Matt stared at the newspaper. It had sat open on the table in front of him for at least ten minutes, but he was yet to turn a page. He looked up, catching Mason’s gaze, and his friend raised an eyebrow at him. Matt frowned, dropping his eyes back to the newspaper. He knew exactly what Mason was thinking. His mood was probably blindingly obvious to everyone in the entire room. That didn’t mean Matt was in the mood to talk about any of it, even with his best friend.

The day after the fair had been a quiet one. They’d stayed at home, doing normal, everyday stuff. He’d washed the truck, laughing when Brayden had joined in. He didn’t remember who’d thrown the sponge first, but they’d both ended up covered in bubbles and probably wetter than the truck by the time they were done. Lauren had smiled when she’d seen them both traipse into the house, tutting over Brayden’s leaving dripping-wet footprints throughout the entire house. Her eyes had moved over his body, pausing at where his wet shirt stuck to his skin, but she hadn’t attempted to touch him.

Matt frowned. She hadn’t attempted anything, actually. When she’d collapsed in his arms at the fair, a shaking mess of bliss from the orgasm he’d given her, he’d felt like the luckiest guy alive. After all, who got not just one, but two chances with their soul mate? He had no doubt now that’s what Lauren was. It wasn’t just about the sex, though when they came together, he swore he’d seen heaven—little cherubs swimming about his head in the afterglow and everything. No, it was something else. Something deeper that hadn’t gone away even through all their time apart. A connection between them. The problem was, that connection was telling Matt that something was seriously wrong.

When they’d slept in separate beds the night of the fair, he hadn’t questioned it. It had been a long day, and with so much changing in her life so fast, perhaps Lauren just needed time to catch her breath. As much as he wanted to hold her in his arms while she fell asleep, he had to respect that she wasn’t ready for that. But he couldn’t deny that it hurt a little when she hadn’t stopped to kiss him in the kitchen when he’d greeted her the next morning. He’d placed a hand on her arm and leaned in, but she’d turned away at the last moment, his lips grazing her cheek.

Had he done something to piss her off? He’d spent the first half of the day wracking his brains to work out what the hell he’d fucked up. She’d seemed fine at the fair, maybe a little distracted at times, but that was to be expected. When he’d asked then, she’d said everything was fine, and that answer hadn’t changed when he’d asked again that morning. But still, she hadn’t touched him. After an amazing dinner that she’d prepared while he and Brayden were buffing the truck, she’d simply said her goodnights and gone to bed with a book, claiming she was worn out. She’d smiled at him, but it hadn’t reached her eyes.

The words on the paper started swimming in front of Matt’s eyes, and he looked up again, blinking. Mason was still staring at him. When he saw Matt’s head up again, he opened his mouth, but before Mason could speak, dispatch took over. “Engine 81, Ambulance 32, house fire at 105 Queen Street. Residents trapped inside.”

Matt’s feet were moving before his brain had fully taken in the words, his body reacting to the call by instinct after all the years on the job. As he pulled on his gear and jumped in the truck, he was cursing inside his head. He would never cease to be amazed at how many homes didn’t have smoke detectors, or where they were entirely useless, broken or with dead batteries. So many fatalities could be avoided if more homes had properly fitted, working detectors. He glanced out the window, mentally urging Connor to drive faster. The death rate in house fires without working detectors was more than double those that had them. If there was one thing he wished he could do, it was get every home in Monroe fitted. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to help whoever was trapped inside this fire. He forced his head back in the game, readying himself for when they arrived.

When Connor pulled up outside the house, it was already engulfed in flames. Shit. Matt approached every fire with his full effort, no matter what, but it would be a fucking miracle if anyone was still alive inside that house. Mason yelled out orders and he grabbed the halligan, heading around to vent the back of the property.

* * *

Nearly an hour of heaving and sweaty effort later, Matt sat on the back of the fire truck, his head held up by one hand as he watched Shane and Charlie wheel out the gurney. They moved slowly, any reason to hurry extinguished with the last of the flames. Jeremy appeared on his left, pushing a bottle of water into Matt’s hand. He took it, gratefully, and downed half the bottle’s contents in one gulp, letting the cool water wash against his throat. After venting the back of the house, he’d joined his fellow firefighters and forced his way into the home. They’d searched every room, but there’d been no bloody point. All that had been left by then had been two bodies—a woman and a kid. He leaned back against the rig and closed his eyes, swiping a dirty hand over his face. He didn’t care. He’d already be covered in black marks from the smoke inside.

The sound of closing car doors had Matt opening his eyes again. Police. He looked away, downing the other half of the bottle. He wasn’t surprised they were already on scene. It was times like these he was glad it was Mason’s job to deal with all that crap. Just finding the woman had been enough to rattle Matt. Having to walk the cops through the scene would have taken his mind places he didn’t want to go to ever again.

The woman had been blonde, that much was still visible beneath the smoke and the ash. A dark stain had lain underneath her body. Accelerant, perhaps, but Matt would bet his next night’s poker winnings that it was blood. A blonde woman and a young boy with sandy hair. He’d been about ten years old. The same age as Brayden.

It was only the fact that both victims had likely died before the flames had engulfed the home that was saving Matt from completely losing his shit. Being trapped and burning alive was just about the most horrible death he could imagine. Whatever had happened, he hoped it had been quick. That’s all he could hope for them now.

He grimaced, crumpling the plastic bottle in his hand and throwing it as hard as he could against the ground. What a fucking waste. Being glad that someone had been dead so that they hadn’t had to suffer through dying in a fire. Perhaps this was a sign that he should listen to Mason . . . to finally get some help.

“Hey, Man, you good?” Jeremy was looking at him, his eyebrows mashed together in the center of his face. Matt followed his gaze down to the crumpled bottle lying on the ground.

He took in a deep breath and nodded. It was not the time or the place for any of that. He stood and scooped up the bottle. “It’s all good, Man. Just a hard one, you know.”

Jeremy returned the nod, his usually jovial nature quashed. “I get you.” He turned away from Matt, looking around at the smoldering house. “No one’s going to be good coming off a call like this.”

Matt huffed in a breath and moved over to start picking up the hoses and packing up the truck. The sooner they got everything squared away, the sooner they could leave and he could start pretending the call never happened, along with everything else he’d vowed to never think of again.