Crouching low as he walked down what he assumed was the hallway, he tried to keep his sanity as the flames seared his backside. If he made it out of this house with half his body coated in burns, he wouldn’t be shocked.

His muscles started to get heavy, his breathing labored, even with his mask on and the oxygen flowing nicely.

“It’s too hot.” He squeezed the dog reassuringly. “But I’m going to get you out of here.”

Every time he turned his head, trying to get his bearings down, all he saw was orange and red. Bright flames waiting to fry him like a hot dog over an open fire pit.

“Bentley. To your right.”

The sound of his buddy talking in his ear sent a rush of hope straight to his veins. Like a shot of adrenaline. He had no idea what was to his right. More flames? More heat? More smoke? Freedom? He didn’t care. His fellow firefighter said to turn right, so he was going to turn right.

Making the turn as fast as he could, the dog still clutched tightly in his arms, he didn’t pause as his buddy grabbed his arm and led him out of the house via the back door. Which was crazy, because he remembered entering the house through the front door. Searching for the dog and then attempting to find his way out had really turned him around.

After getting far away from the house, he collapsed to the ground, set the dog down gently, who barely moved, and shoved off his helmet and mask, gulping in a huge breath of fresh air.

“That was a close one, man. I can’t believe you went back in.”

Bentley took another huge breath of air, then grinned at Charlie, his savior. “I had to get the dog. He’s a part of their family.” He looked down at the dog, who sat quietly by his side, his soulful eyes glancing up at him as if he understood what just happened.

The dog was safe. The little girl would be happy. Nothing else mattered.

Charlie clapped him on the back and chuckled. “You’re crazy sometimes. Glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks for coming in for me.”

“Always.”

Charlie scooped up the dog and walked away. Bentley smiled as he heard the delightful squeals from the little girl as she grabbed her precious pet.

It was a puppy. A small golden retriever that would live to see another day.

Because of him.

He couldn’t wait to get home, take a shower, grab a beer, and appreciate the silence for once. The fact he ran into a burning home that was ready to fall apart at any moment and saved a dog because a little girl pleaded for him to do so made him feel grateful to be alive.

Thinking about it now, it had been a dumb decision to run back in the house. But it all worked out.

Standing up, he tried not to imagine how badly the fire chief would ream him out for his reckless actions.

He walked to the front of the house, where the rest of the crew battled the flames, and went right to the chief, who had a fierce expression on his face.

“We’ll talk later. You hurt?”

Bentley shook his head. “Not a scratch.” Shockingly. Because he swore he felt the flames blazing right through his turnout jacket.

“Why are you still standing around?”

He shoved his helmet on his head and jumped back in to help his fellow firefighters tame the fire burning through the Daughtry’s family home.

They’d snuff this fire out, but it didn’t matter. Besides the barn standing tall and proud behind them, the house was a complete loss.

Christmas was only two and a half weeks away. What a way to spend the holidays. Homeless.

As he grabbed part of the hose behind Charlie, he couldn’t help but remember what happened to Theresa’s home last Christmas. Theresa was his best friend’s wife. He knew as soon as she found out, as well as most of the other townsfolk, the Daughtry’s wouldn’t feel homeless. The town would band together and make sure they had the best damn Christmas they could this year.

Because that’s what they did in Mulberry. They looked out for each other.

He knew exactly who’d be at the center of the organization to turn their crappy holiday into a beautiful one.

Daphne.

The one woman he let get away. The one woman he would never have.

She was getting married in two and a half weeks. On Christmas Eve.

The Daughtry’s might still have a wonderful holiday.

But for him—this Christmas was going to suck.

* * *

Her fingers curled around the door handle, and with one quick breath, she pulled it open. There was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing. She didn’t get nervous.

Rolling her shoulders, she pasted on a smile. She wasn’t having the best morning to produce a real one, but she’d at least make it appear as if nothing was wrong in her life.

Absolutely nothing wrong.

Emma stopped in front of the counter and eyed the pretty blonde talking a mile a minute on the phone. The blonde, whose hair looked perfectly combed into a ponytail that she knew she’d never be able to replicate, held up a finger to her with a friendly smile.

She smiled back, feeling obligated to do so, then carefully took her cream-colored knit hat off her head. She tried not to groan as she felt her hair stand straight up as if someone had rubbed a plastic balloon over her head to make her hair as staticky as they could. I hate hats. She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts.  No, you don’t. You hate how perfect she looks.

Trying to tame her dull brown hair as unobtrusively as she could, she waited impatiently for the woman to get off the dumb phone.

She wanted to get this over with and get out of town.

Fix her car.

Find a place to live.

Just…feel happy for once.

The woman ended the call, then gently laid the phone down on the cradle. Her ponytail bounced merrily as she shuffled a few things around her desk and then looked at Emma with a bright smile.

God, she hated that smile for some reason. Why did this woman have to look so joyous and happy?

“How can I help you?” That annoying smile was still plastered on her face.

