On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

There's no trace of me left in the house, and very little left of my mom. It's as if we were never here." She took a moment and then added. "I never understood what my mom saw in my dad, how they ever came to fall in love, and why they stayed together. I rarely saw any love between them."
    "Did you ever ask?"
    "Yes, but my mom always told me that there were things about my father I didn't understand. She used to tell me that his love ran deep. Too deep for me to find apparently," she added with a sigh.
    "When I looked out my window earlier tonight, I remembered you and your mom working in this garden."
    "Digging in the dirt," she said with a nod. "We couldn't touch the house. My dad hated any kind of clutter or sentimental nonsense as he referred to knick knacks, but he left the garden to us, mainly because he never came out here." She paused, thinking about what Aiden had said. "You used to watch us from your window?"
    "Well, not like a stalker," he said with a wry smile. "Occasionally, I'd glance out."
    "I used to watch you and your brothers and sisters, too. Your backyard had so much action, especially after you and your dad built that fort. I thought that was the coolest thing ever."
    "It was," he agreed. "One of my best accomplishments."
    "I saw that it's still there."
    "Yes, waiting for the next generation of Callaways, although not too many of us seem in a hurry to marry or reproduce. Nicole is the only one who made it down the altar."
    "Emma told me that Nicole's son Brandon is autistic," she said, handing back the wine.
    "Yeah, it's sad. When Brandon was a baby, he was totally normal. He'd laugh and make eye contact, and I used to carry him around on my shoulders. Now Brandon acts like he never met me. To be fair, I haven't been around much the past year. It's no wonder he's forgotten who I am."
    "Emma said you live up in Redding."
    "Yes, I've been there the last three years."
    "But you don't fight fires all year long, do you?"
    "No, we take care of the forests in other ways during the off season. I also do carpentry for a local cabinet maker."
    She wasn't surprised that his off-season job had to do with building. Aiden had always liked working with his hands. She shivered, unable to believe she could still remember his hands running down her arms, his fingers grazing her breasts. God! How crazy was that. She'd had other men touch her since then, so why did she still remember him?
    She took another sip of wine. "So when are you going back?" she asked.
    "Not sure yet."
    "But you are going back, aren't you?"
    Doubt filled his eyes. "I don't know. My plans are up in the air."
    "What would you do if you weren't a smokejumper?"
    "Too many questions, Sara," he said, taking the wine bottle from her hands.
    "You always wanted to be a firefighter," she said, watching him take a drink. "Following in the family tradition."
    "Not really. Smokejumpers don't protect people, just trees, property, land. It's a step down, according to the men in my family."
    "I'm sure they don't believe that."
    He shrugged. "It doesn't matter."
    She suspected it did matter, but he'd never admit it.
    "Anyway, I can't jump fires forever," he said. "I'm getting old."
    "Thirty-two isn't old. Is your uncertainty because of what happened to Kyle?"
    "Partly." He set down the empty bottle. "We took care of that."
    "We certainly did," she said, feeling warm and a little dizzy. "Maybe we'll both be able to sleep now."
    "I haven't slept in three weeks. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever sleep again. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in the fire."
    "What happened, Aiden?"
    "I can't say."
    "You mean, you won't say," she corrected.
    He shook his head. "No, I can't remember. I fell down a mountain. When I woke up I'd lost several hours of time."
    "Does your family know that?"
    He shrugged. "I'm not sure if I mentioned it."
    "Well, maybe you should. I think they'd have more compassion if they understood that it's not that you don't want to talk, you don't actually remember what happened."
    "It doesn't matter."
    "It does matter, and now I know why you can't sleep. Your brain is trying to recreate the memories."
    "Possibly. I have a lot of recurring nightmares."
    "Isn't there anyone else who can help you fill in the blanks? You weren't alone on that mountain, were you?"
    "I talked to some of the guys, but Kyle and I were separated from everyone else. After a certain point, it was just the two of us. Anyway, we don't need to talk about that."
    "Are you sure? I