Only Ever Us

by J. H. Croix

  Only Ever Us

  Light My Fire Series

  J.H. Croix

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2021 J.H. Croix

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Mae

  2. Rowan

  3. Mae

  4. Rowan

  5. Mae

  6. Rowan

  7. Rowan

  8. Rowan

  9. Mae

  10. Rowan

  11. Mae

  12. Rowan

  13. Rowan

  14. Mae

  15. Rowan

  16. Mae

  17. Rowan

  18. Mae

  19. Rowan

  20. Mae

  21. Rowan

  22. Mae

  23. Rowan

  24. Mae

  25. Rowan

  26. Mae

  27. Mae

  28. Rowan

  29. Mae

  30. Rowan

  31. Mae

  32. Rowan

  33. Mae

  34. Rowan

  35. Mae

  36. Rowan

  Epilogue

  Find My Books

  Resources

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To one of my favorite people in the universe, LM. You were grace & kindness personified with a healthy dose of hilarity thrown in. I’ll always remember you when I laugh.

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  Chapter One

  Mae

  I glanced around the small room, where the smoothly polite pastor’s assistant had deposited me. The only window offered a misty view. The drizzle falling outside earlier had ended, leaving an almost otherworldly glittering landscape with the sun breaking through the clouds. My throat was tight, and my chest ached. She was gone. And, somehow, I had to get through this.

  I took a breath, trying to ease the tightness in my chest, and blinked against the sting of tears in my eyes. My eyes dipped down to the notebook my grandmother had left behind. I finally lifted it and flipped it open, a laugh bubbling up only seconds later as I read the first sentence.

  Stop crying. I've lived a very good life, and you know it. Now, get your act together. Wipe those tears and do this right. I don't want a big funeral, for God's sake. My chest loosened. I'm not going to say anything ridiculous, and I promise I won’t haunt anyone. Who has time for that? I always loved you, and maybe you’re fed up with my opinions. Lord knows I have plenty. I’m still somewhere. Take care of yourself and go kick life’s butt.

  I lowered the notebook, letting it fall closed as another chuckle slipped out. I finally took the deepest breath I'd been able to take in months. Gram had lived a good life, and she'd lived it on her terms. I'd been meaning to come home anyway, so I supposed I was grateful she’d brought me here. Although I was hurting that it was her illness and then death that kicked my ass in gear.

  I still remembered our last conversation from a month and a half ago. She'd given me “man advice,” her words. The last thing I’d wanted.

  There was a soft knock on the door, and I quickly swiped at the tears that had already started to dry on my cheeks. “Yes?” I called.

  Margie—I thought that was her name—peered in. “He'll be with you in just a few minutes. You can have a seat if you’d like. We're finishing up another service.”

  I didn't know what to think about them having a service at the church while I waited to meet with the pastor to plan Gram’s funeral. You couldn't schedule death. It might be the only thing you couldn't schedule in life these days. Speaking of scheduling, my parents were running late and had texted to apologize after my father got a flat tire.

  After Margie disappeared, I circled the small room, restlessness making me jittery. A table by the door contained a brochure for coffins, along with another one for urns. Death was no barrier to brochures.

  Crossing the room, I idly counted the row of candles by the window. A loud humming sound seemed to be coming from the nearby closet. Antsy and bored, I traced my fingertips along the edges of the candleholders.

  Turning away, I started flipping through the brochure on urns. I felt like I was walking a tightrope. To one side lay heavy grief and tears. To the other side lay hysteria. At this moment, hysteria bubbled up, and I started laughing. Even urns were marketed with glossy ads.

  “Yay for capitalism,” I muttered to myself.

  I swiped at the next round of tears that slipped down my cheeks just as I heard a whooshing sound. I turned to discover flames flickering along the edges of the closet—the closet right between the door and the only window, the only two exits out of this room.

  Like an idiot, I raced directly toward the door in the tiny room. I reached for the doorknob but then snatched my hand away swiftly. It was burning hot to the touch. Flames flickered out of the closet, catching on the curtains by the window. I reached for the doorknob again and leaped back when there was a whooshing sound. The curtains and a sash hanging on a hook by the door had caught fire.

  Dear God. This room was filled with fabric things, all of them flammable. I looked around frantically as smoke filled the space. I heard voices in the hallway and dashed toward the window, only to leap back at the blast of heat from the flames.