Emma forced herself to keep the fake happiness displayed and resisted the temptation to fix her hair again. Her bland, almost mousy brown hair looked nothing like the perfection that was before her. It never would. She could never style it the way she liked. It lay past her shoulders, and with a lack of a haircut in over six months, one would probably be able to see the split ends if they looked closely enough. She didn’t have time for a haircut with everything that had happened lately. Not that a haircut would have her looking as beautiful as this woman.

“Ma’am?”

Blinking, she realized she never responded. “Uh, yeah. I’m here to see Elliot Duncan.”

A slow brow rose, yet with the same friendly smile in place. “Chief Duncan. Do you have an appointment?”

Chief Duncan. Well, excuse me. She almost blurted out that sarcastic comment.

“I don’t. Is that a problem?”

The irritating woman shook her head, her annoying perfect blonde hair swinging with delight. “Of course not. I’ll see if he’s available.” Her hand reached for the phone. “Can I have your name, please?”

She swallowed. “Emma.” She fisted her hands. “Emma Brookes.”

“Thank you.” The woman punched a bunch of numbers and then started speaking.

Emma drifted away from the counter, suddenly wanting to flee fast and hard. What was she doing here? Why did she care so much?

“He’ll be right here.”

Emma looked at her, unable to hide the panic in her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, then turned to get the hell out of this town. She changed her mind. She couldn’t do this.

Hitting what felt like a brick wall, she almost fell before a strong arm grabbed her around the waist. The strong yet gentle touch immediately disappeared. For the tiniest of moments, she missed the touch, the strange tingling sensation that had zapped her when the man’s fingers wrapped around her waist.

“I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes drifted upward and met with a pair of startling hazel eyes, almost shimmering like golden tinsel hanging on a tree. Blinking, she tried to dislodge that silly notion. Golden tinsel? Ridiculous.

The man with the sparkling eyes she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from burrowed his brows in concern. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” She stepped back and to the side so he could pass.

He hesitated, then nodded and produced the biggest grin as he made eye contact with the beautiful woman behind the counter. Emma wanted to throw up. Why didn’t he smile at her like that? Nobody ever smiled at her as if she were the most precious gem in the world.

Jealousy was a rabid disease. It did nothing but tear a person apart and turn them into someone with a black heart. She had no use for such emotion.

But eyeing this man, who she didn’t know, as he looked at this woman, who she also didn’t know, with such love and adoration made the jealousy coat every inch of her body. She wanted to shout at his back, “Look at me like that!”

“Bentley, are you okay? You gave us all a fright yesterday.”

His grin widened, if that was even possible. “Perfectly fine. How are you, Daphne? Have you taken a breather at all today?”

“I just got off the phone with Theresa. We’ve been sharing the duty of gathering supplies.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me…”

Emma let their conversation drift away, closing her mind off everything but her task. The same task she had been about to flee from. Nobody had ever accused her of being a coward, and they wouldn’t start today.

Bentley.

Daphne.

What kind of names were those?

They were probably a couple. An annoying, sweet, sickening couple. A couple who probably did public displays of affection constantly, murmured I love you all the time. She had the urge to throw up again.

He looked just as perfect as the woman. His light brown hair was combed flawlessly. Although it was rather short, there wasn’t much to style in any certain way. But still, pretty much picture perfect. And his smile was—

“Emma?”

Her head jerked to the right to a man she hadn’t seen in ages. Fifteen years, to be exact.

“Is that really you?”

A small smile came out of nowhere. A real, genuine smile as the man she had looked up to for the brief time she knew him beamed at her brightly.

“It’s me. I didn’t know if you’d remember me or…”

Elliot grinned and held out his arms for a hug. She didn’t hesitate. She stepped into his embrace and hugged him back, soaked up his affection and his warmth as much as she could. She’d need it for remembrance when she was alone, with nobody to cling to, to talk to. Just be with.

Elliot pulled her away, the same wonderful expression on his face. “It’s been way too long. How’s your father?” His smile dimmed a bit. “It’s shameful to say, I haven’t spoken to him in a few years.”

Just like that, her feet ached to flee once again. She wanted to run out the door, get into her car that probably wouldn’t start, and drive out of this town without a backward glance.

“Emma?” His thumb brushed a stray tear off her cheek.

She hadn’t shed a tear in the longest time. She didn’t even cry at the funeral. Why now? Why in front of him?

“He’s dead.” She said it without emotion.

She honestly had none left. No happiness. No joy. No worries.

The only emotion she could muster every minute, every second, of every day, was fear.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The expression on Elliot’s face spoke the truth. She was sorry, too, but probably for a different reason. A tender arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Let’s go to my office.”

She nodded, her gaze drifting to the perfect couple behind them. She connected with Bentley’s golden eyes, his annoying concern back in his glittering depths.

She didn’t want his concern.

She didn’t want anything—from anyone.

She wanted to do what she came here to do. Then leave.

Leave and hopefully find where she belonged in the world.

Copyright © 2018 Amanda Siegrist.

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