Fighting the Fire (Warrior Fight Club 3)

With the comparison sitting uncomfortably in Dani’s gut, she got up and closed herself inside the bathroom. She couldn’t quite meet her own gaze in the mirror, which was maybe ridiculous since she hadn’t done anything to feel guilty about. Still felt guilty all the same, though.

But why in the world would Sean make her feel guilty?

Sure, they’d hooked up that one time, but that wasn’t why she was here now. And anyway, she was too old—and her field of fucks-to-give was too barren—to feel guilty over fulfilling a perfectly natural urge from time to time. Having sex didn’t make her feel guilty, because sex was just…sex. It didn’t mean that there was a relationship or a commitment or emotion. And Sean hadn’t been her first partner after Anthony.

She used the toilet, grimaced at how loud flushing sounded against the stillness of the night, then washed her hands. Finally, she looked at herself in the mirror.

Out of nowhere, a knot filled her throat and threatening tears stung the backs of her eyes.

She was lonely. God, she was so freaking lonely.

That’s what Sean covering her and leaving a light on for her made her feel. Because the last person who’d done things like that for her was her dead husband.

“No,” she whispered to herself. “No.” Dani shook her head, fisted her hands, and clenched her eyes—all to push those tears back. Tears helped exactly nothing. You couldn’t see anything while your eyes were blurred with tears—her granny taught her that. Besides, Dani had no cause to throw herself a pity party. She had a good life—friends, a fantastic job, a nice apartment, and money in the bank. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. She wasn’t particularly interested in having kids. This was the life she’d purposely created after Anthony died. And lots of other people she’d cared about were gone and no longer had any kind of life at all. She should be grateful.

Right. And she was. So.

She forced a deep, cleansing breath, pushing the last of the unusual emotions away.

Glancing at her phone told her it was now almost four thirty. She had to be at the hospital at seven and debated just going in early. The likelihood of falling back to sleep at this rate seemed slim. But it also felt weird to sneak out on Sean in the middle of the night as if she were doing some kind of walk of shame.

Whatever she decided, she was itching for a shower and a fresh set of clothes she hadn’t been wearing for going on thirty-six hours. She’d brought a set of scrubs to sleep in but had fallen asleep before changing. At least that left her clean clothes for work….

Which settled it. She was getting a shower. And if Sean didn’t wake up on his own by six, she’d leave him a note and remind him that Billy would be over some time in the morning. It was a plan—a plan that just required retrieving her duffle bag from the family room.

She turned off the bathroom light so opening the door wouldn’t shine light over the basement, and then tiptoed out into the hallway. Her bag should be right over—

“You okay, D?” Sean’s voice was a low rumble in the dark.

“Yeah. Shit, I’m sorry. I was trying not to wake you up.”

“You didn’t. A hazard of sleeping a lot of nights at the firehouse is always having one ear tuned to what’s happening around you whether you’re asleep or not.”

“You need anything?” she asked, finding her bag where she’d left it next to one of the chairs.

He didn’t respond long enough that she thought he hadn’t heard her, but then he finally murmured, “No. I’m good.”

Something in his tone didn’t sound good. “Sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t I get you some meds? It’s been at least six hours.”

“Nah, it’s bearable.”

She moved closer, as if proximity would make deciphering him easier. “You don’t need to tough this out, especially not so soon. If you’re feeling pain, you should take the meds. The more you can stay ahead of the pain the better it’ll be.”

“Watch your eyes.” It was the only warning he gave before he turned on the lamp beside him.

Dani blinked against the brightness, but her eyes adjusted quickly after being in the bathroom. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” He peered up at her with an expression that was way…softer or more open, maybe, than anything she’d ever seen him wear before.

And she didn’t know how to read it.

“Will you help me get this off?” he tugged at the rectangular pad Velcroed around his chest through which the ice water flowed.

“Yeah. Did it help?” she asked as she began removing the straps that held the plastic pad in place.

He turned a little so she could better reach his back. “I think it did. But I guess I’ll take some more meds, too. Don’t really like needing them.”