A muscle ticked in his jaw. He didn’t believe her. He looked so dark and angry and she hated it. But one thing was certain—this man would make a formidable enemy.
“Did I hear around town you were a SEAL before you were a firefighter?” she asked, suddenly wanting to know a bit more about him.
“Yeah. And I was good at it because I was driven to take down the scum we were assigned to.”
Of course, he’d openly tell her that he was a good Navy SEAL. But that might not be hubris. Even becoming a SEAL was one of the hardest achievements there was. “I can picture you as a good SEAL.”
“In that line of work, you have to be good or you don’t make it out alive.”
Her slight smile fled. The idea of this man defending the country by fighting the most dangerous people in the world was terrifying. “Why’d you leave?”
“It was time. I started losing my drive. My purpose. And out there, if you don’t have those things, you’re a sitting duck. You have to have pinpoint focus to stay alive.”
“So you came home.”
“So I came home.”
Why did a little part of her feel unbelievably grateful for that? “Do you miss it?”
“Some days. But everything I liked about it, I still get as a firefighter.”
“You like danger.”
“I like the adrenaline rush. But more than that, I like feeling as if what I do matters.”
Itdidmatter. He was a hero. An ass a lot of the time…but also a hero.
“What about you?” he asked. “Do you miss Cheyenne?”
“No. I think I was trying to make myself fit into a town where I didn’t belong. I was just so desperate for separation from my parents and their church and who I was here that I chose a random town and tried to force it. I love Mom and Dad…but I wanted to love them from afar.”
“Why come back then?”
“Because it’s familiar, and with the familiarity came a feeling of safety. And I needed that.”
His brows flickered. “Who’s Charlie?”
Air caught in her lungs. “How do you know about Charlie?”
“You said the name in your sleep.”
Damn her and her inability to just sleep without walking or talking. “He was my Border Terrier.”
“Was?”
“There was a fire at my house…” The flames flashed in her mind again, cutting off her words.
Her heart started to beat faster.
“How did the fire start?” Becket asked, pulling her attention back to him.
“It was an electrical fire. They said something about aged or faulty wiring. Honestly, all I could think about was Charlie. I didn’t even care about my house.”
“What happened to him?”
The familiar ache settled inside her chest. “I got him out of the house, but he’d inhaled too much smoke. He was old and already had lung problems. He passed away a few days later.”
Her fault. His death had been her fault. Because that accident hadn’t been the first. It was just the last of a string of incidents in Cheyenne. She’d known she wasn’t safe to be around. Although, even if she had acknowledged it, she wasn’t sure what she could have done.
