Page 4 of Let it Burn
Lena is still sitting at the table when I close her front door.
“You should change the locks, and get the window fixed. I can help. Just say the word.”
Her breath catches. For a moment, she’s quiet, staring down at the floor, her lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. Then she straightens, her voice steady but soft. “You’ve done enough already. I just… I need to sleep. I have an early shift tomorrow at the clinic.”
I study her for a beat, the stubborn set of her jaw, the quiet plea in her eyes. My hands flex at my sides, my protective instinct screaming to ignore her words and stay.
“Can I at least tape up the window for you?” I ask, my voice gentler now.
She hesitates, then nods, her voice a whisper. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”
She heads to the kitchen and hands me tape, a scissors and some cardboard.
I work quietly, taping up the jagged edges of the window, sealing the broken pane with a care that feels both absurd and necessary. My shoulders are tight, my thoughts dark, my every instinct still coiled and ready.
When I finish, I glance back at her. She stands in the doorway, her arms crossed, her lips pressed together, watching me with wide, tired eyes. She wants to be alone.
I step closer, my voice low, rough. “You’ll be okay tonight. But if anything feels wrong, let me know. No hesitation.” I write my number down on a notepad on the kitchen counter.
She nods, her voice barely audible. “I will. Thanks, Zeke.”
I give her one last long look, my hand itching to pull her in, to hold her until the fear melts away. But I don’t. I back toward the door, my pulse heavy, my jaw tight.
“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” I say softly.
Then I turn, stepping out into the quiet hallway. I wait until I hear her lock the door before I move on to my apartment.
But the thought of her alone and vulnerable echoes in my head long after I’m gone.
I don’t sleep that night. By the time I finally drag myself to the firehouse, the sky’s a dull gray, and my head’s thick with exhaustion and frustration.
The guys are already gathered in the kitchen, mugs of coffee in hand, the usual banter filling the space.
Maddox, my training partner leans back against the counter, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Look who finally decided to show his face. Rough night?”
I grunt, pouring myself a cup of coffee, the bitter liquid scalding my throat.
But it’s too late. Maddox’s smirk widens. “Heard from Jake you were playing hero last night.”
The room quiets just a beat, the guys glancing at each other before the teasing starts.
“Zeke’s got himself a damsel in distress,” one of them calls out.
“Bet he’s already planning to move into her apartment,” another adds with a laugh.
I shoot them a look, jaw ticking, but it’s Maddox who steps closer, his voice lower, the smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “C’mon, you know how it is. If you don’t joke about the messed-up shit, it really starts to get to you. What’s her story, huh?”
“I have no idea, seems she’s running from something.”
“She’s probably been through hell then.”
“Yeah, from the looks of it.” I rasp, my voice low. “She has.”
Maddox studies me for a beat, his smirk completely gone, replaced by a look I’ve seen maybe once or twice before—concern, mixed with a kind of quiet respect.
“She’s got you twisted up, man,” Maddox says quietly. “You’re walking around here like your brain’s still in her apartment.”
Before I can answer, the chief’s voice booms down the hall. “Briefing! Let’s go, ladies!”
