HEART ON FIRE

 

CHAPTER ONE

OLIVER

 

I was just settling in for my shift when the call came in. A warehouse fire. Pretty routine stuff. Honestly, I assumed it was just a bunch of kids interested in starting their career in arson and destroying private property. But my thinking changed immediately when a follow-up call came in – there was someone inside the burning structure.

My heart thundered in my chest. I always got a rush of adrenaline and a racing pulse whenever a call came in. But, that rush of adrenaline and pounding of my heart always intensified when someone's life was in danger. My body was awash in sensations more powerful than any drug man could ever concoct as I flew into motion.

That's why I did what I did. To save lives. And I did everything in my power to do just that. I wasn't always successful though. The names and faces of the people I'd lost over the years were etched into my brain forever. Including her face. But, I believed in what I did and would never stop trying to save everybody I could.

With a flurry of action in the house all around me, I pushed all thoughts of Lauren out of my head as I climbed into the truck. Sirens blaring and lights flashing, we raced out of the firehouse and blazed our way through the streets of Chicago.

The smoke was thick in the air, surrounding us before we even parked the truck. Jumping out of the truck, I noticed that the air was choked with the smell of gasoline. Looking at the structure, I saw that the flames engulfing it were larger than a dumpster fire. The smell of the accelerant and the aggressiveness of the fire told me this wasn't simply a case of stupid kids playing with matches and trash cans.

The smells around me disappeared once I put on my mask. All I could smell now was plastic as the protective mask covered my face and I felt the cool rush of oxygen. Rushing from the truck toward the structure, I heard a cracking and popping all around us. It sounded like gunshots but it was just the sound of light bulbs exploding. That sound was accompanied by the sound of wood cracking and the glass in windows shattering as the heat inside the building intensified.

The smoke pouring out of the warehouse made it almost impossible to see as we entered the building. The whoosh of the flames and cracking, groaning noises around us grew louder and more ominous. I looked up at the ceiling and grimaced when I saw the tendrils of flame crawling along. I couldn't see much else, but I prayed the roof didn't collapse in on us. Not until we'd finished the job.

The first step we needed to take – and take quickly – was finding the person inside. Witnesses reported they heard screaming, but I strained my ears and couldn't hear anything. There was a good chance the person who'd been heard screaming was no longer conscious. Which meant we had seconds instead of minutes to find them and get them outside and into fresh air.

Or, the witness could have been mistaken and there was nobody in the building. It was possible we were risking our lives on a wild goose chase. It's been known to happen. More times than I could count, actually. But, better to err on the side of caution. I can't even imagine how I'd react if we pulled out, only to find out later there was somebody in there and they'd died because we didn't take the time to look.

The heat inside the structure was nearly unbearable, reminding me of the last warehouse fire I'd been on. The one that left me with burns all over my body because I just wouldn't quit trying to find survivors, even as my air was fast running out. If it wasn't for Jimmy, I'd very likely be dead too. Alongside her. The woman I'd gone in there to save.

I shook my head and pushed away the memories. Not this time, I told myself. No, this time, I would find the person in here and save them. I wasn't about to let another one die on me. No, this person, whoever they were, would be saved.

Moving through hallways choked with thick, black, cloying smoke in the darkness, and not knowing anything about the building, I felt like I was trapped in a maze. A maze I wasn't sure I'd find the end of.

I pushed the negative thoughts out of my head. They weren't going to help. And I needed focus. I could do this. I had to do this. My heart pounded harder and my senses slowed down. It was like moving in slow motion.

The sound of a loud snap up ahead made me pause. A moment later, a large section of the ceiling, completely engulfed in flame, came crashing down from above. One of the guys behind me stepped forward and hosed it down, white smoke replacing the black smoke, fogging up the place even more than before.

“We don't have much time before this whole thing caves in,” he called out.

I nodded and gripped the ax I was carrying even tighter as I stopped to listen. I was intensely aware of the seconds ticking by. Every grain of sand slipping through the hourglass added to the pressure. I knew if we didn't find the person soon, get them out and get them to safety, this whole building was coming down.

Our Captain would, of course, order us out before the flames consumed the structure, but the person inside would be left inside. And I couldn't have that. I couldn't stand for it. Wouldn't. I was going to find them.

I looked left and right, trying to see through the darkness, but all I could see were the thick clouds of smoke choking the hallway, the clouds glowing a malevolent shade of orange and red as the fire climbed the walls around us.

“We need to get out of here,” my partner, Jimmy, called to me. “This thing is coming down. We need to get out now.”

I shook my head. “Another minute, man.”

“We may not have another minute!”

I strained my ears and stretched out all my senses and then I heard it. Heard her, rather. I heard coughing coming from nearby and I said a silent word of thanks, a powerful sense of relief flooding my body. That she was coughing meant she was breathing. Meaning, she was conscious and more importantly, alive. I lowered myself to the ground and felt my way around, edging forward while keeping an eye on the ceiling above us, following the sound of the coughing.

I finally found the wall with my hand and, using it as a guide, felt my way along it. The crack and pop of wood echoed around the hallway, sounding right above us. I cast a nervous eye upward, my gut tightening. The ceiling was going to come crashing down on us at any moment.

The coughing stopped abruptly and all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing in the mask. I focused on that because at least it meant I was alive. And as long as I was alive, I could keep doing my job. Trying to pick up my pace, conscious of the danger we were in, I kept edging forward, moving toward the sound of the woman's cough I'd heard only moments before. I moved forward and then stopped when the toe of my boot bumped into something on the ground.

I couldn't see it through the smoke and I couldn't tell what it was just by nudging it with my boot. I knelt down and reached out. I couldn't make out what it was through my gloves, but it was soft. And when I touched it, it moved. I gripped it a little tighter, a smile spreading across my face and relief flooding my body with the force of a tidal wave. It was a hand. Her hand.

I pulled myself closer and reached out, wrapping my arms around a body. Pulling her to me, I lifted the woman from the ground. She was limp, laying lifeless in my hands. She was small and light.

Still, even carrying a person as light as she was through the thick haze of smoke when you can't see an inch in front of you isn't easy. As soon as I had her in my arms, I turned and walked back the way I had come, my partner hot on my heels. I couldn't see the rest of my fellow firefighters through the curtain of blackness before me, nor could I hear them over the crackling flames and pieces of the building falling around us.

Except for my partner, I'd lost everybody when I went for her. I just had to trust they were there.

I also had to trust my instincts. Trust that I knew where I was going and that I could find the exit through the billowing smoke. And find it quickly – before the building came crashing down in a flaming ruin. At that moment, a familiar buzzing sounded in my ears and upped the ante even more – the oxygen in my tanks was starting to run low.

I had to hurry.

“We need to go, Ollie,” Jimmy called out. “We need to go now, man.”

“I know, I know,” I called back.

I sped up as much as I could and that's when I heard the thunderous crash of the roof as it caved in behind me. The ceiling was coming down around us, and if I wasn't careful and didn't get us out of harm's way soon, it was going crush us. Or trap us.

Either one would mean certain death for her and likely death for us as well. I hurried toward the exit – or what I hoped and prayed was the exit.

I stumbled over something in the darkness. Looking down, I realized I'd nearly tripped over the hose being used to extinguish the fire further inside the building. Which meant I was close. I tightened my grip on her and barreled forward, confident that Jimmy was right behind me. I followed the hose until we burst through the screen of smoke and we found ourselves outside. I tore off my mask and breathed deep, relishing the feel of the cool night air in my lungs as the lights of the crowd of emergency vehicles bathed us in flashes of red and blue.

Jimmy peeled off to find the Captain as I looked down at the girl in my arms and rushed toward the lights with her in my arms, calling out for the EMT's who were gathered about, waiting for something to do.

“She's alive but she won't be for long if she doesn't get help,” I called. “She needs oxygen.”

They took her from my arms and gently placed her on the ground. An older man stepped forward and began administering CPR as a woman put a bag over her mouth and started giving her oxygen. I took a step back, feeling myself begin to swoon. I was in a daze as I looked down at her face, lovely even covered in soot.

The woman coughed and opened her eyes, briefly. They looked unfocused and dazed at first. Not uncommon nor unexpected given what she'd just been through. I looked down into the two white and blue orbs in the middle of that gray and black stained face. She looked up at me, and I realized I knew those eyes.

I knew that face.

I noticed one other thing as well – both her hands and feet were bound. She'd been trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and left there to roast. Which meant this wasn't an accident. This wasn't a case of someone being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

This was attempted murder and Madison Haywood was lucky as hell to be alive.

 

CHAPTER TWO

MADISON

 

The last thing I remembered was being hit over the head. I felt a sharp, ringing pain and a moment after that, my whole world went black. After that, everything in my head was scrambled. But, I distinctly remembered taking a shot to the back of the head. I recalled the feeling of heat on my skin and the smell of smoke – that was what woke me up. And when I opened my eyes and saw the flames erupting all around me, I started screaming.

I screamed until my voice was hoarse and my throat was raw. I sobbed, knowing that it was futile, that nobody was going to hear me. Nobody was going to save me. I couldn't get up and run. Couldn't even move. My hands and feet were bound and I'd been left in the middle of a burning building – in the middle of a raging inferno – in the middle of the night.

I screamed again – mostly out of frustration and anger, rather than out of a belief that it would help. Who would hear me? I didn't think anyone would, but I kept screaming until my voice gave out.

Tears rolled down my face as I realized this was how I was going to die. It felt like the smoke and fire were searing my lungs and I was having a hard time breathing. The sinking realization that this was it had settled over me and I'd just about given up when the firefighter found me. As soon as I was in his arms, it was like my body said, “It's time to let go,” and I blacked out again. This time, from lack of oxygen, rather than a blow to the head.

The next thing I knew, my eyes were open and I was staring up at him. The last thought that crossed my mind before I found myself strapped down and wheeled into an ambulance was, “He looks familiar.”

It was all a blur though. I was so in and out of it that I couldn't recall much of what happened. And it wasn't until the next morning, when I awoke to the sounds of beeps and buzzing from the hospital, that the weight of everything that happened fully hit me. Hit me like a runaway train and left me breathless and scared.

I'd almost died. Scratch that, no, not died. I'd almost been murdered.

The weight of those words – I'd almost been murdered – pressed down on me like a ten thousand pound millstone. Knowing somebody wanted to kill me, to see me dead – the sense of dread it inspired in me was as deep as it was dark.

I cleared my still sore throat and looked around at my surroundings. I knew I was in a hospital because everything was so white and pristine. Sterile, really. The sounds echoing softly in the room around me were almost comforting, in a way. Mostly because at least I knew that since I was hearing them, I was alive and I was safe. A cop was sitting in the chair next to me, staring up at the television, a blank expression on his face.

“Excuse me?” My throat burned when I spoke, and I ended up coughing more than talking, but it got his attention.

The officer jumped, clearly surprised that I was awake. He was an older man with almost no hair, and the soft fringe he did have was snow white. I assumed he was there to protect me, but from the rounded gut and his age, I wasn't sure he'd be doing much in the way of protecting. Other than calling somebody for help.

I glanced toward the door and saw that another man was sitting in a chair just outside. I could only see his back, though, but I assumed he was another cop.

“Do you need a nurse?” the officer asked.

His shirt said his name was Officer Fellows. What a friendly name, I thought, hazily.

“I – I don't know,” I replied.

My head felt fuzzy and my vision wavered when I sat up. I winced as the IV pulled at my arm. My mouth was dry and my throat felt parched and cracked. So, maybe I did need a nurse? I had no idea what I needed.

Fellows pressed the call button anyway, signaling for a nurse to come and check on me.

“Miss Haywood, we have some questions for you,” he said, his voice softening. “As soon as you're feeling up to it, I'll need to ask about what happened last night.”

I nodded. “I'll help as much as I can,” I said. “But I can't promise I can give you anything useful. I can't remember what happened or why I was there in the first place.”

“You don't remember anything at all?”

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at me sympathetically, but also with some skepticism in his eyes. I just shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts and failing to do so. My brain was so scattered that it was like trying to catch puffs of a dandelion on a breeze.

“Unfortunately, no,” I replied, my voice quiet.

I furrowed my brow as I tried to recall anything about the night before. What I'd been doing before I'd been hit in the back of the head. I came up empty. I had to admit that walking into a warehouse in the middle of an abandoned area, at two in the morning, was stupid. And well out of character for me. I wasn't a paranoid girl, but times being what they were, I was certainly a cautious and smart girl.

Which begged the question – why had I done it?

“Do you think it might be an obsessed fan of yours?” Fellows pressed.

I shrugged. “I honestly don't know,” I said. “I'm trying to think of something, anything, and I'm just drawing a blank.”

The nurse stepped through the door, a pleasant look on her face – at least until she noticed the cop sitting there grilling me. She shot Fellows a dark look and then moved quickly to my bedside, tending to me and checking my stats before getting me a small cup of water.

“Ms. Haywood needs some rest,” the nurse said, giving the cop a definite side-eye.

“It's okay,” I said. “I want to help. It's just – I can't remember anything but bits and pieces of what happened last night anyway.”

“That isn't surprising, given that you sustained massive trauma to the head,” the nurse said with a sympathetic smile. “But hopefully, everything will come back in time.”

“Hopefully?”

I felt a tingle of worry in my stomach. Hopefully didn't sound good. Not good at all.

“The doctor will be in later to discuss all the details with you,” she said, her voice bright and reassuring.

She turned and walked to the door, leaving me with Officer Fellows who watched her go before turning back to me.

“You're lucky to be alive,” he said.

I remembered the firefighter who'd somehow managed to claw his way through the smoke and flames and had found me there on the floor. Luck had nothing to do with it. I felt like I had a guardian angel.

“Could you give me the name of the fireman who saved me?” I asked.

“Sure, I think I have that info right here actually,” he said.

He pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and flipped through the pages until he found a scrap of paper. He plucked it out of the notebook and held it out to me. Taking it in a trembling hand, I looked at the name that had been scribbled on the small page. It was a name I recognized.

Oliver Miller.

“Figured you might want to thank him once you feel better,” the cop said.

I nodded. “I'm going to get some rest,” I said. “Do you mind giving me a little privacy?”

“I'll wait out in the hall with Officer Lewis,” he said.

He stepped out of the room, leaving me alone. And even though I was tired, I couldn't stop thinking about the man who'd saved me. There was a reason his face looked familiar. And now that I had a name to go along with the face, the memories started flooding back to me.

Memories of how I'd hurt him all those years ago.

What were the chances he'd be the one who saved my life?

 

CHAPTER THREE

OLIVER

 

“Heard anything about that girl you saved?” Jimmy asked me as we were ending yet another twenty-four shift at the firehouse.

“She's alive and is probably going to be released within a few days,” I said.

I tried not to think too much about Madison Haywood, or that night I found her tied up in a burning building.

“She's alive thanks to you, man,” Jimmy said, patting me on the back as we stepped outside into the chilly, Chicago air.

The Chicago wind was strong – naturally – and cold, making me pull my jacket in tighter around me. I loved this city, but winters could be brutal, and this year was no exception. No snow yet, but it was coming. I could feel it in the air. It was only a matter of time.

“Nah, it wasn't just me in there,” I said. “It never is. You know that.”

“But you're the one who found her and pulled her out of there.” Jimmy had a smile on his face. “I know her name. Isn't she some kind of local celebrity or some shit?”

“She has a podcast,” I mumbled.

“A podcast?” he asked. “About what?”

I knew all about Madison Talks Murder because I listened to her podcast. Often. I was impressed with her vast knowledge on the subject and with how far she'd come. I was also impressed with how often she turned out to be right about a case.

