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I left the man I loved eight years ago, without even saying goodbye. But now I'm back and standing in his firehouse with a press badge. Trying to pretend that my heart isn't beating through my chest. My firefighter ex looks different. Harder. Quieter. More scars than I remember… But he still ordered my coffee with oat milk and one sugar before I even sat down. He still remembered everything. Now we’re assigned a case together to find a serial arsonist, while someone is actively trying to shut the firehouse down. His captain assigned him as my liaison, and I watched his fingers tighten around his mug. Say no , I thought… Give it to someone else. Tell them you can't. But instead, he looked straight at me and growled, "I'll do it."