For a moment, we just stand there. The air hums with history and restraint and everything we’re pretending isn’t pressing in on us from all sides.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask, because it’s safer than asking what she’s thinking.
She shakes her head. “Too much adrenaline. My brain won’t shut up.”
“Yeah. Fires are like that.”
I lean against the counter across from her, careful to keep distance. I can smell her tea—chamomile, maybe. Something calming. Of course she’d reach for that.
We pretend this is normal. We pretend this is fine.
“Roz is right about the insurance.”
“What?”
“I overheard some of your discussion. She’s right. Most of the repairs should be covered. Electrical inspections take time, but the bar will reopen.”
She nods. “I just hate the not knowing part of this. How things will shake out… I finally felt like things were steady. Now this.”
“One setback doesn’t erase what you built.”
She glances at me then, like she’s surprised. “You sure about that?”
“I’ve seen it a hundred times, Harper. Fires happen. People rebuild and move on. You can, too.”
A slight smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I think I needed to hear that.”
“Mason seems like a great kid,” I add. “Smart. Brave. Takes after his mom.”
Her face softens immediately, pride cutting through exhaustion. “He is. He asks too many questions.”
“That’s a good quality.” One of my favorite qualities she had six years ago, and proof that he takes after her.
She huffs a quiet laugh. “He’s the best person I have ever known. Big brain. Bigger heart.”
Jealousy creeps up the back of my throat, but I stifle it the way I do every time a parent brags on their kid. “You’re very lucky, then.”
“I am dying to know something that’s none of my business.”
“Go ahead and ask.” Anything, so long as it’s not about our first night together.
She bites her lip, and I can only stare. Then, she gets her courage up. “How on earth do you have a penthouse like this on a firefighter’s salary?”
I laugh, taken aback by the question. Might be the last thing I thought she’d ask. “When I first got started, one of the other firefighters took me under her wing about some property investments. I didn’t take it too seriously—threw a little money into it without thinking.” I shrug. “To my surprise, they did really well. Now, I wish I’d thrown more into the investments. I’m still working like a chump, and she’s retired on a little island in the South Pacific, living like a queen.”
Harper nods thoughtfully and sips her tea. Silence settles again, heavier this time. The city hums beyond the windows, distant and uncaring. I notice everything—the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous, the faint tremor in her hands, the way she keeps her body angled toward the exit like she’s prepared to bolt.
She’s protecting herself. From me. Thank God.
Then she looks at me. Not politely. Not cautiously. Directly. “Why did you call it a mistake?”
The question brings me back to that morning in a rough instant. Guilt and shame collide in my gut.
“That morning at the cabin,” she continues, voice steady but tight, “did you really regret it? Regret…me?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I don’t know how to tell her that pushing her away felt like the only way to keep from dragging her into my darkness.
HARPER
