Page 26 of Fire Bear

Ash unclipped parts of his firefighting gear, grunting when his stiff muscles complained. Each piece landed heavily near the door. Smoke clung to the fabric, and she wrinkled her nose at the strong smell.

He peeled off his shirt, revealing the lines of his chest streaked with soot and sweat. She could see faint red marks near his collarbone from the harness he had worn. Concern flared inside her, though she saw no serious burns—just the raw evidence of an exhausting night’s labor.

She realized her own clothes were in no better condition. The orchard dust and smoke had stained her shirt and jeans. She pulled them off, feeling a wave of relief as she let the filthy garments drop to the tile floor. The rest of her clothing followed.

Her cheeks warmed at the sight of him, though the night’s events tempered any sense of awkwardness. She saw the exhaustion etched in the lines of his face and the tension in his shoulders.

The shower beckoned, so she stepped into the stall first, gasping softly when the hot water cascaded over her hair and skin. The heat soaked into her muscles. Ash joined her, and the small space forced them close. Her heart thudded, but comfort surged when he gently placed a hand against her upper back, guiding her under the spray. They both let out long breaths as the water coursed down their bodies, washing away the smoky residue that clung to them.

Eliana tilted her head back, water streaming down her face. Her hair fell over her shoulders, heavy with moisture. For a moment, she closed her eyes and listened to the soft patter of water against the tile.

Ash cleared his throat. “Here,” he said, his voice husky from smoke inhalation. He reached for a bar of soap she had on a small shelf. “Let me help.”

She gave a shaky nod, letting him lather soap in his hands. He began with her arms, his hands gentle yet thorough, scrubbingaway the soot that had smeared across her skin. It felt like she was being cared for, which made the tears well up again.

She pressed her lips tight, determined not to burst into sobs. The orchard had come too close to being destroyed. The orchard still might be in danger if whoever was behind these fires was not done. Fear gnawed at her, overshadowed only by gratitude that Ash had come back from the flames unhurt.

When he reached her shoulders, she could not hold it in. A soft, choked cry escaped her. She leaned forward, pressing her face against his chest, letting the water spray down her back. “I was so scared,” she whispered, words muffled against his skin. “For you. For my trees.”

He slid his soapy hands up to cradle the back of her head. “I know,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

She let out a sob, tears mingling with the hot water. Her body trembled, and she felt him gather her closer. The solidity of his arms, the soothing baritone of his voice—all wrapped around her heart. She let the tears flow. Everything felt so uncertain, and she hated feeling powerless.

Ash stood firmly, supporting her weight as the water continued to run, washing away the remnants of soot from his own skin. She felt her tears slow after a few moments, replaced by quiet sniffles.

Eventually, she lifted her face. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice still shaky. “I guess I needed that.”

He shook his head, eyes kind. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been strong this whole time. It’s okay to let the fear and sadness out.”

She drew a shaky breath and nodded, noticing the lines of tension etched into his features. He was every bit as tired. “Let me help you now,” she said, picking up the soap from the small niche. “You’re covered in soot.”

He turned slightly, letting her see the streaks of black and gray that marred his neck and shoulders. It was not just superficial—the orchard’s agony was painted on him. She reached up, scrubbing softly. He hissed once, likely at a sore spot, but nodded for her to continue.

She took her time washing the grime from his chest, trailing gentle fingers across the defined muscles of his arms. As she worked, she let the residual tears fade, focusing on this task. Each stroke of her hands felt like an affirmation that he was safe, that he had come out of the fire in one piece.

When they finally rinsed away the last of the soap, both of them looked cleaner, though emotionally spent. Eliana turned off the water. Her limbs felt rubbery as she reached for two towels hanging near the shower door. She wrapped herself in one and handed the other to Ash, who gave her a grateful smile. The shift from the steamy heat to the cooler air of the bathroom made her shiver.

She felt the tears threaten again, but she fought them back. She needed to keep it together enough to handle what was to come. Ash patted himself down with the towel, wincing slightly when he touched a bruised spot on his arm.

In her bedroom, Eliana grabbed a soft pair of pajamas from her dresser—a plain T-shirt and comfortable shorts. She slipped them on quickly, relishing the fresh fabric against her cleaned skin. She ran a hand through her damp hair, letting it hang loose around her shoulders.

When she stepped back into the hallway, she found Ash rummaging in a small overnight bag he kept in his truck for emergencies. He withdrew a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweats. She watched him pull the clothes on, noticing how his shoulders still seemed tense from the firefight. He caught her gaze and managed a faint half-smile that melted her heart a little.

She wanted to lie down with him and forget everything, but her mind still buzzed with anxiety. “Would you like some tea?” she asked. “I need something calming before bed.”

He nodded. “That sounds nice.”

They made their way to the kitchen. Eliana set some water to boil in a kettle, then rummaged through a tin of herbal teas until she found a nighttime blend that had always helped her unwind after a long day.

Ash leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest, watching her. She could sense he was giving her space. The kettle eventually let out a subdued hiss of steam, and she poured the hot water into two cups. The fragrant aroma of chamomile filled the air.

They sat at the small kitchen table. Eliana cupped her hands around the mug, feeling the comforting warmth seep into her palms. She took a sip, the soothing flavors washing across her tongue.

She swallowed, her throat tight. “I hate to think of who would do something like this. Or if we’ll have another fire next week, next month.” The mere idea made her stomach drop. Ash reached across the table, resting a hand on top of hers.

His fingers were warm, calloused from years of firefighting. “We’ll find whoever did it,” he said. “I won’t stop until this is resolved. And… I don’t want you to face it alone.”

Eliana’s eyes glistened. She could not manage words, so she gave his hand a small squeeze, letting him know how grateful she felt. They sipped the rest of their tea. The herbal warmth spread through her body, easing the knots in her stomach and chest.

---