Most of the cases she took on were cold cases. Cases that had been dormant for years and years. Some of Chicago's most notorious crimes that were yet unsolved. Madison looked at the evidence, brought in experts, and used her whip-smart brain to come up with theories as to who was behind it.

All infused with her snarky-ass mouth, of course. It's part of what made her show so enjoyable – her personality.

“Yeah, umm... it's about murder and true crime,” I said, scratching my head. “Not that I really listen, or anything.”

“Maybe we should start,” Jimmy said with a wink.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

My reasons for listening were more complicated than just having an interest in the subject matter. Not that I expected her to remember me, but I'd known Madison years and years ago – long before she was famous. Hell, before she'd even gone away to college and achieved that impressive criminal science and journalism qualification that was making her so popular and successful today.

That was long before I became a firefighter. Before I even knew what I was going to do with my life. Back then, I was just another guy meandering through life without a plan. Without a clue. Just another guy who lusted after Madison – one in a very long line of guys who did.

She'd always had her fans, even back then. Being a tall natural blonde with blue eyes and the body of a supermodel, she'd always attracted attention wherever she went. But it was her mind – her love of reading and keeping up with current events – that first attracted me to her.

“Everything okay with you, Oliver?” Jimmy's voice intruded into my thoughts.

I blinked, staring back at my friend in confusion. We were an odd pair. Jimmy was about my age with dark hair and olive colored skin, thanks to his Italian heritage. He was five foot nine, stocky and stronger than a damn ox. Which was why he'd been able to carry my massive ass body out of that burning building.

“Yeah, I'm good,” I lied. “Just need some coffee.”

Really, I needed some sleep. And to check on Madison. To make sure she was doing okay. Not that it was any of my business.

“I hear that,” he said. “Get some rest, man.”

“Yeah, you too.”

I walked to my truck, climbed inside, and waved to Jimmy. He walked over to his SUV and, as the door opened, I saw the toys scattered all over the front seat. Kids, man. Sometimes I forgot that Jimmy had kids. That he was more than just one of the guys. We rarely saw each other outside of work anymore, so it was easy to forget about the wife and babies.

I lowered the window on my truck and called out to him, “Tell Cassie I said hi.”

“Will do,” Jimmy said. “But you know what she's going to say if I even mention your name— ”

“I know,” I laughed. “Tell her I'm still not looking for a girlfriend.”

“Andi is pretty hot, man,” he said. “Just sayin'.”

“I'm sure she is.”

I still wasn't interested. Eventually, I'd have to give in and meet her. Cassie was a bulldog and once she got her teeth into something, she wasn't one who let up. And her current pet project was making sure I had a woman in my life.

“You'll get to meet her at dinner next week,” Jimmy called back. “You're still coming, right?”

I cringed. I'd already told him I'd be there, but that was before I knew Andi would be there. Check that, before I'd been set up on this blind date by Cassie.

And that was also before I ran into Madison. Or rather, before I saved Madison's life in a way that brought back so many painful memories, I didn't even know where to start.

I nodded, not really committing to anything. I still had plenty of time to come up with an excuse.

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

Jimmy was behind me as we entered the building. I knew the house well. The address was a familiar one, because, I'd just left it just hours before.

Jimmy grabbed my shoulder and shouted, “You sure you can—” but I shrugged him off.

There was no time for questions. There was no time to stop and think about whether this was a good idea or not. Of course it was. Because I was one more person who might find her. And right now, she needed as many eyes looking for her as possible.

I had to save her.

Her bedroom was on the second floor and I rushed toward the stairs before anyone could stop me. It was two in the morning; she would be asleep.

The photographs that lined the wall up the stairs were melting into a Salvador Dali-esque painting. Pictures of her and me blended into family photos, all becoming one. Frames were nothing but dripping plastic.

The floor underneath me cracked, the wood weaker already. But I pulled myself upward, remembering the steps instead of looking for them. I'd come up here numerous times. Countless times.

And this would be the last. Whatever happened – I would save her – her home was destroyed. There would be no more late nights together in this house. Not anymore. Not after this.

The Italian leather sofa she'd bought last month after her promotion was gone. Burnt to a crisp before we'd even gotten there. She'd have nothing left. All the little things she'd been so proud to buy, so proud to furnish her own place with – gone. Nothing more than smoldering ruin and smoke now.

But she had me and she could stay with me for as long as she needed.

Even if it meant staying with me forever.

I reached the top landing and called out through my mask, “Lauren?”

I turned the corner and felt along the wall until I found her door. Closed, as usual. She had a weird thing with leaving the door open while she slept. I felt the knob and turned it carelessly. I didn’t think when I opened the door and a column of smoke hit me followed by a wave of flame that rushed toward me like an enraged bull. The heat was intense and the smoke thick. It made it hard to see a damn thing.

“Lauren!” I screamed again, this time not sure if my words even came out of my mouth.

Maybe I was screaming in my head. I didn't know. Panic took over and I rushed, blindly, into the bedroom. I had only a moment to process what was in that room before I was standing smack dab in the middle of it.

Lauren's bed was on fire, flames crawling up the walls and scorching the ceiling. At first, I assumed she was in the middle of the bed, burnt to a cinder like her Italian leather sofa and my heart fell into my stomach. But, then I saw her body crumpled in the corner. I ran to her and found her unresponsive.

She wasn't breathing.

I ripped off my face mask and put it on her face. Her beautiful face. She'd needed air and she needed it right then and there. I wasn't thinking about myself.

I was only thinking about her.

It wasn't until later, when Jimmy dropped me onto the ground outside, on the grass, that I took another breath. It hurt to breathe in and the coughing about killed me coming out, but I was breathing.

My first words were, “Lauren? Where is she?”

But the look on Jimmy's face told me everything I'd needed to know.

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

I woke with a start. Sweat covered every inch of my body as I stared at the clock. It was just after nine in the morning, and I'd only been asleep for three hours. Groaning loudly, I collapsed back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, my heart racing as I tried to forget about the dream.

More like, I tried to forget about the past.

It was hard – if not impossible – to do when you were in this line of work. I knew that I let myself get too close to some things and didn't keep the proper perspective. No matter what we did, no matter how right we did things, we weren't always going to be able to save everybody, every time.

We could do everything right and by the book and, still, people were going to die. It was the nature of the beast. It was a hazard and an unfortunate reality of the job I'd chosen to do. The life I'd dedicated myself to. I hated it with every fiber of my being, but it was what it was. It was reality.

Maybe Jimmy was right – I shouldn't have gone into the house. But, I'd been compelled to. I couldn't just sit outside and hope for the best. Couldn't let somebody else do my job. Couldn't let somebody else try to save her while I sat outside, where it was safe, with my thumb up my ass.

But Jimmy was right because no matter what I did, I couldn't save her. Couldn't have possibly done anything that would have changed the outcome. By the time we'd rolled up, it was already too late. He knew it. Tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. I just couldn't stand by, feeling utterly helpless and useless.

At least I could say that I tried. Tried to save her. Tried to do something. At least I could say that, even though I was going to have to live with the nightmares and the memory of my failure, for the rest of my goddamned life.

Feeling the familiar weight of depression hanging heavy upon my head, I swung my feet over the side of the bed and got up. No use trying to go back to sleep now, even though my body was exhausted. My mind wasn't going to let it happen. I knew the drill. Every time I'd close my eyes, the images would come roaring back to torment me. The images of one dead woman would dance on my eyelids like a horror movie straight out of the bowels of my own personal hell, playing out again and again on an endless goddamn loop. No matter what I did or how fast I moved, the ending would always remain the same. Always.

Lauren would always be dead.

Because I'd failed her.

I shouldn't have gone to work that day. It was my day off, a night when I was supposed to be with her. If I had stayed, I could have gotten her out of the burning house in time. If I'd stayed, I could have saved her and she'd be here with me today.

If only I'd stayed, I would have smelled the smoke. Would have known exactly what to do. The fire had started in the garage, directly under her bedroom. The exact cause was still unknown – a fact that didn't make me feel any better about it. If anything, it made me even more uneasy about what had happened.

Which was why I was getting more and more interested in Madison's podcast. She'd broached the subject of an arsonist preying on our city right before she was found inside a burning warehouse on the outskirts of town. Yeah, that wasn't fishy or anything. Not at all.

Thinking about Madison, I knew what I had to do. Maybe it would help the nightmares, maybe it wouldn't. Either way, it might save another life. I threw on some clothes and hurried out to my truck. The frigid Chicago air made it hurt to draw breath, but I was still drenched in sweat from the dream, so the chill almost felt nice. Almost. Even I had my limits.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

MADISON

 

“There's someone here to see you,” Abigail, one of the nurses said as she popped her head into the door of my room. “Are you feeling up for a little company?”

“Who is it?” I asked.

My parents had just left, my sister wasn't in town, and my best friend was at work and would be stopping by later – all of which significantly narrowed down my potential visitors list. Knowing that, I had a feeling it might be more cops with even more questions.

To be frank, I wasn't feeling up to another round of questions. Abigail must have seen it on my face.

“It's the fireman who saved you,” she said with a grin. “Said he just wanted to see how you were doing but wasn't sure you were up to visitors.”

Oliver. Oh God, it was Oliver. No matter how I felt, he at least deserved a thank you. Turning somebody away who'd saved my life was a dick move. No matter how tired I was, refusing to see him and show a little appreciation was a total dick move.

“It's fine,” I said.

My throat was still raw and scratchy, but overall, I was starting to feel better. I'd had a few days of IVs, and doctors pumping all kinds of chemicals into my bloodstream, and I was starting to feel a little more human. Still couldn't remember much about the incident, but the doctors said to give it a few more days and that my memories should start coming back to me. They said my brain scans showed that I had a concussion and a minor brain bleed, but it was healing.

I was healing.

When Oliver stepped through the door, however, my breath caught in my throat. I wasn't prepared for the rush of endorphins that he brought out in me. Over the years since the last time I'd seen him, he'd grown quite a bit taller. He'd filled out too. Oliver Miller had always been an attractive boy but, now, I had to admit that he was an incredibly good-looking man.

The sandy blonde hair he'd had in his youth was now a shade or so darker, making it almost brown. He kept it shaved close to his head, these days, rather than the long, shaggy locks he'd sported back in high school. Back then, his hair looked messy. Unkempt. And yet, it still had a charm all its own. Because he was a football player, he'd had no shortage of girls clamoring for his attention, but he was more than just a jock. He'd also won more than a few girls over with his guitar playing and singing.

His cheekbones had always been enviable and, now, with his body more defined and muscular, everything about him looked sharper. Stronger and fiercer – except for the dimples that dotted his cheeks when he smiled. They were still there. Thank God for that.

His piercing blue eyes stared right at me – right through me, really – and neither one of us said anything for a long time. I honestly wasn't even sure if he'd remembered me.

In a way, I hoped he didn't. Hoped that, to him, I was just another faceless victim he'd saved. No doubt, one of many, given his line of work. Though, I had to wonder if he visited all the people he'd saved in the hospital, or if he was here because he remembered me.

“I'm glad to see you're doing better,” he said, finally breaking the long pause between us. “Doctors said you should make a full recovery.”

“All thanks to you.”

He shook his head and gave me a lopsided smile. “All thanks to the Chicago fire department,” he said. “We're a team and we all—”

“I don't recall anyone else carrying me out of the building,” I said.

“They were there. I just happened to find you before they did, Madison,” he said. “But, they would have found you.”

The way he'd said my name answered the lingering question in my head definitively. He knew me.

“Oliver, I'm sorry, I—” my eyes welled up as I remembered what had happened between us but Oliver just shook his head and stopped me cold.

“The past is the past, Madison,” he said and he smiled at me.

It was a smile that could light up a hundred rooms. A hundred city blocks. His teeth were as white and perfect as I remembered them to be. Everything about this man was perfect – why had I fucked things up so badly all those years ago again?

Oh, that's right, I silently chastised myself, It's because I'd been a bitch back then.

Oliver sat down in the chair next to my bed, and I sat up a little straighter, holding his gaze. I wasn't exactly sure what to say to him other than, thank you. It just seemed so inadequate and there was so much more between us that needed to be said. Needed to be discussed. I couldn't find the words inside of me though. Which was rare and a little disconcerting for me, since I made a living always having the words to express myself.

Judging by the way Oliver's eyes bored into mine and the way he kept rubbing his chin, I had a feeling that there was more he wanted to say too. I was hoping he'd find the words and we could get this conversation going because the silence was awkward and painful.

“Umm, so, they said you don't remember much about that night we found you in the warehouse,” Oliver said, staring down at his hands.

“I've lost most of my memories of that night, directly leading up to the attack, that's correct.”

“Do you know why you were there?” he asked. “Being in an old warehouse in the middle of the night doesn't exactly sound safe. Or sane.”

I shrugged. “No, it doesn’t. Not really,” I said. “I keep trying to remember why I was there in the first place. I don’t recall what business I had out there. But, it's a big blank. I honestly can't remember most of that evening.”

“Do you have any texts? Calls?” he pressed. “Anything that might give a hint?”

I shook my head. “My phone can't be located,” I said. “I guess it was taken. The cops are looking into it.”

He looked utterly floored by what I'd just said. The expression on his face made it seem like I'd just given him the worst news of the day. He shook his head, and I could tell he was lost in his thoughts. Thoughts that had nothing to do with me.

“I'm really sorry you went through all of that,” he said softly.

His fists were balled up in his lap and he was glaring at them. His body was tense, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. Something had really gotten under his skin and I so badly wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand, and ask him what was bothering him. We sat there in a silence saturated with tension bordering on anger – though I knew his anger wasn't directed at me. If anything, it seemed to be directed inward. At himself.

“Oliver, listen,” I said, finally working up the nerve to reach out and take his hand in mine. “You saved my life. I'm alive, talking to you right now, because of you. You have nothing to be sorry about, and I'll heal. I'm going to be released in a few days, and—”

“They're going to release you?” he asked.

I nodded. “Maybe as early as tomorrow.”

“Is that safe?”

“I've already cleared their concussion protocols,” I said. “And I'm no longer dehydrated. My burns have been—”

“No, I mean because of the people who did this to you,” he said. “They're still out there. What if they try again?”

“You're certain it was intentional?” I asked.

I already knew the answer to that question and I don't know why I even asked it. Although I didn't remember much, I remembered being hit on the back of the head. Clubbing somebody on the back of the head and leaving them inside a burning building couldn't be anything but intentional. And as I absorbed that fact, I felt a chill run down my spine, working its way through my gut, and finally wrapping its long, cold tendrils around my heart, squeezing it tight.

Oliver looked at me, a knowing expression on his face. “I'm almost positive,” he said. “And I can tell by the look in your eyes that you know it too.”

“Well, I'll have people watching over me,” I said. “I'll be fine.”

“That's not enough,” he muttered.

“Oliver?”

He turned to look at me, those brilliant baby blue eyes drinking me in. His gaze, so deep and so penetrating made my heart stutter and my pulse race. But, in those eyes, I saw so much sorrow and sadness. I saw so much hurt in his eyes that it killed me. It was physically painful to see the way he looked at me – and I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with our past. Or whatever you'd call what we had together.

“Is there something you'd like to talk about?” I asked. “Something you know that I – or the police – don't?”

He hesitated, then licked his lips and looked away again. His expression grim, he shook his head.

“No,” he said softly. “Not really.”

“Not really?”

“I mean – you're not the first,” he said. “You're not even the second. But you already know all that.”

“I do?”

“Your podcast,” he said. “You mentioned it last week. Right before the – incident.”

As he reminded me of it, I recalled briefly that, yes, I had been looking into a few suspicious cases of arson around the city. It wasn't anything in depth just yet, though. I mainly put it out there for my audience, telling them that the cases seemed to be linked, at least to me. I recall that I'd asked for anyone with any information about those cases to contact me.

