"So, you asked me out," I say, getting us back on track. "Where'd we go?"
"Where do you want to say we went?"
"I don't know. Somewhere in town. The diner, maybe? That seems like a normal first date."
He nods slowly. "The diner works."
"Okay. Good. We went to the diner, we talked, we hit it off. And then we just... kept seeing each other."
"Okay."
"And we haven't told anyone yet because it's new and we wanted to keep it private."
"Makes sense."
This is working. This is totally working. So why does it feel like there's an elephant in the room that I'm desperately pretending not to see?
Nash takes a drink of his coffee, and I watch his throat work as he swallows.
I need help.
Professional help.
"Is there anything else we should cover?" I ask. "Pet peeves? Habits? Things couples would know about each other?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. What time you wake up. What you do for fun. Whether you're a morning person or a night owl."
"Morning," he says. "I wake up at five. Don't really have hobbies. Work keeps me busy."
"You must do something for fun."
He's quiet for a moment. "I read sometimes."
"Yeah? What kind of books?"
"Thrillers. Mysteries. Stuff where I can turn my brain off."
I smile before I can stop myself. "I wouldn't have taken you for a reader."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. You just seem more..." I trail off, realizing I'm about to say something potentially insulting.
"More what?"
"Action-oriented," I finish lamely. "Like you'd rather be doing something than sitting still."
"I've done enough action for one lifetime."
There's something in his voice when he says it. Something heavy. I think about the scars again. The ones I can see and the ones I can't.
"How long were you a firefighter?" I ask.
"Twenty-two years."
"That's a long time."
