
The three men sat on the hill and looked down, laughing as they watched their handiwork. One turned to his buddy and passed a pipe he was holding. His buddy took it and inhaled, holding his breath before letting out a plume of smoke.
“The boss will be really happy about this,” he said.
“There’s not a chance they’ll figure it out,” the other replied.
“It’s fun to watch,” the third guy said as he grabbed the pipe.
“That bitch is messing where she doesn’t belong. Maybe now she’ll mind her own business,” the first one said as he laughed.
“Quiet. We don’t want them to hear,” the second guy whispered.
“Hell, they can’t hear anything over the roar of the fire,” the third one said. “Laugh away.”
They sat there as the flames grew. The boss was nowhere near finished. And they’d do whatever he wanted . . . and enjoy every minute of it.
There was work to be done, and they were more than ready. That made the men smile even more. Destruction could be a beautiful thing . . .
Chapter Eleven
Eden stepped from Owen’s truck, not waiting for him to come around and open her door. She looked on helplessly as firefighters tried their best to beat the flames taking down her house. They were losing the battle. The place was burning fast and hot, and she’d be surprised if there was anything left by the time they put it out.
She stood there trying to figure out what she was feeling. Was it fear? She didn’t think so. Sorrow? Her eyes were dry. Anger? Maybe. She honestly didn’t understand what it was she felt. She knew for sure she was in shock. Everything she’d collected her entire life had been within those walls. All of her precious gifts from her father, her photos, her small collection of trinkets that had meant so much to her. And now it was gone. In a matter of minutes, it was all gone.
Owen was one of the suspects in the wilderness fire, but there was no part of her that thought him guilty of setting her house on fire. He wasn’t capable of such cruelty. But what did this mean, then? It was too much of a coincidence that she’d been assigned to investigate what was going on in this town, and now her place was being burned to the ground. The flames were too hot and too out of control for this to be an accident.
The firefighters didn’t pay the least bit of attention to her as they did their job. She heard laughter and turned her head, seeing one of the younger firemen holding tightly to the powerful blast of water being pushed through his large yellow hose.
“Stop horsing around, Chase,” a man shouted.
“Just enjoying my work, boss,” Chase called back, his attention never diverting from what he was doing.
She couldn’t fault the kid. A lot of children wanted to be firefighters, police officers, or members of the military. They dreamed of saving the world. Not everyone kept those dreams as they grew up, but the elite did, and she knew the ones who’d make it and the ones who wouldn’t. Chase would make it. He obviously loved what he did. He also had no idea the owner of the house was standing right there, or he would’ve toned it down.
She knew it wasn’t that he relished seeing something destroyed. He was simply enjoying the thrill of being a part of stopping that destruction—of being the hero called in to save the day.
His chief obviously knew that as well, because he turned and spoke to another of the guys who was putting on heavy equipment. Once they got the blaze under control, if the house was still standing, they’d go inside, see if anything was salvageable.
There’d be nothing left. She could already see that.
Eden felt Owen, rather than saw him, when he walked up beside her. She tensed, afraid if he touched her she’d completely fall apart. She couldn’t afford that. Too much had happened in too short a time frame, and if she didn’t hold tightly to her raw emotions, the floodgates would open, and the flow might be too powerful for her to close the doors again.
It was almost as if Owen could read h
er thoughts, because he stood close but didn’t say a word. She felt the warmth of his body, but he kept a few inches of space between them. It was as if he was telling her it was in her hands, that he was there for her if she needed him, but he’d stay away if she didn’t want him. Just knowing this was almost her undoing.
Someone turned and saw them, and she watched as the man’s lips turned up. “Owen,” he called out, making several other heads turn their way, “why aren’t you suited up?”
“I’m off duty,” Owen replied. Eden was glad he didn’t add it wasn’t of his own free will, or that Eden herself had been the one to deliver that news to him. She was afraid they’d push her into the fire instead of try to contain it.
“When has that ever stopped you?” the man called out with a laugh.
“Do we have cause yet?” Owen asked, obviously trying to distract the guy. That’s when the other man noticed Eden. She recognized him. He’d only been in town a year, but she’d run into him a few times at the bakery. Sean Adams was his name.
“Sorry, Eden,” he said, his grin fading. He looked around at the other men and winced. They hated the destruction fire brought, but they sure loved putting one out. “We didn’t know you were here,” he offered with a helpless shrug.
“It’s okay, Sean. There’s nothing you can do now but douse it,” she said, hating how choked her voice sounded.
“It’s not that we like people losing their houses. The guys just need to let off some steam,” Sean told her when Chase laughed again as he shifted his hose, dousing another part of her burning place.
“I understand,” Eden told him.
Still, Sean moved away, going over to Chase. The kid’s smile instantly faded as he looked over in Eden’s direction. She was sure her face was almost eerie in the light of the fire. He bowed his head and went back to work. It made her feel bad that he’d gotten in trouble.
Soon, everyone knew she was there, and their laughter stopped. She wanted to tell them it was okay, that it was just a house. But she couldn’t manage to say the words. It might just be a house, but there were things in it that were irreplaceable. She promised herself she could fall apart later. Right now wasn’t the time or place.