The podcast had generated a few leads, but nothing concrete – and nothing I could remember at that moment. The blank spots in my memory made me glad that I always kept a paper trail of everything I did.

“You're right,” I said.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember what I'd written down. My notes. His reminder of that podcast sparked some interest running through my brain. Made me wonder if there was a connection between those cases and what happened to me. If nothing else, I was hoping that maybe sifting through my notes could help jog my memory.

The only problem was, all my notes were at home. I turned and looked at Oliver, wondering if he might be willing to – I cut off the thought mid-stream, though. I'd ask my best friend to bring them over with her when she came to see me. I didn't want to put that kind of pressure on someone I hardly knew.

“I'll see what I can figure out,” I said.

“I want to help you,” he said, running a hand over his short-cropped hair.

“You do?”

He nodded. “I have my reasons, but yes,” he said. “I want to figure out who did this to you. And why.”

A small smile touched my lips. One I had to push away. I wasn't sure why the idea of working alongside Oliver made me feel giddy – the primal part of my brain telling me it was because he looked so damn hot. Or maybe it was because I'd always thought he was a pretty good guy.

Not that I'd ever needed a man in my life. But the idea of working with Oliver, having him help me figure out who'd done this to me and why, lifted my spirits a bit.

“Well, if you really want to help, do you think you could start by running over to my house and picking up a few of my things?” I asked. “Notebooks and recordings I made about my investigation so far?”

He stood up, but I stopped him before he left. He turned back to me and cocked his head, questioningly.

“Thank you,” I said, gripping his hand tightly.

He squeezed mine in return and gave me a gentle smile. “I want to find this person as much as you do,” he said. “Believe me, I do.”

“I already owe you so much, Oliver. I owe you my life and I'm not sure I'll be able to repay you for that,” I said. “If there's anything I can do for you, just ask.”

He looked at me for a long moment and then his eyes lit up, looking as if a light bulb had just been switched on behind them. He looked down at me with a half-grin on his handsome, chiseled face.

“If you wouldn't mind,” he started, “there actually is something I could use your help with.”

“Anything,” I said. “After I get out of this hospital bed.”

“You'll be out next week, right?”

“Like I said, they're talking tomorrow or the next day,” I said. “Provided there are no complications or setbacks. If not, then I'd be more than happy to help you – so as long as it's nothing too brutal.”

“How about dinner?” he asked.

I cocked an eyebrow, my expression asking him to elaborate. He gave me another small smile.

“Not like dinner, dinner. Not like a date dinner,” he said. “But, I have a friend whose wife keeps doing everything she can to set me up with one of her friends, and well—”

“You need a wingwoman, that's it?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he said. “Actually, pretty much that.”

“That's asking a lot, Oliver,” I said, laughing, hoping he'd get that I was joking. “But for the man who saved my life, I think I can swing a dinner and a few hours of pretending to be his date.”

It was more than that, though. My heart still raced every time he turned those eyes toward me, and I couldn't deny that seeing him again would be nice. Especially in a less awkward place than a hospital room.

“It's on Friday night. I'll pick you up at six,” he said. “As for the here and now though, I'll head over to your place and be right back with your things.”

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

“This was all of it?” I muttered, digging through the box full of notebooks and things he'd brought in.

“Yeah, all that was on your desk, at least,” he said. “Unless you put it—”

“No,” I replied. “I kept everything in one place. Always.”

“I gathered that,” he said, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I could tell by now neat and organized everything was.”

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was judging me. As I looked at him though, I knew he wasn't being malicious and decided that it didn't matter anyway.

“This can't be all of it,” I said. “I know there are a few things about my last case missing – things I definitely remember having and being among the rest of my things. I distinctly recall having a green notebook like this.”

I held up a red and blue notebook, one with dates and the cases covered written on the front.

“Don't you keep anything on your computer?” he asked.

“No, computers can be compromised.”

“Apparently, so can notebooks,” he said.

“So, someone was in my house then,” I said. “Somebody stole my materials.”

The mere idea of someone entering my home – with or without me there – disturbed me on a deep, primal level. I wasn't too keen on having my workplace and my sanctuary violated like that. Or, hell, maybe my memory was still playing tricks on me and I was misremembering what I did and didn't have.

I would have sworn though, that there had been a bright green notebook for the arson cases I was looking into as well as another case that had caught my eye. Both were future topics to be discussed in my podcast, nothing more.

“And there were no tapes?” I asked.

“None,” he said. “I saw the tape recorder, but there were no tapes I could find.”

“Dammit,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Someone stole them. Somebody broke into my house and stole them. They knew we were on to them, so they broke into my place and stole them.”

“They have access to your house then,” Oliver said. “Which means you can't stay there once you're discharged from here.”

“I'll stay in a hotel—”

“What kind of old friend would I be if I made you stay in a hotel, Madison?” he asked. “No, you're staying with me. I have a spare bedroom with its own bath and it'll be way more comfortable than some ratty old hotel.”

I stared at him for a long time, my mouth hanging wide open. Had he just—? He'd really just invited me to stay at his place and even claimed to be old friends. I almost couldn't believe it. I certainly had no idea what to make of it.

“No, a hotel will do just fine,” I said. “But, thank you.”

He gave me a look that said there was no getting out of it, but I smirked, knowing full well that I would be doing what I wanted. No man told me what to do. Even if he wanted to pretend like we were old friends, that wasn't the case. We knew each other. We went on a date back when we'd been in high school – and then I ghosted him because I had to focus on school. Boys were a distraction I couldn't afford and I had to cut them out of my life.

It was Daddy's orders, but I agreed with him. Not that I wanted to leave Oliver in the dust like I'd done, but I had to put myself first.

I was still that hard-headed and sometimes selfish person, so if Oliver thought he was going to put one over on me – well, he was in for a surprise.

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

OLIVER

 

I'd tried to make a dozen different excuses, but Jimmy wasn't buying any of them. Probably because Cassie was squeezing him to make this blind date – which was not so cleverly disguised as just a friendly dinner get-together – happen. And although Jimmy was a big, strong guy who didn't take shit from anybody, when Cassie said jump, he asked “how high” on the way up.

Jimmy liked to pretend he was the big man, in control and in charge of everything. But, at home, I knew who was in charge.

“So, tonight then, right?” he asked as we got dressed after a long shift. “You better show up or Cassie is gonna have my balls.”

I scoffed. “She already has them,” I said. “She wears 'em on a necklace. Who do you think you're fooling?”

He grinned, knowing I was right. “Yeah, maybe,” he said. “Just know that if you don't show, she'll toss that necklace in the fireplace. So seriously, do me a favor – save my balls and show up.”

I laughed. “I think I'm coming down with something,” I said, feigning a cough. “I may just need to—”

“Yeah, my ass,” he replied, punching me in the shoulder. “Six thirty. You have your ass there or I'll set fire to your balls, buddy.”

Grinning, I nodded. I knew there was no way I was getting out of this. At least I had a contingency plan in place though. A security blanket. A secret weapon. And, best of all, a way around Cassie's oh-so-cleverly orchestrated plan to find me love.

Madison.

I still had a few reservations and misgivings about bringing her along but figured that she'd provide me with a solid enough buffer that Cassie's friend – Angie, or whatever her name was – would take the hint and move on to some other guy.

“So, I'll see you at six thirty, right?”

I looked over at Jimmy and groaned. “I don't have much choice in the matter, do I?”

“None, actually,” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied as unenthusiastically as I could. “I'll see you then.”

Jimmy nodded and clapped me on the shoulder. “Don't worry, man,” he said. “It'll be great. And hey, pretend to have some fun and you might actually have some by accident. You never know.”

“The mind reels with anticipation.”

He gave me a grin as he turned and headed off to his SUV. I walked over to my truck and chirped off the alarm, pulled the door open and climbed inside. Jimmy honked at me as roared out of the parking lot. Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had enough time to get home, nap for an hour, and grab a shower before I had to pick Madison up.

I sighed as I pulled out of the parking lot, completely dreading the evening ahead.

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

The door opened and I saw Cassie's eyes grow wide when she saw me there with Madison standing right next to me. But, being the gracious woman she always was, she quickly recovered and put a wide, welcoming smile on her face. I doubted Madison even caught it, and it was only because I knew Cassie so well that I saw the look of near panic in her eyes.

“Oliver,” she said brightly. “Come in, come in. It's freezing out there.”

We stepped into the foyer of the house and Cassie shut the door behind us. I took off my coat and then took Madison’s, hanging them both up on the rack next to the door. I handed Cassie the bottle of wine I'd brought along with me.

“My mother taught me never to show up empty-handed,” I said and grinned at her.

“Your mother was a wise woman well-versed in social graces,” she said.

“She had her moments,” I replied and then motioned to my guest. “Cassie, this is Madison—”

“Oh, yes, the girl from the fire,” she said. “Jimmy's told me a little bit. I hope you're okay.”

“I'm doing much better, thank you,” she said, her voice soft.

Like clouds passing in front of the moon, a look of uncertainty passed across Madison's face. I didn't know if that look was because they were speaking about her behind her back, or because she didn't like being referred to as the girl from the fire.

Could have gone either way, really.

But, just like Cassie had a moment ago, Madison smoothed out her features again in a heartbeat. You'd never know by looking at her that she'd just been upset or rattled by what Cassie had said. She gave Cassie a smile that was warm but still looked a little uncertain.

“I hope it's okay that Oliver brought me, he said—”

Cassie waved her off and laughed. “Just an informal little dinner gathering,” she said. “The more, the merrier.”

Madison smiled and seemed to relax a little bit. Her smile was a little warmer and far less forced than it had been a moment ago.

“Please, let's all go into the dining room,” Cassie said. “It's warmer in there and, more importantly, that's where the food and booze are.”

Madison stepped ahead of us and, as I turned to go, Cassie shot me a look that was somehow simultaneously an expression of amusement and a promise of retribution for thwarting her master plan. I just flashed her a grin in return and allowed her to walk in front of me.

“You're just full of surprises, aren't you?” she said quietly, looking over her shoulder at me.

“I have my moments,” I said with a shrug.

We stepped into the dining room where Jimmy was sitting at the table with a woman I could only assume was Angie. With long, dark hair, green eyes, and porcelain-colored skin, there was no question that she was a beautiful woman. A stunner, honestly. But, in my mind, she didn't quite compare to Madison. Madison had a more wholesome, girl-next-door thing about her, while Angie sort of looked like a shark. Like a woman who could chew you up and spit you out if she wanted to.

When those green eyes of Angie's fell upon us as we stepped into the room, I saw them widen with surprise when she saw Madison. She cut a quick glance to Cassie, who gave her a very subtle shrug of the shoulders, and then over to me. I saw her look me up and down like I was a piece of meat. And judging by the look in her eyes, I could see that she saw me as a piece of meat she'd really like to sink her teeth into.

Normally, I didn't have an issue with being objectified by women. It was part and parcel of being a fireman. Came with the territory and I was used to it, honestly. But I wasn't in the mood for romance and hadn't been in some time. Jimmy knew that. And Cassie knew it too.

And yet, despite that, she'd been working overtime to set me up with one of her friends. Hell, she was trying to set me up with anybody – one time, she even tried to set me up with the cashier at the local grocery store, claiming she thought we could be soul mates.

Cassie's heart was in the right place, but she was seriously barking up the wrong tree. Jimmy was taking a drink of his beer when we came in and he set it down, giving me an amused little smirk and a shake of the head.

“Everybody,” Cassie said, always the gracious host, “this is Madison. Madison, this is my husband Jimmy, who I think you've met briefly. And this is my friend, Andi.”

Andi. Right. Andi, not Angie. Oh well, not like she was going to be in my life long enough for that little miscue to matter anyway.

Jimmy raised his bottle in greeting and Andi looked at Madison, giving her a smile that didn't come anywhere near to reaching her eyes. She was looking at her in much the same way I'd seen lions stare each other down over the corpse of a gazelle on those nature documentaries I sometimes watched.

In other words, Andi was looking at Madison like she was competition.

Little did Andi know the competition was already over. There had never been one, no matter how badly Cassie wanted there to be. And looking at the way Andi was looking at Madison, it made me glad I'd brought her along in the first place. She was the perfect and, apparently, very needed, buffer between Cassie's friend and me.

“Nice to meet you both,” Madison said.

I pulled out the chair for her across the table from Andi – no need to tempt fate by putting her within arm's reach of Cassie's friend – and Madison took a seat. She looked up and gave me a little smile, a look of surprise on her face, as if a man had never pulled out a chair for her before.

“Drinks?” Cassie chirped.

“Beer, please,” I said.

“I'll take a glass of wine, please,” Madison replied.

“Coming right up,” Cassie said and bustled off to the kitchen.

An awkward silence filled the air around us as we all stared at one another, nobody quite sure what to say. Obviously, I'd been brought there to meet Andi, so showing up with Madison in tow threw a bit of a damper on their love connection. Which, of course, had been my plan all along.

“So,” Jimmy started, clearing his throat. “How are you feeling, Madison? You doing okay?”

She cut an uncertain glance at me, obviously unsure how much Jimmy knew about her situation. Hell, she was probably unsure of how much I knew about her situation – which, truthfully, wasn't much. All I knew was how we found her – tied up and left to burn to death in a building. It wasn't something I wanted to press her on though.

“I— I'm doing okay, thank you,” she said.

“What happened?” Andi asked.

It was my turn to clear my throat. I didn't want to speak out of turn or make Madison uncomfortable, but the way Andi asked, it didn't sound like she was actually concerned. More like she was morbidly curious. Like one of those lookey-loos at the scene of a fire or an accident – somebody fascinated with the blood and gore of it all.

Madison hesitated.

“She was injured,” I said. “On a call we had recently.”

Jimmy looked at me and gave me a small nod, seeming to understand my desire to keep it under wraps. It wasn't ours to talk about.

“Oh?” Andi asked as she took a sip of her wine. “That sounds terrible. I'm sorry to hear that.”

I was hoping she'd leave it at that. But, of course, she wasn't going to make it that easy.

“Injured how?” Andi pressed. “What happened?”

Madison sat up a little taller in her chair and I saw a look of grim determination flash across her features. She obviously recognized the situation she was in and knew that Andi was picking at her, trying to get her flustered.

“I was in a building that was on fire,” Madison said flatly. “Oliver and Jimmy pulled me out of it. They saved my life.”

“To be fair,” Jimmy said, “Ollie did all the heavy lifting—”

“Oh, you think I'm heavy?” Madison asked, a wide grin on her face.

“Yeah, you stepped in it now, buddy,” I said to Jimmy.

“Not what I meant,” he said and laughed. “Not even close to what I meant.”

“So, what did you mean?” Madison pressed.

“I just meant that he carried you out—”

“Because I'm so heavy,” she said. “I'm surprised you boys didn't need to call in a crane or a flatbed truck.”

We all laughed and Jimmy shook his head, his cheeks an unnatural shade of red. I was glad to see Madison loosen up a little bit and have some fun, showing off that personality and wit I found so attractive. The atmosphere in the dining room lifted almost immediately, and a lot of the tension that had saturated the air before dissipated.

Andi, of course, wasn't amused. She nodded, the look on her face knowing. Though, I had no idea what she thought she knew. At least, not until she opened her mouth and spoke again.

“So, is that how you two met?” Andi asked. “When they saved your life?”

The insinuation seemed pretty clear, even to me. Not that I was a shrink or anything, but I imagined, in her mind, Andi probably thought Madison was out with me out of some misplaced sense of hero-worship or gratitude. Or something equally as stupid as that.

