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I stared at her, not believing the shit that was coming out of her mouth. After the awful things I’d done to her, here she was telling me I deserved to be loved? She was on crack.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” I said, turning toward the door. “I’m sorry I broke my promise.”

“Storm!”

She called out after me, but I didn’t want to hear any more bullshit. I was done. I had to forget about Lori Walker, Callie Winslow, and whoever else wanted on the list. I had to forget and move on. Maybe I should move to another city, but what would I do for money, then? Oh, yeah, with my newfound hero title, finding work would be a breeze. What would Callie say about me, then?I won’t be anyone’s stepping-stone.

I stormed outside and kept walking. Lori didn’t follow.

I deserved to be loved? Fat fucking chance.

17

Callie

The heartbreak Twistercake went viral. Not in a salmonella poisoning way, but an Internet sensation way.

It was ironic in a way. The story of Mark and the fire had exploded after that first article, and as a result, interest in my cakes and the shop opening was a hot topic. I’d accused him of using my near-death experience as a stepping-stone, and here I was profiting off it as well.

There was nothing I could do to stop it, no matter how hard I tried to fend off messages and comments about the asshole Mark Ryder and his shady past. Once the train had left the station, someone had severed the breaks. I’d complained for years about my mediocre, lonely life, and now that something was happening, I wanted to get off. Stat. This was not how I wanted to be discovered.

So, when I got a message from Justin the firefighter asking me out for a drink, I immediately replied with a yes. Justin…well, he was normal. I needed normal. Normal was the antidote to drama, right?

We met at a bar on Brunswick Street the following Thursday. It was exactly a month after the fire and two weeks after the article about Mark broke. Which meant, it was two whole weeks since I’d seen the fighter. Our whirlwind romance had blown the roofs off the neighborhood, and now the cleanup was in progress. It was a strange notion when destruction only took seconds while the aftermath could take years to deal with. What a pain in the ass.

Justin arrived before me. He was sitting on a stool at the bar, watching the door anxiously, and when I arrived, he stood and smiled from ear to ear.

“You look beautiful,” he said, raking his gaze over me.

“Thanks.” I flushed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I was doing the awkward thing. Mark had said I did it when I was into someone, but I was beginning to believe it was a symptom of being the center of attention.

“What are you drinking?” Justin asked.

“Gin and tonic.”

I stood beside him, giving him the once-over as he placed an order with the bartender. Justin scrubbed up nice out of uniform. He was wearing a tight pair of blue jeans with his boots tucked underneath. His black shirt was buttoned up to the collar, and the arms were rolled down all the way. His hair was artfully messy. The kind of rough and ready look that probably took a good fifteen minutes to arrange each strand just so. And he was clean-shaven. Everything about him was the opposite of Mark.

Paying for our drinks, he picked them up as we scoured the little bar for a spot to sit. Finding a table among the crowd, we sat opposite one another. I perched awkwardly in the corner, nursing my bag on my lap.

“How’s the shop coming along?” Justin asked, attempting to get the conversation started.

“Good. They should be ready to start the fit out soon.”

“So back on track?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s almost back to the point I was at before the fire. I just need my oven and a fridge or two installed, and I can start using the kitchen again.”

“That’s great,” he said with a smile. “I often pass by and see tradies working in there. How are you after the fire? Have you been feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I was fine after a little oxygen. No sweat.”Apart from a few nightmares. I didn’t add that last part on account of not knowing the guy. Best way to put a dampener on a first date was to talk about the dreams where you were being burned alive. That would go down a treat.

“You ended up finding the guy?” Justin asked, bringing up the inevitable.

“Yeah. Before it was in the papers,” I replied with a shrug. “I didn’t exactly know.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Justin said with a reassuring smile. “No one did. He hasn’t given you any trouble, has he?”

“No.” I eyed him warily, sensing he wanted to go in to bat for me. It was a little too much, too soon.Calm down, I thought to myself.