Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Asha had spent the night tossing and turning, her thoughts a tangled mess of worry and longing. The stress of the past few days—the fire, her parents’ fragile health, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead—was more than enough to keep her awake. But it wasn’t only that. Reconnecting with Zane, feeling that magnetic attraction to him after all these years, left her restless in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. Her body ached with a need she hadn’t felt in longer than she cared to admit, the memory of his touch and the intensity of his gaze haunting her as the hours dragged on.
Not one to wallow, she had risen before dawn, determined to channel her frustration into productivity. She cleaned out the bedrooms, stripped the sheets, and tossed a load of laundry into the washing machine before the first rays of sunlight broke through the kitchen window. By the time she settled with a mug of black coffee, the house felt somewhat more manageable, even if her thoughts didn’t.
After checking the clock, she decided it wasn’t too early to call the hospital. Asha drew a steadying breath, picked up her phone, and dialed, hoping for good news.
The line rang twice before a cheerful woman answered. “Good morning, this is St. Mary’s Hospital. How can I help you?”
“This is Asha Williams,” she said, gripping the edge of the countertop. “I’m calling to check on my parents—Harold and Margaret Williams.”
“One moment, please.” The nurse was calm, professional, and a little too chipper for the hour. Asha heard the faint shuffle of papers and the muffled sounds of a busy station in the background. Her stomach tightened, the waiting always the hardest part.
Eventually, the nurse returned. “Ah, yes, your mother had a very restful night. She’s progressing well and will likely be ready to transfer to the rehab facility in a few days.”
Asha sighed in relief, and the tension in her shoulders eased a fraction as the nurse continued. “The doctors are happy with her progress. She’s still a bit uncomfortable, of course, but that’s expected after surgery. We’re keeping her on a light pain regimen to help her rest.”
Asha’s grip on the counter loosened, her fingers tingling as blood flow returned. “And my dad?”
After a slight pause the nurse spoke again, her voice shifting to a softer tone. “He’s doing well, too. His oxygen levels have been stable overnight, and if that continues through today, the doctors plan to discharge him tomorrow.”
Relief flooded through Asha, momentarily dulling the weight she’d been carrying. “Thank you,” she said, quieter than she intended.
After the call ended, Asha stood by the counter, still holding her phone. For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe—a little. Her mom was recovering, her dad would be home soon, and things might be okay.
She set down the phone and turned toward the kitchen, sweeping her gaze over the room. There was still so much to do. The new stove wouldn’t arrive for three days, but at least the fridge was packed with casseroles and soups from the neighbors. A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought of Mrs. Colette’s peanut butter brownies, neatly wrapped in foil with a note of encouragement tucked on top.
The neighbors in Peaceful always came through. Even after all these years, some things hadn’t changed.
She crossed to the dining table, where a list of tasks she’d scribbled the night before sat waiting. Clean the house. Prepare the bedrooms. Replace the smoke-scented curtains in the living room. The list was endless, but it gave her direction.
Just as she picked up a pen to add another item, a distant wail broke the quiet morning. Asha froze, her hand hovering above the paper as the sound grew louder. Sirens.
She moved to the window, her pulse quickening as the firetruck barreled down the street, its lights flashing. Her breath hitched. Zane.
She curled her fingers around the windowsill as she watched the truck disappear around the corner, the sirens fading into the distance. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to push back the wave of worry that surged through her.
Her mind drifted to Zane’s face—the sharp determination in his eyes, the steady way he carried himself, even in the chaos of the hospital and her home. He wasn’t merely a firefighter; he was a rock, unshaken by the flames and destruction he faced daily.
“Godspeed,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the words carried the weight of her unspoken fears.
As the sirens faded into the distance, Asha leaned against the windowsill, the cool glass pressing into her fingertips. Her chest felt tight, the emotions too messy to name swirling inside her. She pressed her lips together, trying to push the thoughts of Zane away, but they clung stubbornly.
This wasn’t why she’d come back. She wasn’t planning to stay. Once her parents were stable, she’d go back to her life—the life she’d built far away from Peaceful, far away from the memories that still had the power to cut too deep.
Her problems with this town—no, with a person in this town—hadn’t magically disappeared simply because Zane had reappeared in her life. She couldn’t let herself get tangled up in him again. Not when she knew how it would end.
She couldn’t hurt Zane again.
She tightened her fingers on the windowsill, as if clinging to that thought would steady her, but the ache in her chest didn’t ease. Because, god, how she wanted to let go. Just for a moment. To burrow into his arms, feel the strength of his embrace, and let him carry the weight she’d been holding for so long.
But that wasn’t an option. Not then, not now, not ever.
Asha pushed away from the window, shaking her head as if it would dislodge the longing that had settled deep in her bones. She turned back to the kitchen and picked up the pen, forcing her focus back to the list in front of her.
Distance. That was what she needed.
Even as her heart whispered how much she wanted the opposite.
For a moment, she stood there, staring at the empty street, her thoughts a tangle of concern and something deeper. Zane had been a constant in her life over the past few days, stepping in without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.