“Actually,” I said. “Madison and I have known each other for a long time. High school, right?”

Color flared in Madison's cheeks and she nodded, a small smile touching her lips. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

The insinuation I hoped to make to Andi with that remark was that our relationship was long-standing and had nothing to do with the fact that we'd pulled her out of a burning building. Andi's jaw set, though, and she looked determined to undermine Madison at every turn.

If she kept that up, this was going to be one long-ass night.

“So, anyway,” Andi said, “about this fire—”

“Let's skip the shop talk, huh?” Cassie said as she stepped back into the room.

Andi frowned, her mouth settling into a little pout. I gave Cassie a grateful look and she tipped me a wink. She set a beer down in front of me and a glass of wine down in front of Madison before taking her seat.

She held up her glass and smiled. “To new friends,” she said, giving Madison a warm smile.

“And old ones,” I replied.

We all clinked glasses – Andi, reluctantly so. But, the conversation after that was easy and free-flowing. Cassie had gotten the message that I wasn't interested in Andi and, of course, was shifting her attention to Madison, asking her a million different questions, trying to ferret out whatever information she could. Cassie was like a big sister, checking out a prospective new girl, and would only allow me to date her if she gave me her stamp of approval.

“Penn State, huh?” Cassie asked, clearly impressed.

Madison nodded. “Yeah, I double majored in Journalism and Criminal Justice.”

Andi looked thoroughly unimpressed. “I graduated from Boston College with a law degree.”

This game of one-upmanship – something Andi had embarked upon after Cassie shut her down about the fire – was going to get old real fast. Cassie had gotten the message; why couldn't Andi? Jimmy and I exchanged a look and a small shrug of the shoulders.

A timer went off in the kitchen and Cassie started to get up. I quickly jumped to my feet and motioned for her to stay put.

“We'll get it,” I said. “Jimmy and I. You relax.”

Cassie gave me a look and a small smile, but settled back into her seat and picked up her wine glass. Jimmy and I hurried out of the dining room and into the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, I let out a long breath.

“That woman is a shark,” I said. “Wow. How could you guys even think about setting me up with her?”

Jimmy laughed and held up his hand. “Hey, it wasn't me,” he said. “Talk to Cassie.”

“Yeah, I'll do that.”

“Madison though,” he said. “Nice call on that.”

“I figured I needed a buffer.”

“Buffer, huh?” he said, a grin on his face. “Looks like a little more than a buffer to me.”

“Got no idea what you're talking about.”

Jimmy laughed and got another couple of beers out of the refrigerator and handed me one. Madison and I had a bit of a history, that was for sure. Not that it was a good history. But, a history nonetheless. He took a long pull of his beer, his eyes fixed on mine.

“What?” I finally asked.

“I see the way you look at her, man,” he replied.

“Madison?”

“No, Cassie,” he laughed. “Yes, Madison, you twit.”

“I don't look at her like anything.”

“The hell you don't,” he said. “I can practically see the cartoon hearts floating above your head.”

I laughed. “You are so full of shit,” I said and took a long drink of my beer.

“If you say so.”

“I do say so,” I said. “Now, come on. We need to get all the food out to the table.”

We picked up the platters of food and walked out to the dining room, Jimmy laughing the whole time. After setting everything down, we took our seats and I looked at the spread before us.

“This looks amazing, Cassie,” I said. “Thanks for having us.”

“You're always welcome,” she replied. “You're family, after all.”

I cut a glance over at Madison who looked back at me and smiled. Jimmy's words rattled around in my head and I tried to avoid giving her a look that entailed cartoon hearts floating above my head. I really didn't think I was giving her a look like Jimmy described but, even if I was, could anybody blame me? Madison was a knockout. A flat-out knockout. Whip-smart and with a personality brighter than the sun.

Could I really be blamed if I looked at her a little googly-eyed? I wasn't, but even if I had been, could anybody blame me?

“So, Jimmy mentioned something about a podcast?” Cassie asked.

Madison's face lit up and she smiled. Obviously, she enjoyed talking about her passion in life. As we ate, Madison told us all about her podcast, about how her degrees from Penn State helped her launch it, and where she wanted to take it in the future. She rattled on, incredibly excited about it. And through it all, Andi looked incredibly bored.

“Yeah, I don't listen to podcasts,” Andi said when Madison stopped talking. “Not enough time, what with all of the important work I'm doing.”

The remark was obviously meant to be cutting, even earning a look of reproach from Cassie. To her credit though, Madison just smiled and shrugged it off.

“It's not for everybody,” she said evenly. “But, I am proud of the fact that my investigations have led to the arrest of a number of men who'd believed they'd gotten away with murder.”

“That's right,” I said, suddenly feeling defensive of her. “She's doing good work. She's given peace of mind to quite a few families who suffered for years, never knowing who murdered their loved one.”

“Oh, I didn't know you were such a regular listener,” Jimmy said, a shit-eating grin on his face.

I felt the color rush into my cheeks. Busted. I'd told Jimmy I'd only listened a few times, but I obviously sounded like a devoted fan. Which, I was. But, that was supposed to be my secret. Dammit. Cassie looked at me with a smile in her eyes and a knowing expression on her face, Andi looked at me with disdain, though the real venom was reserved for Madison, and Jimmy just laughed at me.

“Yeah, I listen,” I said. “It's a good show. Informative. Interesting.”

Madison looked at me and smiled, her own cheeks coloring. Obviously, she didn't know I was a regular listener either.

Eventually, dinner came to an end. I helped Cassie clear off the table and clean up the kitchen. Before we headed back out into the dining room though, she grabbed me by the arm and looked me dead in the eye.

“She's a good girl,” she said.

I cocked my head and looked at her, not sure who she was referring to. “Who? Andi?”

Cassie slapped me playfully on the arm. “No, you dummy. Madison,” she said. “I can see by the way you look at her that Andi never stood a chance.”

“I'm not looking at her in any special way,” I said, a wry grin touching my lips. “Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“Because we can see your face and you can't,” she said. “Trust me when I say, the look is there. And I get it. She's gorgeous. Intelligent. Well spoken. Passionate. She seems like the whole package.”

I couldn't argue with her there. Madison really did seem like the whole package. And then I wanted to kick my own ass for even thinking that. Given our history, the last thing I wanted or needed was to let myself get attached to her. Fool me once, and all that jazz.

“I just want to know why you never mentioned her before?” Cassie asked.

I shrugged. “I— I don't really know,” I say. “I guess I play some things close to the vest.”

“Obviously,” she laughed and slapped me in the chest.

I didn't know why I didn't just confess and tell her there was nothing to tell. That Madison was there with me strictly to act as a buffer between Andi and me – one I was really glad I had.

“Well, I'm glad you brought her. Glad I got to know her a little bit,” Cassie says. “She seems like a really great catch.”

I smiled and squeezed her hand, not saying anything because I didn't want to flat out lie to her.

“Though, what she's doing with somebody like you is a mystery,” Cassie said and laughed again. “Talk about dating up, my friend.”

I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

We made our way back into the dining room and Madison and I said our goodnights. Andi wouldn't even look at or acknowledge us as we left. She just sat at the table, looking at her hands in her lap. Clearly pouting. Cassie just shrugged her shoulders and poured another glass of wine, fortifying herself for the emotional onslaught that was sure to hit her the moment we walked out the door.

The ride back was a little quiet, neither Madison nor I knowing what to say, an awkward silence filling up the air between us once more. I kept thinking back to what both Jimmy and Cassie had said about the way I looked at her. Was there something to it? Was there something I wasn't seeing?

I couldn't deny that, physically speaking, I was very attracted to Madison. Who wouldn't be? But beyond that, I really didn't know. I wasn't in a place where I was looking for any kind of a relationship or emotional entanglement. That just wasn't where my head was at. At least, I didn't think it was.

Though I continued to deny it to myself, the voices of Jimmy and Cassie kept banging around in my skull.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway, thanks for coming tonight,” I said. “I appreciate you running interference for me with Andi.”

Madison laughed, her smile lighting up the cab of my truck. Her smile was warm and genuine and made the air between us feel lighter again. Less awkward.

“She doesn't really seem like your type,” she said.

“No?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at her. “What's my type then?”

Madison shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know specifically,” she said. “But I know what isn't your type. And Andi isn't your type.”

“Yeah, she seemed a little too—”

“Uptight?” she said. “Angry? Takes herself way too seriously? Has a really nasty and overinflated sense of self-importance? Has an ego that can fill up a stadium—”

“Wow,” I said and laughed. “Don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”

A small smile touched her lips. “Yeah, sorry,” she said. “I usually don't deal well with people like her.”

“Well, for whatever it's worth,” I said, “you handled yourself very well.”

“Well, thank you.”

We rode in a companionable silence for a few moments. I had to admit, I felt comfortable around Madison. More comfortable than I'd been around a woman in a long, long time. She was easy to talk to. Funny. Sharp. Clever. I felt like I could have a conversation about the most serious of topics, and then downshift into something goofy and wildly inappropriate without missing a beat.

I had no idea though, what I was going to do with it or the maelstrom of thought and feeling that swirled around inside of me because of her. After a moment, I thought it best to stuff it down and ignore it for a while. At least, until I was able to sort through it all and figure out what the hell was going on in my own damn head.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “How's that hotel working out for you?”

She grinned at me. “It's fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “That tone of voice makes me think it's not actually fine.”

She sighed and shook her head, a rueful grin upon her lips. “If you want the truth, it's uncomfortable,” she said and laughed. “I've never slept on a lumpier mattress in my life. It sucks.”

I shrugged. “Should have taken me up on my offer.”

She grinned. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Maybe so.”

I parked the car in the lot and jumped out. I moved quickly around to the other side of the truck and opened the door, helping her out.

“Such a gentleman,” she said.

“That's me.”

I pulled my jacket tighter around my body and walked her to the front door of the hotel. She might have declined my offer to protect her at my place, but I'd be damned if I wouldn't see her to her room safely. It seemed like the right thing to do.

I held the door open for her and escorted her through the lobby. I stopped at the bank of elevators and push the button to call for a car. I turned to her and smiled.

“Home safe and sound,” I said.

“Looks that way.”

As the doors to the elevator slid open, we were standing face to face, our eyes locked and the air around us infused with something – almost an air of expectation.

An expectation of what though, I had no idea.

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

MADISON

 

“I'd ask if you'd like to stay for a drink, but the mini bar is kind of lacking,” I laughed.

I stood in the doorway, with it open and Oliver standing outside, still not entirely sure how we'd gotten there. We'd been standing face to face at the elevators downstairs and then somehow, as if we had some unspoken agreement – or more like, we were both moving through some sort of hypnotic trance – we'd both gotten into the car and taken it up to my floor. And now, there we were. At my room.

My pulse was racing and my heart hammering in my chest, both terrified and exhilarated at the same time. Part of me wanted to ask him to come inside, to join me for – well, I don't know. For something that probably wasn't a drink – a thought that sent twin currents of fear and excitement shooting through my veins.

Oliver stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground, his face awash in thought and emotion. It seemed clear to me, though, that he also didn't seem to want to leave. With his hands still in his pockets, he leaned forward, leaned into me. I almost thought he was moving in for a kiss, so I closed my eyes and leaned toward him only to feel his lips pressed against my cheek instead.

I opened my eyes as he pulled away and my face fell. My cheeks burned with embarrassment and, I'm sure, were turning a shade of red not normally found in nature. I wasn't sure how I'd been so wrong and felt kind of stupid about it. I really didn't want the night to end though. After everything I'd been through, it was nice to have some fun with somebody I was enjoying spending time with.

“You know, I'm sure we could raid the mini bar,” I said, turning and glancing at the mini fridge. “I think they had some beers in there, at least. Might not be the best drinks ever, but it would at least wet your whistle.”

“Hey, I'm always up for a beer,” he said, a smile spreading across his face that showcased those adorable dimples of his.

I stepped aside and with a sweep of my hand, invited him into my suite. While it was nice, it certainly wasn't home. The place felt foreign and uncomfortable to me – and the mattress really was every bit as bad as I said it was. It had a living room area with the mini bar and an alcove with the bedroom. There was a large flat panel TV hung up above a faux-fireplace, but the last thing I wanted to think about was fire.

It was a decent room, but I just wanted to go back to my place. My home. I wanted to be among my things, where I was comfortable and at peace.

We walked through the living room and sat down on the sofa facing the television. Burgundy curtains surrounded the windows, covering them and keeping anyone from seeing inside. I'd made sure to pick a place with only interior entrances. It made me feel safer, even though anyone could probably come up the elevator and knock. It was more or less an illusion of security but it at least gave me some semblance of protection and comfort. That was something, I supposed.

“Nice room,” he said.

“It's not my room, though,” I said, leaning back against the couch.

My dress rode up and showed off a little knee and I caught Oliver staring down at it, briefly. He turned away quickly, looking everywhere but at me.

“No,” he murmured. “But at least you're safe here.”

“Tell me something – why do you care so much about my safety?” I asked. “After what I did to you back in high school, I'd—”

“You were just a kid,” he said. “Hell, so was I. Like we had any clue about the world or anything. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I asked you out. I—”

Without giving myself time to think – or back out of it – I quickly leaned forward before he could finish his thought, and pressed my lips to his. Years ago, we'd kissed, and I remembered his lips were softer than any boy I'd ever kissed before. Even all these years later, all grown up, and with his hands roughed up from hard work, his lips remained soft and gentle.

I pulled back and blushed, quickly averting my gaze. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that.”

“Why did you do that then?”

I blinked and looked up at him. His blue eyes were striking, even in the dim light of the hotel room. His hand, rough and calloused, stroked my cheek and I found myself answering without even meaning to. It was like he'd cast some magic spell that compelled me to answer him.

“Because I wanted to,” I said softly. “Honestly, I wanted to kiss you so many times since you walked into the hospital room to see me. But, the fear of what happened between us stopped me every single time.”

Oliver looked at me for a long moment, a thoughtful, perhaps even nostalgic, look on his face.

“Why did you disappear on me back then, Madison?” he asked, his voice quiet.

The question made me blush and dredge up all the guilt I'd been harboring for so long. But I smiled because I knew that, after all these years, I could finally make amends for the wrongs I'd done to him. For leaving him high and dry. Oliver didn't deserve what I'd done. I knew that then and I knew it now. I'd been an asshole, plain and simple.

We'd gone to the same high school, we were in some of the same classes, but I'd just ghosted him in the worst way possible. I stopped talking to him. Stopped even acknowledging him in the halls. I pretended I didn't see him, always looked right through him like he wasn't even there.

The only solace he could take – even though he didn't know it – was that doing that, treating him that way killed me. I wasn't that kind of a person. At least, I never thought I was. After ghosting Oliver like I had, I started to change my mind about that. Started to change how I saw myself.

“I'd like to say because my father made me, but that would be a lie,” I said. “Because God knows, I never listened to my father.”

He cocked his head again, those deep blue eyes searching mine. “Then, what was it? Was it something I did? Didn't do?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. Definitely not. It had nothing to do with you, quite honestly. It was all me. I know that sounds like a terrible cliché—”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, it really does.”

The smile on my face felt wooden, so I let it fall. “It's just— I saw what happened to Katrina,” I said. “She fell in love with the first boy she dated. She didn't go to college, even though she'd been accepted to several really great schools. But, she couldn't bear to leave her boyfriend behind. She made some really poor decisions about her life. Because of a boy.”

His fingers moved to my hair, stroking it gently away from my face as he listened to me confess my sins. Yet, he didn't look at me like he was judging me. Condemning me. It surprised me because he actually looked like he understood where I was coming from. Or, maybe I was just hoping he understood and was projecting that onto him.

