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My stomach tightens.

I knew the question might come.

“I never knew him.”

Torch waits.

“Mom didn't like talking about him. Whenever I asked, she'd tell me things were complicated.”

“Did she ever tell you his name?”

“No.”

That much is true.

She never said his name.

I discovered a name later, in an obituary tucked away among her belongings.

A name that led me to the man holding me now.

Guilt settles heavily in my chest.

Torch kisses the top of my head.

“Must've been hard.”

“Sometimes.”

I take a breath.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Family. You can't interrogate me and expect to escape without answering a question.”

“Wasn't interrogating you.”

“That's exactly what an interrogator would say.”

He laughs under his breath.

“My dad was a firefighter. Died in the line of duty when I was younger.”

“I'm sorry.”

He nods. “Mom used to say I was just like him. She meant it as a compliment, but I wasn't so sure.”

“Why?”

“He was a hero to everybody else. Wasn't home much for us.”

There's something in his voice that tells me the subject isn't an easy one.

I rest my hand against his chest.

“Is that why the club matters so much?” I ask.