On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

Aiden in the face. I think his name was Hawkins."
    Emma's lips tightened. "Ray Hawkins. His cousin was on the fire with Aiden and Kyle, and I don't think he was ever a fan of Aiden's. I suspect he's responsible for a lot of the negative rumors. Not that I know for sure Aiden didn't do something wrong. He can push the envelope."
    "Yes, he can," she muttered.
    Emma gave her a curious look. "Okay. I've been wondering for more than a decade. It's time to talk. What happened between you two?"
    "Nothing," she said quickly.
    "You said that before, but I didn't believe you then, and I don't believe you now. You had a huge crush on him when we were in high school, and right before we graduated –"
    "I had a crush on a lot of people," she said, cutting Emma off.
    "Not like that one. Maybe I should just ask Aiden what went down."
    "He'll tell you the same thing," she replied, hoping that was true.
    "We'll see." Emma got to her feet.
    "Wait. You're not going to ask him now, are you?" she asked worriedly.
    Emma laughed. "I should, because your face is all red and that's a sure sign that you're lying. But actually, I was just going to ask him to fix your front door. I don't think Colton is around, and I'm sure you don't want to leave the door open all night."
    "I don't want to bother Aiden," she protested. "He's having as bad a day as me. Maybe I can do it myself."
    "You?" Emma asked doubtfully.
    "Okay, maybe not me," she agreed. Her handyman skills were non-existent. "But I'm sure I can call someone."
    "Yeah, we can call Aiden."
    Sara followed Emma out the side door. As they turned toward the garage, they heard the sound of hammering. Aiden was already at work on the front door. She was surprised. After the scene she'd witnessed between him and his brother, she couldn't believe her front door was on his mind.
    "I was just going to ask you to take care of this," Emma said as they reached Aiden.
    "Figured Sara wouldn't want this open all night," he said briskly.
    "Thanks," she said.
    An awkward silence followed her words and then Emma's phone buzzed.
    She pulled it out and checked the screen. "Oh, no. There's a fire at St. Andrew's school. I've got to run. I'll come by tomorrow, Sara, and try to help you with the mess."
    "If you have time," she said.
    "I'll make time."
    "I hope the fire isn't too bad." Sara sniffed, realizing that the smell of smoke in the air was no longer coming just from her house, and that the sirens were getting louder and longer. St. Andrew's school was less than a mile away. "That doesn't sound good," she said to Aiden.
    "No," he replied, his attention on the door.
    With Emma gone, the silence between them grew uncomfortable. She couldn't go inside while Aiden was fiddling with the door, so she had to wait.
    "You're going to need a new door, but this should hold for tonight," he said finally, stepping back to review his work.
    "Thanks." As he turned his face into the light, she saw the dark purple bruise on his cheekbone. "How's your face?" she asked.
    "It's fine. Nothing for you to worry about."
    "You don't need to snap at me. I'm not the one who hit you. I don't even know what you did or what everyone thinks you did."
    Aiden ran a hand through his hair. "You're right. Sorry."
    "Aiden…" she began, not really sure where she wanted to go with her words, but she felt compelled to say something.
    "What?" he asked, his tone not at all encouraging.
    "You saved my dad's life earlier, and I'm thankful."
    A shadow flashed through his eyes. "You made the mistake of thinking I was a hero once before, Sara. Don't do it again."
    Her jaw dropped, but before she could say anything, he was halfway across the lawn.
    Maybe it was better that way, because he'd only said aloud what she'd been telling herself all night. This time they were on the same page.

Chapter Five

    Emma felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as she pulled up in front of St. Andrew's Elementary School. She'd been responding to fires for seven years, but she still felt a sense of amazement every time she saw the flames, felt the heat, smelled the smoke. Not that she'd ever share that information with anyone. She'd fought too hard and too long to earn the respect of her fellow firefighters to act like a "girl."
    She couldn't afford any show of emotion when she was on a job, and for the most part she managed to contain herself, but some scenes, like this one, felt personal. She'd spent nine years at St. Andrews from Kindergarten to eighth grade. This school