“I just— I didn't want that for myself,” I said. “I had dreams, you know? Ambitions. Things I wanted to do and experience in my life. I needed to get out of Chicago to make it all happen and I couldn't let a boy – any boy – get in the way of that. I hate that it was you though, who was mixed up with me back then. You, unfortunately, got caught up in a perfect storm of my father, my own head, and my selfish desires.”

“You weren't selfish. You were a smart girl, Madison. Still are a smart girl. I knew you had dreams and ambitions,” he said. “I would never have stood in the way of those. I would never have asked you to stay—”

“You wouldn't have had to ask me, Oliver,” I said, biting my lip. “I knew if I fell in love with you, I'd never leave Chicago. And Penn State was calling my name.”

“Like I said before – the past is the past,” he said.

His voice was soothing and gentle, and he actually sounded like he meant what he was saying. He leaned close and pressed those lips to mine again, making my pulse race. It was a sweet kiss and, when he pulled back, I felt myself drowning in those bottomless blue eyes.

“And all that matters,” he said, “is the here and now.”

“So, you forgive me?” I whispered, my lips brushing his.

“There's nothing to forgive,” he said.

Not even his absolution could wash away all my guilt, but it certainly helped. The next thing I knew, Oliver's hands were in my hair, pulling my face into his. Our lips were meshed together, our tongues moving in and out of each other's mouths. As my hands explored the hard, toned body beneath his clothes, my body started to ache for him.

The sweet, emotional, and thoughtful Oliver I was getting to know suddenly turned into someone else entirely. Once we kissed, it was like he knew what he wanted, and he was going after it with everything in him – and I felt my body responding to his every touch. His every kiss. His every movement.

Pressing me down against the sofa, he hovered above me, kissing my mouth, then my neck, his lips moving slowly and deliberately down to the neckline of my dress. His erection, so thick and so long, pressed into me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me.

“Yes, yes,” I muttered, my eyes fluttering open and shut as Oliver covered me with kisses.

My hands kneaded at his back as he reached for the hem of my dress, lifting it up. I shuddered at the feel of his hands moving up my thighs, feeling the warmth and wetness blossoming between my legs. Oliver slid my dress all the way up my body and smoothly slipped it up and over my head.

He fumbled only a tiny bit with my bra but was much better than he'd been at unhooking them back in high school, that was for sure. Not that we ever actually went very far – I was a good girl back then. But, I had let him grope me. That night was when I realized if I didn't want to be like my sister, I needed to put a stop to things.

I didn't want a baby right out of high school, or a marriage to a man I didn't love. I knew statistics well enough to know that if we'd gotten together, if we'd gotten pregnant, our marriage wouldn't last. Just like my sister's hadn't. She'd wasted almost a decade of her life with a man she didn't really even know. She'd given up her dream of becoming a doctor in favor of a high school love that went nowhere.

I loved my niece more than anything in the world. She was a light of joy in my life. But, I didn't want that to be me. I'd never wanted to give up my dreams or lose my sense of self and purpose to a man I wasn't sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

Now though, I was older and, more importantly, on the pill. Mistakes in love, now that I was older and wiser, wouldn't ruin my whole life. They were merely a setback. An emotional kick in the gut. One I could recover and move on from in short order – not like having a child with a man I'd come to despise.

Oliver stared down at me, his eyes sliding up and down my body, an expression of absolute hunger and desire on his face as he squeezed and kneaded my tits.

“You've seen mine,” I teased. “Now show me yours.”

I reached for his buckle, but he grabbed my hands and stopped me. I stared up at him, hurt and confused. Did he not want this too? Did he not want to sleep with me after all? Was he afraid of me hurting him all over again? I didn't know why he'd stopped me when every nerve ending in my body was crying out for him.

Hell, I didn't blame him if he was having second thoughts about being with me. After all, I didn’t think either of us were looking for a relationship.

The rejection still stung though.

He held onto my hands for a long time, looking deeply into my eyes, as if he were trying to decide what the next move would be. In my head, I begged for him to take off his pants, to fuck me. To make me – to make both of us – feel good. But, that was purely selfish on my part. If he wanted to step back and not take it to that level, I had to respect that. I didn't necessarily like it, but I would respect it.

Oliver still held my hands and he pressed them over my head, pinning them down on the couch as he lay down flat on top of me. His tongue darted into my mouth, stealing my breath away. I gasped as he kissed me harder and with more fire and passion than I'd ever expected from him.

I writhed against him, begging with my body for him to fuck me. To fill me up. He held my hands up above my head and pressed himself into me. I so badly wanted to strip him down, to rip his clothes off and fuck him like I'd wanted to do all those years ago.

“Please—” I muttered against his lips. “Please, Oliver. Please.”

He stared into my eyes and the look almost scared me. Almost. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes serious as he stared back at me. At first, I thought the look was cold. Detached. But then, I started to see it differently and realized that what I was really seeing in his eyes was fear. Fear of what, though?

“I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship, Madison,” he said.

“Good. Me neither.” I arched my back upward, rubbing my crotch against his. “I just want something good after all the hell I've been through. I need to feel alive, Oliver.”

“Me too,” he whispered.

His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, and I was afraid I hadn't heard him right. What sort of hell had he been through? What was he running from? Hiding from?

I didn't get a chance to ask, though, because he took my nipple between his lips and sucked, gently. My body spasmed and I groaned, the sensation traveling through my entire body, shooting straight down to my groin. I felt myself growing wetter, my pussy begging to be filled with something long, thick and hard – the very thing that hovered mere inches from my opening.

No, not just anything – but him. I needed him inside of me. I needed to know what his cock felt like since I'd gone away to college always wondering, never knowing what he felt like. It was one of the many regrets I'd carried with me all these years. A regret I was seriously hoping I'd be able to unburden myself of.

Oliver let go of my hands, and right away, I reached for his belt. I fumbled, breathing hard as I struggled to remove it. Oliver's steady hands helped guide the way and, when it was off, we both tossed it aside. Together, we unzipped his pants, and I finally slipped my hand down into them and took hold of the big, hard prize I'd wanted for so damn long.

My eyes grew wide as I held him in my hand. He was a big man, all around. I shouldn't have been surprised by what he had hidden in his pants. It was thick and long, and already seeping with pre-cum.

I knew it would feel glorious inside of me, filling me up and stretching me open. My heart stuttered in my chest as an electric surge of anticipation coursed through my body.

I stroked his cock, and Oliver tossed his head back, his eyes closed and jaw clenched. He muttered something under his breath as he stripped his pants down all the way, exposing himself for me to see as well as feel.

“God, you're so sexy,” I said without even realizing I'd spoken.

His six-pack glistened with sweat and, when he lifted his shirt off and over his head and tossed it to the side, I was treated to the sight of his toned chest. It was all hard angles and planes and was covered in tattoos, which surprised me. They were all dark in color, intricately designed, and all seemed to carry some hidden meaning. My eyes specifically fell on one – half a heart. I looked at it, wondering if the other half was missing, its edges ridged and broken. The symbolism seemed clear to me, but I wondered who he'd had in mind when he'd had it branded onto his flesh.

Oliver looked down at me as if waiting for me to ask about it, his body tensed up and his eyes already glazed over as he prepared himself.

None of my business, I told myself. I reached lower, grasping his cock in my hands again, tightening my grip around that thick shaft and stroked him. Nothing else mattered at that moment. It was just him and me. No one else. No exes. No arsonists. No one would stand in the way of either of us getting what we wanted now.

I pushed upward, rubbing myself against him, my body inviting him to plunge that deliciously thick cock inside of me, but he stopped me. He looked down at me in a way no man had ever looked at me before. His eyes glowed with desire, but his face was etched with admiration as he drank me in. The way Oliver looked at me made me feel like an exquisite work of art. Like the most beautiful woman in the world. That only served to get me hotter and wetter. I wanted him. Needed him.

“You're so beautiful,” he said. “I just want to stare at you for a while.”

My cheeks flushed red, the heat burning bright, and suddenly, I became very aware of my naked body. I worked out and thought I kept in pretty good shape but, like most other woman on the planet, I was painfully aware of all of my flaws and faults.

My breasts, while not small, weren't as large as I'd like them to be, nor as rounded or perky. My stomach seemed to pooch out, even when lying down, no matter how many crunches I did. Yet, Oliver looked at me like I was a goddess. Like I was the only woman in the world worth looking at.

It was then that he took hold of his erection and guided it to my opening. Spreading myself wider, I took the tip of him inside of my dripping wet pussy. With one hard thrust, he plunged that glorious prick into me, making me cry out. He filled me up, stretched me open, and made me nearly scream out his name as he buried himself deep inside of me.

Our bodies were united, as one, and, still, he stared down at me. His eyes drank me in, as if he were trying to quench an insatiable thirst. As he admired my body, I let my hands move over that perfectly toned and sculpted body of his. Slowly, he started to rock back and forth, moving himself inside me. Oliver grabbed onto my hips and adjusted my position, plunging himself even deeper into me, making me spasm with pleasure so intense, it had my entire body tingling.

Oliver took my hands again and held them over my head, pinning them to the arm of the couch behind me. With an animalistic growl, he thrust himself inside of me, driving that beautiful cock deep into me. My legs spread wider, taking as much of him inside me as I could. His chest was pressed against mine, as were his lips. You couldn't see where Oliver ended and I began. We were as one, moving in unison, our bodies humming with ecstasy.

My body rose to meet his thrusts, wanting every inch of him inside of me. Oliver's breathing was fast and ragged, beads of sweat dotting his forehead as he kept a steady, hard rhythm, pounding his cock into me.

A low growl rumbled through his entire body and I feared he was on the verge of coming, feared it would be all over before it even began. Oliver had other plans, though.

He pulled back, yanking my hands and pulling me upward with him as well. Oliver pulled me off the couch like I weighed nothing at all. I got to my feet and followed him because I wanted to finish what we'd started. Didn't want it to end until we were both satisfied. Oliver looked around the hotel room, a slight frown creasing his lips. He looked at the couch and gave a small shrug of his shoulders, as if he had settled some inner debate.

“Bend over,” he commanded. “I want to see your ass in the air.”

He pointed to the couch and I quickly did as he said, bending over the arm of the sofa so that my ass was, indeed, in the air. Just like he wanted. Just as he'd commanded. Oliver moved forward and I pressed myself backward, moving myself against his erection. I wiggled my ass as his cock slid against my bare flesh. Teasing him. Tempting him. Taunting him.

Instead of going straight for the prize though, he slipped down between the folds of my thighs and rubbed against me, his erection sliding against my clit, teasing it. Seemed as if he was going to give me as good as he was getting.

Bolts of electricity shooting through my veins, my head fell forward and I clenched my eyes shut. Ripples of pleasure coursed through me as I held onto the couch, my nails digging into the fabric so hard, I was half afraid I was going to leave long claw marks.

“Please, Oliver,” I begged through gritted teeth.

He grabbed my ass and I felt the head of his cock press against my warm, wet opening for only a second before he slid into place. I was dripping wet, which eased the way in for him, so he was sheathed comfortably amongst the warm folds of my flesh. I gripped the couch even harder, bracing myself for the spasms that rippled through my body.

Oliver didn't start out slow this time though. No, he pounded his cock into me, fucking me with brute, savage force. He pumped that stiff rod in and out of my tight little hole with precision and strength. He lifted my legs up off the floor, holding onto them, holding me in place and keeping me steady as he continued pounding himself into me with a power and force that was slightly painful but mixed with the incredible pleasure, making for a heady fucking feeling. My body quivered and tingled, and I knew it wasn't going to be long before I exploded in an earth-shattering orgasm.

The sounds coming from him as he drove himself into me were so fucking sexy. I felt a warmth take over my insides, a tightness building low in my body. My body was flooded with that familiar feeling of the impending explosion as every muscle in my body tightened up.

I threw my head back and cried out, “Oliver, yes! Yes!”

He gripped my body hard and drove himself deeper inside of me, hitting just the right spot to send me over the edge.

I bit down on a pillow, trying to drown out the screams erupting from my throat as pure ecstasy washed over me. Oliver's animalistic groans grew louder and louder, as his thrusts went harder and deeper into me. He moved with a frantic desperation that only came right before he'd lose control. This time, I was ready for him.

I squeezed the muscles in my pussy tight around him, my body exploding with pleasure as he thrust into me one, last time. The noises that came from him were intoxicating. Our moans blended together as one, as we came together, spasming and shuddering until every last drop of his seed was spilling inside of me.

“That was amazing,” I muttered, speaking into the pillow. “Remind me again why it took me almost ten years to finally experience that?”

Oliver chuckled, a deep masculine sound, as he pulled his deflated dick out of me. He steadied my legs and helped me to stand up, pulling me into his arms. His arms encircled my waist and he held me to him, close and tight. The warmth of the moment washed over me and I felt safe. Secure. Treasured.

He kissed me on the forehead and looked down at me through eyes that were dazed and half asleep. I knew we were both exhausted and there was no way I wanted him to drive home in his current blissed-out condition. The last thing I wanted was for him to fall asleep at the wheel and drive into a ditch because he was so tired and relaxed. Taking his hand, I silently led him to my bed.

“You're staying here tonight,” I said.

“Oh, am I?” he raised an eyebrow. “And what if I say I'm not?”

With my hands on my hips, I shot him a withering look and said, “Don't start with me. Not tonight.”

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

“You know, you're the only person I've met more stubborn than me,” Oliver said as we curled up in the king-sized bed together, our bodies intertwined.

Oliver kissed my forehead and looked into my eyes. In his gaze, I saw a sense of contentment and satisfaction I'd never seen from him before. I'd almost be willing to say that he looked – happy.

The room around us was eerily quiet, which I found a little unsettling. I usually slept with a TV or a fan on. I usually needed background noise to sleep but I wasn't sure how Oliver felt about such things. I figured I could go a night without white noise, especially since I'd be falling asleep to the sound of his breathing.

I turned my head and stared into those deep, blue eyes of his.

“I highly doubt I'm more stubborn than you,” I teased. “I can't get you to answer a few simple questions.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“Like why you're so damned interested in protecting me, for starters,” I said. “And, also, while I'm at it, why you're so interested in finding out who did this to me.”

He shrugged and there was a darkness that descended over his eyes for a moment. I assumed he was just going to change the subject on me. Again. I was learning that Oliver was nothing if not a master at deflection and misdirection.

“Honestly, because I lost someone very important to me. Someone I couldn't save,” he said quietly. “My girlfriend, Lauren. She's been dead a year now.”

I sat up and stared at him, eyes wide with shock. “Jesus Christ, Oliver, I'm sorry,” I said. “I shouldn't have pried. Shouldn't have pushed you to—”

“It's okay. Honestly, it's about time I talked to someone about it,” he said. “Besides the guys at work, anyway. At least, now you know.”

The pain in his eyes was palpable, and I wanted to take that pain away more than anything I'd ever wanted in my entire life. Then a thought hit me – a memory, actually. I looked at him, a million thoughts firing through my head, but some of the puzzle pieces starting to fall into place.

“Lauren Hughes?” I asked.

Oliver hesitated but then nodded. “Yes, that was her name,” he said. “Why do you ask? And how did you know her?”

“Because that name rings a bell,” I said. “I didn't know her. I just know her name for some reason.”

I closed my eyes and repeated the name to myself repeatedly until it hit me. And when it did, it felt like the proverbial ton of bricks. Lauren had been one of the people I'd been looking into. Suspected arson, possible homicide. The police never ruled it out, but they never said for sure.

I looked at Oliver's face and knew it was not the right time to talk about this. As a firefighter, and her boyfriend, it was all stuff he probably knew already. I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes.

