Fighting the Flames (Firefighter Romance #1)(3)

Yes, it appeared like she was. Jessie’s hand on the handle of her car was evidence. She’s running… again.

Perhaps Derrick was right. He told her she was the problem, but she wanted to place all the blame on him. Now, the pattern of her insecurity was right in front of her. There was no one to blame but herself. Certainly, this wasn’t Ryan’s fault, just Jessie’s fear of being burned one more time.

For some odd reason, she used the key to unlock the car door instead of clicking the little button on the key fob. Why, she had no idea… it seemed everything she was doing this morning was ass-backwards. She knew it was a sign to stop doing things the hard way, but she ignored it and sank into the seat of her car. She held her breath as she started the engine, not wanting to wake Ryan. There was no need to worry… the soft purr of the hybrid motor was quieter than the harsh beating of her heart

Her trembling hand reached for the gear shift and pulled it into ‘drive’. Her whole body was shivering, as if it was the dead of winter when, in reality, fall and its dying transition hasn’t even arrived. But it would. Fall would be here soon and the new life around her would wither and die. It was part of life, the mourning of what was.

She needed to get going before she lost her nerve. It would be so easy to sneak back into the house and lay down on the bed, all snuggled up and ready for another bout of morning sex. She already missed Ryan’s warmth, the way he reached for her in his sleep, the way her head felt as if it were designed to fit on top of his muscular bicep.

All that was an illusion, she told herself again. Just part of the fantasy summer she would remember fondly. And it was better this way… better to have beautiful memories of the way it was. Not the way it would become.

No memories of him sick and throwing up all night. No memories of him on “his” side of the bed because his arm fell asleep when she snuggles next to him. No memories of fights. No memories of feeling taken advantage of. Nothing bad.

No… this was better. Her leaving blessed them both with only memories of a perfect summer. A never-ending summer abruptly cut short by her selfish indecision and an obligation to an old flame.

She pushed the accelerator down, ignoring that last thought, but it triggered the hurt she still felt from Derrick’s betrayal.

They’d been watching a movie just three months ago, Jessie snuggled into his side. She’d grown annoyed by his constant texting, the incessant buzzing of his phone. He said it was work, a problem he was trying to solve, but she knew he was lying.

Later, after he’d fallen asleep, she picked up his cell and opened it. She did the one thing she swore she’d never do; she slid her thumb across the numbers to enter his password. ‘Incorrect password’ was the response. She tried another, then another, until the system finally locked. She remembered laying the phone down before she was tempted to throw it against the wall.

He’d changed his password and Jessie knew what that meant. Cheating 101—change passwords frequently. He’d also been leaving his phone face down, another sign of secrecy. All the changes he’d been making to his appearance began to make more sense.

Jessie recalled how stunned she’d been. She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t have proof, but she knew it was true… Derrick was cheating on her, but with who? Faces of his co-workers floated through her mind. Could it be one of them? Or perhaps the overly friendly teller at the bank? Hell, it could be anyone, really.


“How could he do this?” Her mind screamed. First her dad and now this?

More pain pierced her heart as she remembered finding the hidden compartment in her father’s desk. She’d been helping her mom clear out his things after he died so unexpectedly. Jessie remembered hitting her knuckles against the back of a drawer and thinking how strange for it to end so soon. Then she noticed the difference in the wood and began to investigate. Pulling out the entire drawer, she realized there was a compartment at the back, with a little lock, but no key she could find. She dug through the rest of the desk, trying every key she could find and was about to give up when it occurred to her to turn the drawer over. There, taped to the bottom as a single gold key. She pulled it off and tried to insert it, her hands shaking so badly she had to try twice.

It opened and what Jessie found inside broke her heart. There were dozens of letters, postcards and pictures of her dad with a woman who was not her mother. The letters dated back over twenty years, with the last one dated just two months before her father died.

“This is my last letter to you,” it said. “I’m dying, my love, with less than a month left the doctors say. Oh, how I wish I could spend it with you, how I could fade away into endless darkness while lying in your arms. Maybe, in our next lifetime, we can be together. Please take care of yourself, kiss your girls, and know I’ll be watching and longing for you from the stars.” It was signed, “I love you desperately, Betty.”

After reading the letter, she’d unfolded a newspaper clipping. It was an obituary for Betty McIntosh, aged 62. She lived in a neighboring county, less than fifteen minutes away. She had died on July 20 the previous year, exactly three weeks before Jessie’s dad passed. Thinking back, she remembered her dad taking a weekend trip around that time, which was unusual. His trips were normally taken during the week.

That stopped her. His trips weren’t for business as he had said. He lied to her mom; to her. He was with this other woman. Jessie checked the calendar; Betty had died on a Saturday. Did she, indeed, fade into her endless darkness in the arms of Jessie’s father?