Page 9 of Undeniably Perfect

A firefighter walks over to us. “Miss?”

Tabitha looks up at him.

“We have your property secured. I can escort you inside if you’d like to get some things.”

She nods and I follow her. The smell of smoke is thick as we enter the building. Firefighters in their gear walk past us as we take the stairs up to the third floor. The smell grows with each step we take. I wonder how these guys breathe even after the fire is put out. The door to her unit is open. She freezes in the doorway, and I nearly run her over.

I’m about to say something when my eyes follow her gaze. Well, shit. Clearly, the fire started in her studio. Besides the phenomenal amount of water damage, the photographs I had admired earlier are all but gone and her equipment is…not salvageable.

“Fuck,” I hear her mutter.

I put my hands on her shoulders and squeeze. “You OK?”

She shakes her head. “Nope,” she says dryly.

I want to smack my forehead. Of course, she’s not OK, asshat. Her place of business and home are destroyed.

She slowly walks inside. “We think the fire started over here,” the man says as he points to what looks like charred...I don’t even know.

She nods. “And the apartment?”

He gives her a sympathetic look. “It’s not livable right now. I am sorry.”

She walks past him and through a door. I follow and realize that she has a small studio apartment in the back. The wall between them is charred and small patches of light shine through. She walks to the far side of the room, past a small galley kitchen and eating area, and a sofa and a burnt...bed, I think. She opens a small door and sighs. Her closet. I lean over her head and look into the small walk-in closet. The clothes aren’t burnt, but they are wet.

She sighs again and grabs a suitcase in the corner. Fortunately, it’s made of plastic and hasn’t melted. She throws some wet clothes into it and two plastic shoebox-sized bins that look to hold photos.

“You can come back tomorrow. Here’s the fire chief’s card,” the man says, holding out a business card to her.

She nods. “Any idea what started the fire?”

He shakes his head. “There will be a full investigation and report on it. You’ll get a copy once it’s done.”

“Come on,” I say as I place a hand on her arm. She follows me, letting me lead her back out of the ruins that were once her home. I help her place the suitcase in my car.

We drive in silence. I don’t even turn on the radio. This day has not gone as planned. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes to get to my apartment. I pull into my reserved spot in the garage. I note Amery’s car is here. Amery’s one of my best friends and a former player who now scouts for the team.

I grab Tabitha’s suitcase, and she follows me as we get into the elevator. It dings on floor ten. There are only four units per floor. Something I liked about the building. My floor consists of old Mrs. Thomas, who likes to watch ball games from the rooftop patio, Ken Yeong a techie young guy, and Brad and Missy Henson, both lobbyists. I open my door and hold out my hand.

“After you.”

“Thanks.”

Tabitha walks inside. I can see her sizing up the place. It’s not huge like my house. This is a practical apartment. It has an open-concept living, dining, and kitchen area, a den, bathroom, and bedroom. It does have a nice balcony though and giant windows and tall ceilings that help it feel bigger than the nine hundred square feet that it is.

“Here, my den has a pullout bed,” I say to her as I walk down the hallway. Opening the door, I set her suitcase down before walking into the bathroom in the hallway that connects to my room. “There’s a washer and dryer in here if you want to wash your clothes. There’s a drugstore next door if you need any toiletries or anything else. And you can use the extra set of keys on the hook by the front door.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re serious.”

I frown. “Serious about what?”

“You’re just going to let me stay here? A perfect stranger.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t just find you on the side of the road.” I can’t explain that I come from a family that takes in strays. We’ve had at least three different friends of my siblings spend time living with us when their home life went to shit, plus when my cousin was having issues with his parents, he spent a summer at our house. And don’t get me started on the four-legged strays that made their home with the Moore clan.

My phone buzzes again, and I know I need to leave. I feel awful leaving her like this. “Listen, I need to get to practice. Do you need anything else right now?”

She looks lost as she scans her surroundings again. “Do you have a computer I can use? I back up all my files to a cloud.” I nod and motion to my laptop that’s sitting on the kitchen bar top.

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