“I probably read about her in the newspaper,” I said, which was not exactly a lie. “I'm so, so sorry for your loss, Ollie.”

Stroking his chest, I listened to the beating of his heart. We lay there, in silence, until my eyes grew too heavy to fight off sleep any longer. I drifted off, warm and cozy next to Oliver, reveling in the fact that I felt safer than I had in days – if not longer.

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

OLIVER

 

It probably went without saying that Madison had heard about Lauren. Probably came across her name while she was working on her show. Maybe she couldn't recall, but more than likely, her name was one listed in the notebooks she kept on her cases. Some of which had apparently gone missing.

I assumed that, given her injuries and the trauma she'd endured, her memory was still pretty sketchy about a lot of things. But, it seemed to be coming back in blips and blurbs. I didn't want to press the issue with her right then though. We were both exhausted and there didn't seem to be a point in rehashing it all tonight, at least. I figured it would be more productive if I tried to jog her memory tomorrow. After we'd both gotten some rest and were mentally all there again.

Her breathing grew steady and relaxed as I stroked her hair and she flirted with the edge of sleep. Years ago, I'd have loved nothing more than to fuck her like I just had. Now that I had, though, I found myself wondering if it had been a good idea. Yes, it had been a year since I'd lost Lauren, but my feelings were still all over the place. Even more alarming to me was the fact that as I lay there next to her, stroking her hair, and listening to her gentle breathing, I found myself falling for this woman all over again.

Which was the last thing I needed.

Her head grew heavier against my chest and her breathing became steadier as she drifted off to sleep. I was used to having some sort of white noise to help me sleep. Lacking my usual gadgets, I focused on her breathing to keep myself from heading into the abyss of darkness and despair that often came when I closed my eyes.

However, having her next to me, feeling her body pressed to mine, made it easier. Made it a lot easier, actually. I closed my eyes, feeling a profound sense of peace and almost immediately felt myself drifting off when a sound disrupted my restfulness. I couldn't place it, though, so I waited. My eyes snapped open and, looking around, I held my breath, waiting for the noise to repeat itself.

When I heard nothing else, I figured that I was being paranoid. Figured that it was a noise natural enough to a hotel and I just wasn't used to it. I usually didn't sleep well outside of my own home – for reasons just like that. Every noise became sinister, and danger lurked in every shadow. It was a stupid fear I'd had as a kid and one that followed me, to a lesser extent, to adulthood. I let out a breath and allowed myself to start to drift off again.

And then I heard it again.

I opened my eyes wide and looked around the room. Slowly, I started to get up, gently moving Madison's head onto the pillow next to me so I could sit up.

Her eyes still closed, her voice thick with sleep, she mumbled, “What's wrong?”

I pressed my fingers to her mouth to silence her, which made her eyes grow wide and an expression of alarm cross her face as she came fully awake. There was a look of fear in her eyes that couldn't be missed and her body began to tremble as she seemed instinctively to know the potential danger we were in.

The noise sounded once more, and we both heard it that time. It took me a minute to figure out what it was and then it hit me – the doorknob was rattling. Someone was trying to get into Madison's room. She clung to me, her body shaking, and terror etched onto her beautiful face. Thankfully though, she bit her bottom lip and remained quiet.

Madison looked up at me, her eyes wide and scared, and I knew I had to do something. Anything. It was my duty to protect her and I was going to goddamn do that. I was not about to let anybody hurt her. I took a deep, steadying breath as I sat there in the darkness, listening to the doorknob rattle.

I tried to calm myself, tried to clear my head. Maybe I was freaking out over nothing – a misunderstanding, perhaps. Maybe it was a drunk guest at the wrong room. That happened more often than you'd think. Or, it could be something more sinister. Something more dangerous.

I slipped from the bed quietly, Madison gripping my arm. I had to slide loose from her grip, which wasn't easy. She fought to keep her grip on me, begging with her large, scared eyes to stay with her. To not leave her. Someone had to see what was going on, though.

“I'm just going to check this out,” I whispered into her ear. “Go into the bathroom and lock the door behind you.”

“I'm scared,” she whispered back.

“It's probably just some drunk,” I said. “Doesn't realize it's the wrong room.”

“Could be somebody here to kill me.”

I turned toward the doorway as the sound of the knob clicking caught my attention. There was a loud ping and a click – it sounded like someone had broken the knob. My gaze flew toward the deadbolt at the top of the door and my eyes widened slightly when I saw it wasn't locked. Dammit. How could I have been so careless? How could I have let my guard down that much? With so much at stake?

Now wasn't the time for self-recriminations. I'd have time for that later. Right now, I had only a second to get to the door before it opened. If the person on the other side of the door happened to have a gun or some other sort of weapon, things were about to get hairy.

Not having a weapon handy, I leaned forward and pressed my weight against the door, trying to keep it closed long enough so I could flip the deadbolt before the intruder got through. Luck was not on my side, as the knob turned before I could engage the deadbolt. Leaning against the door, I felt the person outside tried to push it open.

Instead of it opening, however, he felt my weight against the other side of the door. He pushed harder, but I held my ground. The door opened a crack and I stared out at him, only seeing a pair of brown eyes peeking out at me from behind a scarf. His head was covered with a hoodie, so all I saw were his eyes – and he saw mine. The intruder's eyes widened with surprise, but then narrowed with anger a moment later. Clearly, I'd spoiled his plans for the evening.

“Not who you were expecting, huh?” I growled.

The man turned and took off down the hall. I grabbed my boxers and shouted to Madison, “Call 9-1-1. I'll be back. Lock the deadbolt on the door and—”

“No, stay here,” she said, emerging from the bathroom and grabbing onto me. “It's not safe. Don't leave me here alone, Oliver. Please, I'm begging you.”

“The cops won't get here in time,” I said. “I have to.”

I pulled away from her and rushed into the hallway, looking around and seeing nothing. I growled and ran to the bank of elevators and slapped the buttons, cursing when I saw that the car was on the first floor. We were on the twelfth. Fuck. No time.

The stairwell was nearby and I ran to the door, flinging it open as I rushed into it. When the crash of the door hitting the wall behind it echoed away into nothing, I was plunged into utter silence. No footsteps. Nothing. My guy was clearly not in the stairwell.

I stood there for a moment, cursing under my breath when I realized I'd left Madison alone. Even with the deadbolt on the door engaged, she was exposed. I had a choice to make. Continue on, hoping to catch the guy, or risk more harm coming to Madison because I'd left her alone and unprotected.

It wasn't really a difficult choice to make. I turned and hurried back through the door to the stairwell and down to Madison's room. I banged on the door, calling her name, letting her know it was me. Madison quickly unbolted the door for me, throwing her body against mine, wrapping me up in a tight hug the moment I stepped through the doorway.

I held her in my arms for several long moments, feeling her body shudder as she cried on my shoulder. She was five foot six, but at that moment, she felt so tiny and small. So fragile and delicate. Stroking her hair, I kept whispering into her ear, trying to calm her down.

“You're okay, Madison,” I said prematurely. You're okay.”

“He knew I was here,” she sobbed. “He found me. He can find me anywhere. How in the hell could he have known I was here, Oliver?”

“I don't know. But I'm not going to leave you,” I said, holding her sweet, tear-stained face in my hands and forcing her to look at me. “No one is going to hurt you as long as I'm alive. Got it? No one.”

She nodded, so much trust in her sweet eyes. She believed me. She trusted me.

Just like Lauren had.

Seeing that trust sent a ripple of fear through my gut and sent a spike of fear lancing through my heart. I feared that I wouldn't be able to keep my promise. That I'd fail her like I'd failed Lauren.

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

“Did you see the person?” Officer Fellows asked, yawning as he took notes.

“Just his eyes,” I said. “His face and head were covered with a big scarf. But he had brown eyes.”

“That doesn't give us a whole lot. But maybe the security cameras caught something we can use,” he said, turning his large body around to face me. “Do you have any idea why these people are after you, Madison?”

Madison nodded but said nothing. I couldn't help but notice her skin was paler than normal, and her body still trembled. With lips that quivered and dark circles under her eyes, she looked utterly exhausted. Wrung out. Emotionally spent. I wanted to tell everyone to leave, to let her get some rest, but I knew they were just doing their job. Knew they were trying to help. I also knew they were likely the only hope we had of catching this guy.

“Could you explain that, Madison?” Fellows pressed. “You said you knew why they're after you.”

Madison nodded again, her tired eyes shifting from me to Fellows. “I was looking into some suspected arson cases on my podcast recently,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “I have to believe the fact that I'm opening up some old cases struck a nerve with somebody.”

Fellows raised an eyebrow, the look of skepticism on his face open and obvious. He didn't strike me as the kind of man who listened to podcasts or knew much about the power of social media these days. The reach somebody with a popular podcast had, the many thousands if not millions of people who listened. The sort of influence they could have. Especially when they got the sort of results Madison had by doing the work she was doing.

I had no doubt the man who'd tried to kill her had heard her show. What else could it be? There didn't seem to be any other logical, rational reason for somebody to tie her up and leave her in a burning building – right after she'd talked about re-opening some of those old cases.

“Struck a nerve?” Fellows asked. “How so?”

She looked at me, and I answered for her. “We believe she got too close.”

I put an arm around Madison's shoulder and held her close to my body. She was still trembling, but with my arm around her, she seemed to settle down slightly – and only for a moment. I couldn't blame her for being scared. Terrified. Any normal, sane person would be, given what she'd been forced to endure.

“Too close?” Fellowes asked. “Like finding out who it was behind the arsons?”

“Yes.” Madison's voice was shaky as she answered.

“Mind sharing some of your information with us, Ms. Haywood?” Fellows asked. “Anything that might be able to help us figure this out.”

“I— umm, well, I can't,” she stammered. “It's gone. My memory is still gone, for the most part. Everything's still spotty and I'm missing whole sections of my memories. I'm trying to remember what I'd discovered though. I'm just not running at full capacity at the moment.”

“Is it possible,” Fellows asked, “that some bitter, angry ex-boyfriend is trying to hurt you?”

Madison shook her head quickly. “No, that's not possible.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“She just said she was sure,” I snapped. “Now, why don't you get to work trying to find out who's hunting her instead of creating some mysterious and bitter ex out of thin air?”

The cop shot me a look of irritation before turning back to Madison, his expression bordering on disbelief and hostility. He obviously didn't think this had anything to do with her podcast and, judging by the look in his eyes, he was probably inclined to believe it was some crazy ex-boyfriend behind it all.

“We'll take a look at the security cameras and get back to you.”

“That's it?” I stammered. “That's all you’re going to do for her?”

“We'll continue the surveillance outside the hotel as well, Mr. Miller—”

“Yeah, you guys did a real bang up job with that tonight,” I snapped, my insides boiling with rage. “Madison might have been killed if I hadn't been with her. Your surveillance team—”

“Well then, it was a very lucky thing were with her tonight, wasn't it?” the cop said, narrowing his eyes at me, his hostility becoming more obvious. “Might be a good idea to get another room – one without a broken doorknob.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

The cop and I stared each other down for a long moment before he sighed, shrugged and turned away from us. I watched him as he walked toward the door, and then through it, disappearing into the hallway beyond. If he thought I'd let Madison stay in this room – or any room at this hotel now – he was dead wrong. If they weren't going to lift a finger to help her, to keep her safe, then I guessed I’d have to. As soon as the cop left, I turned to her. Putting my hands on her shoulders, I looked her in the eye.

“Come on. Pack your stuff,” I said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You're coming to my place.”

“We can just—”

“Stop it,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I'm not in the mood to argue. It's settled. Done. You're staying with me until we figure out who is behind this and get his ass off the streets. Until this is over, I'm not letting you out of my sight. Not again.”

Madison opened her mouth to speak again but then closed it. Opting not to put up a fight. I think we were both too exhausted to fight about it. Or, she saw the reason in what I was saying. Either way, she gathered her things and followed me out of the hotel. The ride down in the elevator was silent, and there was a stiff, fear-fueled tension in the air as we walked out to my car.

The whole way, I never once took my arm off her, keeping her close to me as we hustled out of the hotel.

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

MADISON

 

We were both wrung out and emotionally spent by the time we got to Oliver's house. There was a spare bedroom – the one he'd offered me before. This time though, he insisted on me sleeping in the same room as him so he could keep an eye on me. After sharing a bed once, it was nothing to do it again, right?

He carried my bags into the master bedroom and dropped them into a chair near the window. Turning to look at me, he gave me a smile I could tell was forced. He was doing his best to project an air of confidence and self-assuredness. But, I could read people well enough that I could see the uncertainty and even the current of fear and concern that lurked just behind his eyes.

“You'll be staying here with me,” he said. “Bathroom is over there. Feel free to make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa, Madison.”

“Not that I don't appreciate it,” I said, “But for how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

His house was nice – a two bedroom, two bath townhome that was outfitted with a top-shelf security system that eased both of our minds. At least, a little bit. His place was a lot nicer than I thought it would be. It was a typical bachelor pad as far as furniture went, but it was clean. Tidy. I just found it odd that he – a single man – would have a two bedroom, two bath home all to himself.

“Why such a big place?” I asked him as we climbed into bed.

“I wanted a family one day,” he said matter-of-factly, as he pulled the soft down comforter over us. “Figured it would be a good starter home. Bought it when—”

His voice trailed off and he didn't finish his statement. I saw the shadowed, haunted, and pained look in his eyes as he started to close down on me. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know exactly where his mind was going.

“No, talk to me,” I said. “Don't shut down.”

I rested my head on my arm and looked out at the sullen, attractive man lying next to me.

“I don't want to keep babbling about my ex,” he said. “It feels wrong.”

“It's only wrong if you're not comfortable,” I said, stroking his cheek. “I won't pressure you to talk about it if you don't want to. Just know, you can always talk to me. I'll always listen.”

His smile was a little rueful, but the sullen mask that he'd put on was wiped away. At least for now. Oliver kissed my forehead, his lips soft upon my skin.

“Maybe another time,” he said. “We need to get some sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow, after all.”

“Oh yeah? Big day, huh?” I asked. “What do you have planned?”

“Trying to help you remember,” he said. “So, we can hopefully get your life back to normal.”

“It would be nice if people stopped trying to kill me,” I said. “But normal? Ha. My life has never been normal, Ollie.”

As much as I hated being stalked and hunted, part of me wondered what that would mean for Oliver and I. Or, at least, what it meant for us once this was all over.

While I hardly knew the man he'd grown up to be, I found that I connected with him just as easily as I had back then. Although a lot of years had passed, the ease and comfort we'd always had between us still remained. It was buried under years of rust and disuse, of course, but that had been easy enough to wipe away.

The attraction between us had always been there, intense and burning hot. Which was why I'd had to keep away from him back then. Why I'd forced myself to stop seeing him.

But that was then and this was now. Times had changed, we'd both grown up, and it made me wonder where this – thing – between us was headed.

If it was headed anywhere at all, or if it was just wishful thinking on my part.

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

I rolled over, savoring the feeling of the down comforter enveloping my body. I'd wrapped myself in the soft, warm comforter tight like a burrito, leaving no blanket for anyone else. As shafts of the sun slanted in through the blinds, I yawned and rolled over, finding Oliver's side of the bed empty. My eyes grew wide and my heart fluttered in my chest when I woke to find myself alone in his bed.

A moment later though, a familiar aroma caught my attention and made me smile, banishing all the fear and dark thoughts that had been injecting themselves into my brain.

The scent of bacon filled the air.

I glanced at the clock. It was just after seven in the morning. Still early, especially given how late we'd been up the night before. Oliver was already moving around downstairs though, and I worried I might have frozen him out of bed by being a blanket hog.

