Fighting the Flames (Firefighter Romance #1)(64)

“Um, Toby, I can't process with you in the house. You need to go open up your bar.” Her hands twisted in her lap beneath his scrutiny.

“But—”

“Put up a spell around the house or something, but I need you, your mom, and the crazy kid in the kitchen to go,” she said, not bothering to hold back her frustration. She shooed him. “I'll be fine.”

He frowned, and for a moment, Jacqueline waited for his protest, but maybe he sensed that she was at her breaking point. She just wasn’t ready for him to know why. With a slight nod, he started to leave but paused.

“We should talk about… that kiss later,” Toby said.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Disappointment flashed in his eyes. Before she could stop herself she said, “I want to do it again.”


The small smile he gave her warmed her heart as he collected the dog. Toby spoke in low tones in the kitchen, and a few seconds later, the back door opened and shut. Silence descended on the house.

“Alone at last.” She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed her mother.

“Hi, honey.” Her mom's voice bubbled over the phone line. “I just love this caller ID thingy on the smartphone. And to think that all my other phones were dumb phones. Now I always know who's calling.”

“That's great, Mom. Glad you're liking your new phone.” Jacqueline took a deep breath and stretched out on the sofa. “So, Mom, there's something I want to ask you.”

“Sure, honey.”

“Am I adopted?” Jacqueline could almost feel the happy energy seep from her mother as the conversation paused. She held the phone away from her ear certain the call hadn’t dropped. “Mom?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because there are some strange things going on, and I really need to know the truth. Am I adopted?” Jacqueline waited for her mother to speak.

“Yes.” Her heart clenched at the singular answer. It didn’t matter that she’d already assumed the truth.

“Do you know my birth parents? Are they Irish?”

“Jackie, how do you know that? Where is this coming from?” Sobs strained her mother's questions. Jacqueline released a tear, hating the fact that she was dragging her mother through this, but she deserved to know the truth.

“Mom, I can't explain everything to you right now, but I ran into someone claiming they know my birth family. I'm just trying to confirm if what they say is true.” Her legs shifted.

“Oh, Jackie, you know how much your dad and I love you, right? We just wanted a baby so badly, and we couldn't have one of our own.”

Jacqueline sighed at her mother’s response. She wasn’t accusing her. “I understand, Mom. Really I do. Was the family Irish?”

“Yes. Your biological mother's last name was O'Grady. I know that for sure because her story just about broke my heart.” Jacqueline's mom sniffled. “She was a young girl who'd given birth to you, but had been killed in a car accident. I guess she didn't have much family to help her out. The adoption agency gave me the impression that she was sort of the black sheep of the family and very much on her own.”

Jacqueline sucked in her breath, feeling dizzy even though she was lying down. So Gabe was right. She was part of the O'Grady line. Could she have wrongly accused him?

“Honey? You still there?”

“Yes, Mom,” she managed to get the words out. “I need to hang up, though. I'll talk to you later.”

Jacqueline ended the call, despite the fact that her mother was still protesting and trying to explain what had happened. She would deal with that later. Only one thing was important, and her mother’s guilt wasn’t it. Jacqueline didn’t blame her; she couldn’t have known about her being a banshee.

Jacqueline rushed upstairs and typed the name into her search engine. Skimming the articles, she found out that the O'Grady family was one of the most prominent families in Irish history. Rationally, she knew that it didn't change much—her adoptive parents would always be her family, and they loved her and had given her the best of everything. She couldn't find it in her heart to blame them for keeping the secret. Still, the confirmation of her heritage changed the game, and she could deny neither what she was nor how she felt. About anything or anyone.

Toby. She pictured him, and her body prickled in response. An area of her new life she wanted to explore in detail, even though it seemed his life was a mess of complications.

I'm the one who's going to have to kill you.

Jacqueline fidgeted as she returned to the living room, her mind reeling with his words. Plopping on the couch, she released a sigh. Life with Toby wouldn’t be easy if she had to wonder if he would kill her.

His words from the night before rested heavily on her mind until she thought of nothing else. Why would he think that? Surely, she could control her banshee side enough that no one, not even he could wield her as a weapon. Her fingers curled into a tight fist and she slammed it on her thigh.

She was a strong woman. No one bossed her around.

The doorbell rang. When she didn't get up to answer it, the visitor knocked on the door.

“Jackie? You in there?” Angela's voice drifted through the backdoor.

A smile drew her lips up and Jacqueline rushed through the kitchen; she opened it. Angela stood on the other side, her face beaming.