Page 16 of Her Ohio Old Flame

He lingered on her for a moment, watching as she scrubbed at the counter with short, sharp motions. There was something so familiar in the way she buried herself in tasks, like if she worked hard enough, she could scrub the cracks in her armor clean.

But those cracks were there—he could see them—and they made him want to reach out, to steady her, to remind her she didn’t have to carry everything alone.

Instead, he shifted his focus to the floor beneath the stove, where faint scorch marks were still visible, even after her relentless cleaning. He crouched, running his fingers over the edges of the linoleum. The motion was quick, precise—a practiced ease from years of dealing with the aftermath of fires. The floorboards were charred on the surface but solid underneath. Relief flickered in him.

At least something was holding steady.

But as he rose and turned back to Asha, that relief faded. She was still standing there, her arms crossed, her gaze darting between him and the floor, as if she was bracing for his next move.

She wasn’t simply standing on solid floorboards—she was holding up walls. Thick, immovable walls.

Zane studied her, his frustration growing. There was something she wasn’t telling him, something she was holding onto with the same stubbornness she’d always had. But this time, it wasn’t the carefree, headstrong girl he remembered. This was a woman who carried a burden too heavy to share, and itmade his chest ache. She was more layered, complicated, and guarded. And it made him want to dig deeper.

If it was only his physical reaction to her, he could ignore it. He wasn’t a kid anymore; he knew how to keep his impulses in check. But it wasn’t that. It was the way she moved through the room, strong and resilient, but with cracks beneath the surface. He was drawn to her strength, to the quiet fire she carried now. And he was determined to find the vulnerable soul she kept hidden behind her walls.

What had happened to his carefree, beautiful girl? The one who’d laughed with him on prom night, who’d made him feel invincible before she broke his heart? Her answers about leaving Peaceful were too polished, too rehearsed, like walls she’d built with brick and mortar, solid as the stone foundation of a Civil War fort. Zane could see the fractures, but she wasn’t about to let him in.

Where was the girl he’d wanted to grow old with when he wasn’t even old enough to legally order a beer in Ohio? That girl was still there—he was sure of it—but she was buried beneath something heavy.

He knew when to push and when to wait. That was part of the job, both as a firefighter and as a man who’d spent his life reading people. A wildfire didn’t respond to brute force; it required patience, strategy, and knowing when to act. And Asha? She was her own wildfire—beautiful and unpredictable, capable of burning everything around her if approached the wrong way.

As with a wildfire, he knew better than to rush in blindly. Act, yes—but with care and purpose.

As she stood so close, her shampoo and the faint scent of cleaning products lingered in the air between them. There was a trace of sweet, clean sweat beneath it all, and it made him wantto close the distance between them and kiss her until she let go of whatever was keeping her from him.

Zane held back. This wasn’t the time to act on impulse. As with the fires he fought, his emotions couldn’t get in the way of common sense.

He knew what he needed to do. He’d insert himself into her life, whether she liked it or not. Be steady. Be there. Shower her with kindness and attention until she let him in.

Because once she opened to him, he’d get the answers he was looking for—and maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to put the past to rest after all those years.

Chapter Eight

Asha had spent the night tossing and turning, her thoughts a tangled mess of worry and longing. The stress of the past few days—the fire, her parents’ fragile health, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead—was more than enough to keep her awake. But it wasn’t only that. Reconnecting with Zane, feeling that magnetic attraction to him after all these years, left her restless in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. Her body ached with a need she hadn’t felt in longer than she cared to admit, the memory of his touch and the intensity of his gaze haunting her as the hours dragged on.

Not one to wallow, she had risen before dawn, determined to channel her frustration into productivity. She cleaned out the bedrooms, stripped the sheets, and tossed a load of laundry into the washing machine before the first rays of sunlight broke through the kitchen window. By the time she settled with a mug of black coffee, the house felt somewhat more manageable, even if her thoughts didn’t.

After checking the clock, she decided it wasn’t too early to call the hospital. Asha drew a steadying breath, picked up her phone, and dialed, hoping for good news.

The line rang twice before a cheerful woman answered. “Good morning, this is St. Mary’s Hospital. How can I help you?”

“This is Asha Williams,” she said, gripping the edge of the countertop. “I’m calling to check on my parents—Harold and Margaret Williams.”

“One moment, please.” The nurse was calm, professional, and a little too chipper for the hour. Asha heard the faint shuffle of papers and the muffled sounds of a busy station in the background. Her stomach tightened, the waiting always the hardest part.

Eventually, the nurse returned. “Ah, yes, your mother had a very restful night. She’s progressing well and will likely be ready to transfer to the rehab facility in a few days.”

Asha sighed in relief, and the tension in her shoulders eased a fraction as the nurse continued. “The doctors are happy with her progress. She’s still a bit uncomfortable, of course, but that’s expected after surgery. We’re keeping her on a light pain regimen to help her rest.”

Asha’s grip on the counter loosened, her fingers tingling as blood flow returned. “And my dad?”

After a slight pause the nurse spoke again, her voice shifting to a softer tone. “He’s doing well, too. His oxygen levels have been stable overnight, and if that continues through today, the doctors plan to discharge him tomorrow.”

Relief flooded through Asha, momentarily dulling the weight she’d been carrying. “Thank you,” she said, quieter than she intended.

After the call ended, Asha stood by the counter, still holding her phone. For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe—a little. Her mom was recovering, her dad would be home soon, and things might be okay.

She set down the phone and turned toward the kitchen, sweeping her gaze over the room. There was still so much to do.The new stove wouldn’t arrive for three days, but at least the fridge was packed with casseroles and soups from the neighbors. A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought of Mrs. Colette’s peanut butter brownies, neatly wrapped in foil with a note of encouragement tucked on top.

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