I reluctantly slipped from the warm, cozy bed and made my way downstairs, rubbing my eyes and yawning as I entered the kitchen. He looked up from the stove and smiled at me, the sight of it filling me with more warmth than even the down comforter had. I looked at the spread he was putting together and was impressed. Not only was there bacon fresh and ready to be eaten, there were biscuits and gravy too.

Even better, there was a strong aroma of a rich, dark brew coffee saturating the air. Yeah, a girl could get used to starting a day just like that.

“Morning, blanket hog,” Oliver said, a chuckle in his voice.

I cringed. “I'm sorry if I—”

He waved my concerns off. “It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway,” he said. “Figured I might as well get a start on the day. Sit, have some coffee. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“I never knew you were a morning person, Ollie,” I said. “Or a gourmet chef. Color me very pleasantly surprised.

He swiped his fork at my hand, a grin on his face, as I stole a piece a bacon and nibbled on it as I took a seat at his kitchen table.

“I'm not technically, but my schedule is all fucked up thanks to my job,” he said. “And I wouldn't call biscuits from a can, gravy from a pouch, and bacon from a package exactly gourmet.”

“It all smells heavenly to me,” I said.

He shrugged. “It'll fill the void and give us some pep,” he said, “because today, we have some work to do.”

I popped the last bit of bacon into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “You really think you can jog my memory?”

He shrugged. “It's worth a shot, isn't it?”

“Sure,” I said. “I mean, I guess so.”

He carried two large, heaped plates of food to the table and set one down in front of me, before taking a seat across from me and settling down with his plate. My stomach growled in response to the feast sitting before me. I was hungry, but I knew there was no way in hell I'd be able to finish all that food. Maybe three of me could eat it all, but even then, it wouldn't be easy. Oliver dove right in though, scooping in giant forkfuls of food into his mouth.

Lift. Insert. Chew. Lift. Insert Chew. Oliver was like a machine as he ate, and it was strangely hypnotic to watch.

It was also the difference between a man and a woman, I thought to myself with a laugh. I took a forkful of biscuit into my mouth and mumbled in appreciation. Coming from a can and a pouch or not, it still tasted pretty damned good. It would most definitely fill the void. Very nicely, actually.

“So, what are we going to do?” I asked, and then nibbled on another piece of bacon.

“I thought we'd start by staging a re-enactment of that night,” he said flatly. “I've seen shows where they take a person back to the place where they'd endured their greatest trauma. For you, that's, obviously, the warehouse. My hope is that having you sort of walk through it again may help loosen up some of those memories that are hiding in that big brain of yours.”

The idea of stepping foot near the warehouse – the place I'd almost been murdered – made me drop my fork. It hit the plate with a loud clatter and I looked down, my appetite vanishing as suddenly as a puff of smoke on the wind. My stomach felt as heavy as a brick and the mere idea of eating anymore made my insides turn.

“I can't go back there—”

“I'll be with you, Madison,” he said, reaching across and squeezing my hand. “It'll be okay. You have nothing to worry about. I promise you that.”

“I don't know, Ollie,” I say, my voice trembling. “I may not be ready for this.”

“If we get there and you're not up for it, we'll leave. Simple as that,” he said. “But nothing will happen to you, I swear. I just feel like putting you in that place again is going to jog some memories loose inside of you.”

His smile was warm and his face incredibly trustworthy. Despite the misgivings I so rightly had, I still found myself feeling better as I looked into his eyes. He was right. He'd be there. I wouldn't be alone. It would be okay.

“Okay,” I said after a few minutes. “As long as you'll be there. Let's do it.”

“That's my girl,” he said and returned to shoveling food into his mouth.

My girl, I thought to myself. It was an odd and interesting choice of words. Was there more meaning behind them in his mind? Was he actually staking a claim to me? Maybe subtly voicing his desire for this thing between us to grow once this crisis was in our rearview mirror? Or, was I simply projecting my own desires? Hoping that was the case?

I didn't know and didn't have time to explore all my thoughts and feelings on the matter at that moment in time. Because Oliver was right about one thing – we had a lot of work to do.

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

The first stop on our way out to the warehouse was my place. Which, in and of itself wasn't so scary. Not unless you were afraid of the enormous dust bunnies lurking in the corners and the mountains of laundry that needed doing.

No, my place wasn't scary on its own. But knowing these assholes were stalking me and could possibly be waiting in there, ready to pop out at me like some goddamn jack-in-the-box from hell, made me more than a little nervous.

But, I sucked it up. I had to. There was no other choice. I could either do this and confront whoever it was trying to kill me, take them head on, and put them down. Or, I could live in fear the rest of my life. Spend my days looking over my shoulder, watching and waiting for that other shoe to drop. Spend the rest of my life wondering when I was going to wake up in another burning building – and this time, with no Oliver there to save me.

No, I was sick of this bullshit and needed to put a stop to it. Needed to reclaim my life. I wasn't the sort of girl who hid from her troubles or liked to be intimidated. I was the sort of woman who took life by the horns and beat it into submission. Bent it to my will. This was going to be no goddamn different if I had anything to say about it.

We walked through my home, and Oliver asked me questions like, “Do you remember doing this before you left? Do you remember doing that before you left? Do you recall any sounds or smells that are unusual to your place?”

“Wow, you really watch those crime documentaries pretty closely,” I said and smirked at him.

“I also listen to a pretty good podcast on the subject,” he replied, flashing me a smile. “So, do you? Do you remember anything at all?”

I tried. I really tried to remember, but all I got back was nothingness. I reached into the darkness in the back of my mind, searching for the memories I knew were in there somewhere, but came up completely empty. My memories remained elusive, sitting just beyond my grasp. I could brush them with my fingertips, but couldn't grab hold of them and bring them back to the light.

“It's like the memories are there,” I said, “but they're just out of reach. Barely. I can sense them and can almost see them, but I can't quite bring them into focus. This is so goddamn frustrating.”

Oliver took my hand. “It's okay,” he said. “You're doing great. Just don't give up.”

We walked into my bedroom and I collapsed on my bed, lying on my back, and stared up at the ceiling. My familiar purple bedspread beneath me, soft, warm, and inviting. I rolled over and patted the bed next to me, encouraging Oliver to join me. He smiled, then plopped down beside me. I nestled my head on his chest, and he played with my hair.

It all felt so normal and comfortable to me. It felt so much like we were just a normal couple, like the countless millions out there, enjoying a quiet and intimate moment together, that I was almost able to forget about all of the madness and chaos that was upending my life right now. Almost.

I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me, and I felt like I could go back to sleep. I hadn't slept but a few hours the night before, and I was home. In my bed. With Ollie. That feeling of warmth, familiarity, and comfort radiating between our two bodies. Part of me wanted nothing more than to curl my body around his and sleep for the next three days.

But then his phone dinged, sounding the alarm that a new text message was coming in, and ruined the moment. But then, my eyes flew open as something wormed its way into my head. It carried a sense of something familiar – and yet, something entirely dark and foreboding. Something terrifying. Something that sent a wave of cold from my toes, all the way up to my nose.

I jumped up from the bed, my heart thundering in my chest, and my pulse racing off the charts. I looked around wildly, trying to find out what that noise had been and where it had come from. Intellectually, I knew it was Ollie's phone. It was a text message. I got a hundred of them a day.

Yet, on another level, it was something darker. More sinister. A sound that set off a primal, fight or flight response inside of me.

“Sorry, it's just Jimmy,” he said, putting his phone away. “He's ragging on me for taking my vacation time—”

He looked up at me, his words dying on his lips as he stared at me. I was staring at the wall. The sound. A text message. That was it. It was a text message. I scrambled from the bed and walked toward the door.

“Madison?” he asked, a note of worry in his voice. “What is it?”

“I remember now,” I said. “It wasn't night when I left the house. It was daytime. I was given an address to meet someone. Someone who said he had some information for me about the arson cases.”

“Who?”

“I didn't get a name,” I said. “But I made sure we met in a public place. A Starbucks down the street.”

“Let's go,” he said, grabbing my hand.

Before we made it out of my bedroom and into the living room though, the smell of gasoline hit me like a ton of bricks. The acrid stench of it was overwhelming. A wave of fear rolled through me upon smelling the gas, but it was nothing like the tsunami of terror that stole over me when I saw the smoke billowing out from the other room.

Oliver stepped in front of me, blocking my exit. At first, I wasn't sure why. Although, on some level, I knew what was happening, I was having trouble making the connections in my mind. The fear had gripped me so hard that it was distorting my sense of reality.

But then, I was able to cut through it, to focus on what was happening. And when I managed to get control of myself again, it dawned on me.

My living room was on fire.

 

CHAPTER NINE

OLIVER

 

No gear. No masks. No suit. Nothing to protect ourselves from the wide, red snakes of flame slithering across her living room floor. The smoke was already thick and made it impossible to see, but I'd heard a door slam somewhere in the house and, immediately, I knew what was happening to us.

Somebody had snuck inside, doused the place in gasoline, struck the match that set it ablaze, and ran out, trapping us inside. Ran away like a little bitch.

He was getting sloppy, I thought to myself. Sloppy and bold. But, none of that really mattered if we were dead. He seemed focused on one thing and one thing alone – killing Madison. We'd been operating under the assumption that he was nervous about her re-opening the old arson cases. And to me, that still seemed the most logical assumption to make.

But, I had to admit, it could just as easily be a crazed fan, a jealous ex, or maybe a guy whose love went unrequited and he'd developed an unhealthy obsession with her. She could be a target for a million different reasons.

I had no idea who he was, what his beef with her could be, or why he was so intent on murdering her – not with any certainty. But, my only goal was to make sure that didn't happen. That I protected her and kept her alive.

My phone was in my pocket, Jimmy's message still open. I hit call, knowing he wouldn't let me down. Putting the phone on speaker, I had Madison give the address when he answered as I rushed out into the living room. Madison screamed my name, terror punctuating her every word. I didn't have time to go back and soothe her. Couldn't afford to take the time to calm her down. I needed to act and I needed to act fast, so I called out to her as I ran from the room.

“Stay put,” I yelled. “I know what I'm doing.”

The kitchen was right by the living room – thank you, open floor plans. Water. We needed some water. I grabbed the spray nozzle, but it wasn't long enough to reach. Not only that, when I squeezed the trigger, I found that there wasn't even enough pressure to make a difference. Which meant, I needed buckets or something more powerful. I searched around the kitchen quickly, flinging open drawers and cabinets, looking for something to use to battle this blaze. But, I came up empty.

The smoke was growing thicker, the heat inside her place more intense. Flames licked at the doorway that led to the back of her house, burning bright and hot. We couldn't get out that way. I heard Madison's coughing growing louder, more insistent. For her, it had to be like re-living the night in the warehouse and I couldn't even begin to imagine the terror she had to be feeling.

We had to find a way out. Soon. If we didn't, we were both going to die. I looked toward the front door and saw that it was blocked by a solid curtain of flames that burned bright and angry. The smoke stung my eyes and was clouding my vision. I couldn't see a thing.

This was bad. And it was getting worse. If I didn't get Madison out of here soon, we were both going to succumb to the smoke, pass out, and ultimately die. I couldn't let it happen. Wouldn't let it happen.

Coughing and blinking back the tears that stung my eyes, I felt my way back along the wall toward the bedroom. I dashed inside and slammed the door. The room was already thick with smoke, but I wanted to keep any more from getting in. Plus, the door would provide a brief buffer from the flames that were crawling down the hallway like serpents from hell.

I found Madison crumpled on the floor underneath the window. I tried to lift it, only to find that it had been nailed shut. I banged on the window, hoping I could break it, but found that it wasn't glass. It was some sort of a double-paned plexiglass or something like they use around the tellers in banks.

In other words, it was unbreakable.

The mystery man had thought of everything. He'd turned Madison's home into a deathtrap. One I was beginning to doubt we were going to get out of. Lying on the ground at my feet, Madison coughed violently, tears cutting through the soot on her face. Dashing into the bathroom, I flipped on the water and ran a couple of washcloths beneath the faucet. When they were good and soaked, I took them back out to the bedroom.

I helped Madison to her feet and handed her one of the wet washcloths.

“Put this over your mouth,” I said. “It'll help filter out the smoke.”

“We're going to die here,” she replied, her voice cold and resigned. “He killed us.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped. “Put the fucking washcloth over your mouth. Now.”

She did as she was told, but I could see by the look in her eyes that she was on the verge of giving up already. We stood there, in the middle of her room, and I looked around, frantically looking for some way out of this fucked up mess. I wasn't willing to give up and I sure as hell wasn't going to let her.

The loud popping and cracking of wood echoed through the room as the fire continued its relentless march down the hallway. The paint on her door was beginning to bubble, telling me the flames were right outside. As if confirming my thought, a crack ruptured the door, thick as a thumb, running from the bottom of the frame, up to the doorknob. Tendrils of smoke poured through the crack along with the red and orange glow of the flames pressing to get through.

Then I heard the sirens outside. Jimmy and the crew must have broken the land speed record to get to her house, but the trucks were outside. A wave of relief, powerful and abiding, washed over me.

I imagined the buzz of activity going on outside the house as the crew geared up and started to battle the blaze. Hoses were run out of the pumpers and the crew was lining up. I knew that Jimmy and whoever he partnered with, would be coming through the door to find us as the rest of the team hit the house with the water and fire retardant.

“You're going to be fine,” I said to Madison. “We're going to be fine.”

The words were barely out of my mouth when a deep and ominous groan sounded overhead. The groan was followed by hard, loud cracks and pops. The fire was in the attic already and, given how dry they tended to be, was eating its way through the roof. It wasn't going to be long before the flames came bursting through as the whole ceiling came crashing down on us.

Which meant, I needed to get Madison out of there. I couldn't lose her. Not the same way I'd lost Lauren. I wouldn't. I needed to get to her out of the house and I couldn't afford to wait until Jimmy and the guys found us. Time was ticking and the pressure was building.

The ceiling above us moaned and creaked like a dying animal. There was a loud pop and crash overhead – I imagined some of the overhead beams in the attic were already starting to come down in flaming ruin. The house had less material for the fire to eat than the warehouse did, which meant that time was very quickly running out.

“Okay, we're going out there,” I said. “We have to make a run for the front door.”

Madison's eyes grew wide and the fear etched on her face only deepened. She shook her head.

“W— we can't,” she wailed.

“We have to,” I said. “We need to get to Jimmy. This whole place is about to come down and we need to get out of here.”

“I— I can't, Oliver.”

“Yes, you can,” I said. “We have to go. Now. Stand back, Madison.”

She moved behind me, holding her washcloth to her face, shaking her head and muttering to herself. Using the wet washcloth in my hand, I grasped the doorknob and yanked it open. A burst of flame shot in, and I had to duck to keep from being hit in the face with it. As it was, I smelled the odor of burning hair, so I hadn't gotten away from it scot-free.

The scene in the hallway looked like a scene straight out of hell. Flames engulfed the entire room beyond the door. Long fingers of flame crawled up the walls and the smoke was thick and dark, the clouds, reflecting the fire, glowing a malevolent shade of red and orange.

Madison shook her head again, her complexion blanching and her eyes growing impossibly wide. “I can’t walk through that.”

Turning to Madison, I reached and grabbed her. I picked her up and slung her over my shoulder.

“You don't have to,” I said. “Now, keep that rag over your mouth. Don't take it off for any reason.”

I put my rag over my own mouth and adjusted her on my shoulder. The heat from the fire, even though it hadn't reached the bedroom yet, was intense. It felt like my skin itself was on fire. Taking a breath through the rag, I walked out the bedroom door.