  Fuck. I was supposed to be meeting the pastor for my grandmother's funeral, and now I was in my own pyre. Long moments later—I really had no idea how much time passed—I heard loud footsteps. When the door opened, I saw broad shoulders looming through the thick smoke before strong arms reached for me. I’d pinned myself in the corner, the only spot in this room that seemed safe from the flames as they overtook the entire wall.

  “I've got you,” a low voice murmured.

  Even though the room was on fire, I knew—knew—that voice.

  I coughed. What were the freaking chances that Rowan Cole would walk in here to rescue me? I wanted to tell him to put me down. But, well, fire.

  Of course, Rowan lifted me easily. Even though he was wearing heavy gear, I could feel his muscled arms and chest as he cradled me against him and carried me down the hallway.

  The hallway was filled with smoke, and I struggled to get a breath every step of the way. We burst out the back door, and I gulped in the fresh air, coughing again.

  “I've got you, Mae,” Rowan murmured again.

  I was annoyed that he even knew it was me.

  “Put me down,” I demanded between hacking coughs.

  “Nope.”

  If I didn't know better, I would’ve thought he might be amused by my predicament. He carried me straight over to an emergency vehicle parked near my car. I heard voices exclaiming around me.

  “I don't even know what happened!”

  “How did the
room catch on fire?”

  I couldn't even differentiate the voices. Rowan ignored everyone and lowered me carefully onto a stretcher beside the emergency vehicle. “She probably needs some oxygen,” he said to the woman waiting there.

  “I'm fine,” I insisted, coughing again to disprove my own point.

  I looked up into Rowan's face. Despite the fact I’d just been carried out of a burning room, my belly managed to do a little shimmy and a twist at the sight of him up close. Ugh. I was annoyed that he was my rescuer, yet apparently, my hormones thought he was all that.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated. I managed not to cough this time, though my throat hurt and my voice was raspy.

  “Surrender to the process, Mae. You need oxygen.” Rowan’s green eyes looked concerned as they coasted over me. He reached for the hand I’d used to open the door and turned it over. “She needs something on that palm, Dana.”

  I looked toward the woman, opening my mouth to protest. I finally got a look at her and recognized Dana Halloran from high school. I hadn't seen her since I'd moved back to town.

  Before I could get a word out, she held up an oxygen mask and placed it over my mouth. “You need oxygen. I'll look at your hand next.” Dana glanced at Rowan. “You need to help fight that fire,” she offered pointedly.

  I started to laugh and coughed instead. Rowan muttered something I couldn't hear and turned, striding away quickly. I took several deep breaths, actually relieved to breathe. Pure oxygen was pretty cool stuff, especially when you needed it. After a few moments, the tight, prickly feeling in my lungs eased, and I began to relax. Dana was still waiting beside me.

  She lowered the mask from my face. “Better?”

  I took a deep breath, savoring the cool air. “I think so.”

  Dana was pretty in a practical sort of way. Her curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had big brown eyes. “Now, let me look at that hand.” After she set down the oxygen mask, she turned my palm over. “That’s a minor burn. Let me put some cream on it.”

  The edges of my palm were an angry red, and it stung. “I'm sure it's fine,” I lied.

  “I promise this will make it feel better.” She opened up a small cloth bag on the stretcher. She smoothed some cream over the reddened areas, and it did feel better. “You know Rowan?” She looked back up at me.

  I twisted my lips to the side. “Yes, we went to college together.”

  “Really?” Her brows lifted in surprise.

  “I went to college in North Carolina.”

  “Ah, that’s right. He's from there, just like Remy. Wow. Small world.”

  The world was feeling more than a little too small these days with Rowan here in Alaska.

  “What's that look for?” Dana pressed as she set my hand down.

  “Thank you, that actually does feel better.”

  “That’s what it’s supposed to do,” she offered with a quick smile. “You happen to have some history with Rowan?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Nothing important. I'll have to thank him for rescuing me.” I wasn’t about to go into my history with Rowan with Dana or anyone else for that matter.

  She shrugged. “I don't think you need to thank him. It’s his job. Literally.”

  Chapter Two

  Rowan

  Once the fire was under control, I returned to check on Mae. While I was waiting, Carrie Dodge, an elderly woman whose cat I had rescued just last week, came walking over.

  “Mae!” she exclaimed. “What in the world happened?”

  “Hey, Aunt Carrie. The closet caught fire and then the curtains, I think.” Mae tried to take a deep breath and only coughed again. Dana slapped the oxygen mask back over her mouth.

  Carrie looked up at me. “That's my great-niece,” she announced.

