Chapter Seven

JENNY COULDN’T BREATHE or think. Her only focus was the exhilarating flutter in her chest. What was wrong with her? Was this a heart attack? Was the baby coming early? Since her sleep, everything felt strange, but this…

She took a step back from the man who was supposedly her husband.

Aside from the wedding photos her mom had showed her, there was no proof she and Tanner had shared their lives. “I talk friends.” Stupid. She hated when her words failed to come out right. She knew what she wanted to say, but the information got tangled. She shook her head, fighting the knot in her throat.

“Relax.” He took her hand, holding it softly, stroking the back as if she were a precious gift. “There’s no need for you to be stressed around me. Let’s just get to know each other. That’s all. Are you wanting to talk to your former friends? Is that what you were trying to say?”

She nodded.

“Perfect. Rose wants to throw you a welcome home party Saturday night. I told her it was too soon, but should I tell her to forge ahead?”

“Yes. But I’m also scared. What if they’re mad and I can’t remember? What if my words get jumbled and everyone laughs?”

“Babe… These are good people. They love you. They all want nothing more than for you to make a full recovery and be happy.”

“I’m still scared.”

He released her hand to draw her back into his arms. Because he felt solid and warm against her, and smelled of sun and sweat and a masculine something she couldn’t identify but knew she liked, she wrapped her arms around him, too. With her ear pressed to his chest, she heard his heart pounding as fast as hers.

What did that mean?

Did she make him as nervous as he made her?

They stood like that forever, holding each other in that enchanted glade, bathed in golden sun, lauded by a chorus of songbirds and wind whispering high in the pines.

“We should check on our pizza,” he said.

When he released her, she felt bereft. Weak-kneed and confused and sad, yet excited.

He offered his hand.

Bowing her head, fighting a secret smile, she accepted.

Nearing the trail’s end, a faint beep warred with nature’s pleasant hum.

“Shit…” Tanner dropped her hand, then took off running.

“What’s wrong?” she shouted after him.

“That noise is the smoke alarm!”

ACTING ON PURE adrenaline and instinct, Tanner ran into his home when he should have called 9-1-1. But before his injuries, before his entire life had gone up in flames, he’d been on the responding end of emergency calls.

Black smoke rolled from the oven, making it hard to find his way. His lungs ached from the effort of finding clean air when there was none. He felt along the counter for a dish towel, found one, then turned off the oven and opened the door, standing back when more smoke billowed into his face. He wrapped the towel around his hand, then withdrew the charred dinner remains. Charging out the back door, he ran across the deck, tossing the pan and still smoking contents into the yard.

After propping open the back door with a deck chair, he reentered the house to open windows. And then he was back on the deck, dropping to his knees, trembling, crying like a stupid-ass kid. What was wrong with him? He didn’t cry. Never cried. Only since his agonizing months spent in recovery, he now did. Constantly.

The fact disgusted him.

Why couldn’t he be stronger? Why did he have to come off as vulnerable and weak in front of the only woman he’d ever loved?

“It’s okay.” She knelt beside him. “It’s just a pizza. We’ll forage for a new dinner.”

“This isn’t about the pizza,” he snapped. “Look at me. I’m a wreck. That fire stole everything—you. Our home. My career I loved. I feel like an empty shell. I want to show you how much you mean to me, how desperately I love you and our baby, but how can I do that when I might not even have a job to return to? Last I checked, the fire department doesn’t need guys who are afraid of fire.”

“Stop kicking yourself when you’re already down. How can you say you’re afraid of fire when you just ran into a house that could have been burning? That was incredibly brave.”

“…Or stupid.”

“Maybe…” She slipped her arm around him, drawing his head to rest on her shoulder. “But let’s get one thing straight—you don’t have to impress me. Right now, my past is a puzzle I’m working to figure out. That’s my job. All I need you to be is patient. Kind. I don’t need a hero. Just a friend.”

Great. But he already had plenty of friends.

What he needed most was his wife…