I made my way down the hallway, dodging the bursts of flame that erupted all around us. Madison screamed when one burst of fire got particularly close to us. It was like walking through hell. Sweat rolled down my face and my eyes stung like a son of a bitch. The smoke was blinding me, so all I could do was walk in the direction I thought the front door was in and pray that I was going the right way.

The smoke was growing ever thicker and my eyes burned like they were on fire. Tears welled in my eyes from the sting but I kept moving forward. I carried Madison through a living room that was completely engulfed in flame – there was nothing that wasn't on fire. As I moved through the wreckage of the room, my own breathing was becoming more and more difficult. This time, I didn't even have a mask to share with her. I had to keep moving.

I heard a loud crashing against a wall. It wasn't the sound of the fire splitting the wood. It was the sound of somebody outside trying to knock the door in. Jimmy. The first thump was followed by another. And then another. On the fourth go, the front door cracked and blew off the hinges, splintering inward in a shower of wood shards.

Jimmy and my guys pushed their way inside, allowing a stream of fresh air to come pouring in. I heard hoses being dragged on the floor, the sound of boots thundering into the house, and the magical, musical sound, of flames sizzling and being extinguished as the water and fire retardant were sprayed on them.

The smoke got worse, and outside air wasn't coming in fast enough though. We were not out of the woods just yet. Following the open doorway like a moth to an open flame, I walked toward the door, moving quickly, desperate to get to the fresh air.

The next thing I knew Jimmy was beside me. He was forcing a mask over my face and took Madison out of my arms. He cradled her in his, sharing his own mask with her. She looked up at me, her soot-covered, tear-streaked face a frightening sight. But, at least she was alive. At least she was breathing. The air outside was filled with smoke too, and we needed to get out of here. Fast.

Giving it one, final push, I sprinted for the open doorway, Jimmy right behind. The house shuddered and groaned as the fire consumed it, but I burst through the open doorway and into the bright light and fresh air of the day. As soon as my feet hit grass, I fell to my hands and knees. I coughed and retched, but at least I could breathe. Jimmy put Madison on the ground beside me and she sucked in lungful after lungful of that fresh, sweet air.

She stared over at me and in a voice that was hoarse all over again, she whispered, “Thank you,” she said. “You never gave up. You saved me. Again.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure. I turned and caught him walking away from the burning house. He glanced back over his shoulder and, when he saw me staring at him, he started to run.

I had to do something. I couldn't just let that asshole walk away. If he got away, he'd try again. No, this shit needed to end and it needed to end now.

Summoning the energy I had left in my body, I pulled myself to my feet. An EMT was nearby, a guy named Caleb I knew well enough.

I called him over said, “Get her out of here. Now.”

Caleb did as I commanded, though, I didn't wait for him to do it. I knew the process well enough though, to know that he was loading Madison into the ambulance as quickly as he could. I heard the slamming of the rear doors and, a moment later, I heard the sound of tires peeling and siren wailing.

The ambulance took off down the street, ferrying Madison to the hospital. Again. I still couldn't breathe that well, but it would have to do. I wasn't going to let that prick get away from me again. He was halfway down the block and seeing him sent a burst of anger surging through me. It energized me and I took off behind the guy.

He thankfully wasn't a very fast runner. From where I was, he seemed to be a little on the portly side and was definitely not an athlete. I was gaining ground on him and would be on top of him in a matter of moments.

The man ducked his head and ran for all he was worth, turned the corner and promptly tripped over his own feet. The stumble allowed me to close the gap between us and I was on him in a heartbeat. I landed on top of him, drawing a pained yelp from him. In one fast motion, I yanked the hood off his head and stared into the same brown eyes from the hotel.

Stared into the eyes of a man I didn't know. A man I'd never met before. A man who looked like a regular guy – nothing remarkable about him. But a guy who'd very nearly killed me and had very nearly killed Madison – twice. He looked at me with fear in his eyes.

This was the man who'd killed Lauren.

Raising my fist, I brought it crashing down into his face. I heard the bones snap as my fist made contact and his head was driven backward, rapping against the concrete sidewalk. Hard. He groaned and then went limp underneath me. As blood seeped from his nose, a rivulet running down his face, the man drifted into unconsciousness.

It was over. It was truly over.

 

CHAPTER TEN

MADISON

 

My entire world had come crashing down around me. Even days later, it still felt so entirely surreal. I sat in Oliver's house, staring at the ceiling or walls for hours at a time. My body and mind completely numb. My heart feeling like it had been utterly shattered. Tears rolled freely down my face every time the realization that I no longer had a home of my own to go back to hit me again and again.

I'd lost everything I'd worked so hard to secure for myself. Everything was gone. Forever. My equipment for my Podcast. My computer. My photos. Everything. It was all gone and there was no way to get any of it back.

Oliver assured me that I had a place to stay, for as long as I needed it. It was a gesture I appreciated more than he'd ever know. As kind as it was though, it still wasn't my home. My things were nothing more than a pile of ash and garbage now. All of the memories and the hard work I'd put into creating them – gone.

Still, Oliver was bending over backwards to be generous. Hospitable. Kind. And I truly did appreciate the hell out of it. Especially given our history together. All those years ago, I'd screwed him over and hurt him. Yet, here he was saving my life time and time again.

My phone kept buzzing at all hours of the day and night. But Oliver, thankfully, kept fielding them for me. I didn't want to tell my story repeatedly. My parents got the full story. As did my best friend. My sister got most of it because, by that time, I was tired of re-living it. I didn't feel like rehashing it a thousand different times to a thousand different people.

“They caught the guy, right?”

“Yes,” I'd say.

“And you're alive, so at least there's that.”

I was alive. They were right about that much. Yet, I felt like an empty shell of a human. Without my equipment, I had no show. Without the show, I had no career. Without a career, I had no money and no future. It was a depressing as hell cycle of thought that I couldn't seem to break. And it got that much harder every time I had to try and explain my story to somebody.

I sighed and got online, using Oliver's computer and updated my website. I let my devoted listeners know what happened and promised to be back up and running as soon as I could. Not that I knew when that was going to be. Or if it would ever actually happen.

“At least I'm alive,” I muttered to myself, hearing the hollow futility ringing in my words.

Oliver had to go back to work eventually, leaving me alone in his townhome. I was nervous and jittery at first, even though the guy behind the attacks had been caught. But, at night, when I was home alone in a house that wasn't mine, I still woke up shaking with fear. Sounds would catch me off guard, set my heart pounding, my pulse racing, and fear nearly crippling me.

I didn't know when the last time I'd actually gotten a decent night's sleep had been. But, most of the time, Oliver was there to hold me, to soothe me.

Many nights, I'd be the one soothing him though.

Until eventually, we slept through the night. Both of us. It was about a month after everything had happened, and Oliver was off work. We collapsed into bed, in each other's arms, and didn't wake up until after eight the next morning. It had been absolutely wonderful and completely unexpected. But, completely welcome.

I woke up first, feeling good after an actual solid night of sleep. I lay there and stared at the man beside me. He looked so peaceful sleeping next to me, with the sun streaming down onto his face, making his cheeks glow.

This same man saved my life not once, not twice, but three times. I kissed his cheek softly, not wanting to wake him. I appreciated Oliver for everything he'd done for me and knew he, more than anybody, deserved to sleep for a week straight if he wanted to.

When my lips touched his skin though, his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled up at me.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I did,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “You?”

He nodded. “First time in well over a year,” he admitted.

Without preamble or warning, Oliver pulled me to him and kissed me, neither one of us caring about morning breath. His tongue entered my mouth as he pulled me over on top of him. I felt his cock, already stiff, as I straddled him. Oliver lifted the nightgown up and over my head and tossed it aside, taking my breasts in his hands.

“You make me feel as beautiful as you did back when I was seventeen,” I laughed.

“Hell, you're more beautiful now,” he said. “Not that I ever thought that would be possible. You were the most beautiful girl in high school.”

I felt my cheeks flush. Oliver always seemed to have that effect on me. He didn't even have to say the words most of the time – he just looked at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And I believed him.

His erection pressed against his boxers and I ground myself down on him, dry humping him as we kissed. His hands were tangled up in my hair as I rubbed myself against his firm, hard body. He raked his fingers down my back, drawing a shudder out of my body and a soft moan from my lips.

Suddenly, Oliver pulled back from the kiss and stared into my eyes.

“I love you, Madison,” he said.

My heart raced as I absorbed his words, not sure what to make of them. Not sure what to say in return. I just sat there, staring at him, like a complete idiot.

“So much for not getting serious,” I joked.

It was the wrong thing to say, I knew it instantly, and felt like an asshole. The pain was etched into his face, and even though I felt the same way as him, I felt like I had nothing to offer him. I was, once again, starting from scratch. I was in no place to give myself to someone else. I brought nothing into a potential relationship.

But, he'd gone out on a limb by admitting his feelings. He deserved the same sort of emotional honesty and integrity from me. I owed it to him. In the days and weeks after our brush with death, I'd seen a change in Oliver. The darkness that always seemed to be behind his eyes had lifted, and the heaviness that seemed to weigh his soul down dissipated. He seemed like a new man. A free man. A happier man.

I knew it had a lot to do with finally getting closure. With finally knowing who had killed his girlfriend and seeing the man behind bars.

I was happy to see this new version of Oliver and could really get used to being around him. Being with him.

“I love you too, Ollie.”

I said the words because they needed to be said. Almost a decade after he set off that initial fluttering in my heart, I could finally tell him how I actually felt about him. And when I said the words aloud for the first time, my heart swelled so much, I feared it might burst.

Oliver pulled me down, hard, and kissed me. I slid my hands down to his boxers and pushed them down his legs. He helped me out by slipping them down his legs the rest of the way and kicking them aside.

Reaching out, I gripped him with one hand and gave his stiff rod a good, hard stroke. Feeling his prick growing even stiffer in my hand set off an explosion within me. I felt the heat and the wetness between my thighs growing.

I needed to have him inside me. I needed to have him inside me now.

Gripping his rock-hard shaft, I lowered myself down onto him, taking the tip of his cock inside of me with ease. Given how wet I was, he slipped into me without any difficulty at all. It was like our bodies were meant to be together.

I gasped as he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me down further onto his cock. He filled me up and stretched me open like no man ever had before, but the slight pinch of pain only seemed to add a little heat and spice to the intense pleasure he sent rocketing through my body.

It only took a second for my body to adjust to the size of his prick because I was already wet and ready for him. Slowly, I rocked back and forth on top of him, grinding my pelvis against his as his hands wandered the length of my body.

I felt whole when I was with him, like nothing else mattered.

“I love you,” I said again, hoping to prove it with my body.

Oliver's bed bounced as we made love, our bodies moving together as one. Each time we were together, I was amazed at how good he felt inside of me. Stunned by how he could bring me to such intense highs within minutes. Almost without even trying. It was as if he knew every inch of my body, inside and out. Knew what buttons to press to get me going and what levers to pull to get me off. It was all so effortless on his part.

Oliver sucked on my nipple, knowing full well that it would send an electrical shock through my body and ignite a fire of pleasure inside of me. I writhed against him, crying out his name as the first wave of ecstasy washed over me.

It was powerful, making me nearly scream and I spasmed so hard, I felt like I'd lost control of my body entirely for a moment. I bucked and thrashed, moving so much I felt like I might fall off him, but Oliver held onto my hips, pulled me down onto his cock harder, keeping us together.

My body exploded in pleasure against his, my wet pussy clenching around his shaft as I thrashed wildly on top of him. My head fell forward, resting on his chest as I rode him. I could hear his heart and smiled as it raced. I moved my hips, bouncing myself up and down on his hard rod faster, taking him deeper. The sound of his breathing was growing ragged and his movements were becoming a little more frantic.

I knew he was close and I wanted to get him off so bad. Wanted to make him feel as good as he made me feel. Needed to. I tightened the muscles inside me around him, gripping his cock as tightly as I could with my pussy as the last throes of my orgasm rushed through me.

Oliver held onto me, thrusting himself upward and keeping me still as his face twisted with a look of intense pleasure. I felt his body stiffen, which was followed by the feel of his hard, long cock throbbing and pulsing deep within me. A moment later, I felt the heat, warmth, and wetness flooding my body, and I knew he was exploding inside of me. Knew that he was filling me with his seed.

As our bodies relaxed, I collapsed on top of him, spent. Oliver held me like that, my body pressed against his, both of us basking in the post-coital afterglow, for a long time. As I lay there, visions of a future – a future with him – filled my head. A future I'd never imagined before.

After a while, he whispered, “Follow me,” he said. “I have something to show you.”

“What are you going to show me?”

“Can't tell you,” he said. “It's a surprise.”

He slipped me off him, his cum spilling out of me, running down my leg, and took me by the hand. I followed him, still naked, from his bedroom and out into the hallway. Across from his room was the other bedroom, and the door was closed.

He turned and gave me a mischievous little smile, a little glint in his eye. I cocked my head and looked at him, curious. Without a word, he reached out and took the doorknob in his hand.

“You ready?” he asked.

I grinned. “I'm getting a little chilly,” I said. “So yeah, I'm ready – ready to go crawl back under the comforter.”

He turned the knob without a word and pushed the door inward. “I thought you might need a new studio and office.”

My stomach roiling and my heart fluttering, I stepped inside and felt my jaw drop. It was everything I'd lost in the fire – and more. A lot more. Cameras and microphones and computers. I walked around just gawking at everything, afraid to touch anything because I knew none of it was cheap.

“How did you—”

I bit back my words and held my tongue. I didn't want to insult him, or hurt his ego, and ask the question I was dying to know – how in the hell had he been able to afford all this stuff? Instead, I shook my head and looked him in the eye, feeling profoundly grateful and entirely distraught at the same time.

“Oliver, you shouldn't have,” I said. “I— I can't accept this. This is too much.”

“It wasn't just me,” Oliver said with an awkward smile. “It was them.”

“Who?”

I looked around sharply, on the verge of panic, thinking that someone else was in the room with us. But Oliver walked around the solid dark oak desk and pointed to the open laptop.

My fanpage was open and, even now, the comments were pouring in. Love and condolences and well-wishes from people I didn't even know – most of whom I'd never met and probably never would. What amazed me the most was that many of the well-wishers were coming in from places well outside of Chicago. Well out of Illinois entirely.

I never knew I had such a large, passionate, and dedicated base of fans in states around the country, and it made my heart swell with gratitude. I looked down at the screen, reading some of the comments, my eyes filling with tears as I read them out.

Madison, it's not much, but keep fighting the good fight. Never give up. Love Patsy and Mike from St. Louis, Missouri.

Here's a little something from your biggest fan. Smooches! Ariel from Southside Chi-town.

Sorry to hear about everything. Hope this helps. Signed, Todd from Oakland Park.

It just went on and on and on. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. I couldn't even begin to read them all. I had no idea how I was even going to begin thanking everybody who'd had a hand in making this happen – getting me back on the air, doing what I do.

“Seems you have a lot of fans,” Oliver said. “They all wanted to help out, get you set back up in your new place.”

My new place. So, this was my place, huh? I didn't think my heart could swell any more, but hearing him speak those words proved me wrong. It swelled so much, it had to be the size of the Goodyear blimp.

I turned and kissed Oliver, pressing myself against him and nearly knocking the much larger man to the ground by sheer force.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” I said, tears flowing down my cheeks.

Ten years ago, I had a chance with him and blew it. I'd thrown it away because of my own selfishness and stupidity. Back then, I hadn't been ready for this level of commitment. This level of love and devotion.

Now I was.

There was no way in hell I'd ever mess things up with him again. I'd never take him for granted and would always make him feel as appreciated as he made me feel.

Oliver and I were good together. My sexy fireman. The man who'd saved my life. Though, I wanted to believe that in our own ways, we'd saved each other.

The End