  I looked over at Mae, and her eyes met mine from just above the oxygen mask on her face. She stayed silent. Even coughing, distressed, and just carted out of a fire, Mae was still beautiful. Her blond hair fell in a tangle around her shoulders, and her ginger eyes were snapping.

  “How are you, honey?” Carrie asked as she stepped closer to Mae and patted her on the shoulder.

  Mae blinked at her. Dana interjected, “Give her a minute. With a little more oxygen, she probably won't need to cough again.”

  Carrie turned her attention back to me. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “Rescuing Mae.”

  “It's my job.” When my eyes bounced over to Mae again, hers were narrowed. If eyes could shoot flames, I was certain hers would.

  I had tons of questions, but now wasn't the time for any of them. I turned my attention back to the fire. I’d tagged along with the town crew today just because I could. They were at half capacity since part of the crew was out training. As much as I wanted to stand by Mae’s side and wait to finally have a freaking conversation with her, now really wasn't the time.

  I walked toward the fire truck and stopped beside Susannah, another firefighter. “All taken care of,” I commented.

  She looked up at me, her lips quirking at the corners in a faint smile. “It was contained in that one room, thank goodness. This is the only funeral place in town. I'm just glad it wasn't the church portion of this structure.”

  The funeral home was attached to the back of the only church in this small town. I glanced over at it. The pastor was standing outside at the base of the stairs, talking to some of the parishioners who’d scurried out. “Do we know if the service was over?”

  “Yes. Maisie already called and got the scoop and then reported in.”

  “Do we know what caused the fire?”

  “Apparently, the water heater in that closet caught fire, then the curtains. We'll have more time to check on it later. Nobody got hurt, so it's not an emergency.”

  I glanced over toward Mae. Dana had removed the oxygen mask, and she and Mae were talking with Carrie. I really wanted to go over there, but I didn't.

  This was the second time I'd seen Mae in town. The first had been over two months ago, and then she disappeared again. I still couldn't get over the chances of finding her again.

  Dragging my eyes away from her, I left. An hour or so later, after I had showered and changed, Maisie Steele called my name as I was walking down the hallway at the station. Glancing over my shoulder, I stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

  “You have a visitor.” The door at the end of the hallway swung shut behind her.

  Curious as to who would stop by the station to see me, I walked up front into the reception area. It was situated between the fire station and the police station, where the single building served as a shared space. Maisie was the central dispatcher, and she was already on the phone at her command center, as she referred to it.

  She smiled over at me and gestured toward the chairs by the windows. I looked over to discover Mae sitting there.

  “Hey, Mae.” I walked over as my heart kicked into an irregular beat. I wouldn't admit it aloud, but simply seeing her again made me nervous.

  Her eyes whipped up from where she'd been looking at her phone. She immediately slipped it into her jacket pocket and stood. “Hi.”

  Her hair was damp and frozen on the ends. It was early November, and we'd already had snow here. I was accustomed to winter, but not this early, and definitely not this cold. Winters in the mountains of North Carolina weren't like those of Alaska. I’d been warned we weren't even to the coldest part yet. I didn't mind. I loved the mountains, and I loved the snow.

  “Thank you,” Mae said, her ginger eyes blinking up at me.

  “For what?”

  Her lips pressed in a line, those lips that were just as inviting as they'd once been years ago. They were pink and full and tipped up at the corners.

  “For rescuing me from the fire.” Her breath came out in a rush.

  “It's my job.”

  “I know, but still.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets.

  I didn’t know how it was possible, but she’d gotten more
beautiful, at least to me. Back when we’d been friends and then a little more in college, she’d been stunning to me. She was medium height with curvy hips. She wore jeans with cowboy boots and a fluffy down jacket. Her blond hair spilled around her shoulders in shades of honey, dark ash, and sunshine. She removed one hand from a pocket and brushed her long bangs to the side.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Uh, I work here.”

  Mae rolled her eyes. “No, I mean here in my hometown in Alaska.”

  “My friend, Remy, is one of the firefighters here. He told me about the job.”

  “What?”

  I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “He's a hotshot firefighter. They travel all over. He's married with a baby on the way here, so he’s definitely staying. He thought I'd like it here.”

  “What are the freaking chances of that?” Mae muttered.

  I chuckled. “I don't know.”

  “It’s annoying more than weird.”

  Mae and I met in college. She'd been on a scholarship in college in North Carolina. To this day, I thought about her more than I'd like to admit.

  “Did you know this was my hometown?” she asked.

  I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

  Her eyes coasted over my face curiously. “Yeah?”

  “Of course, I remembered, Mae. We were best friends before.”