and his anguish sometimes felt as raw as if the fire had happened yesterday.
The shout of a scored goal jolted Trent from his unwanted memories. He straightened from the railing to head to the fish and chip shop when he spotted Izzy standing on the tumble of rocks at the far side of the beach. Hunkered down, she held her camera to her face with the lens turned to the sea. He followed her line of sight to where she photographed.
The day had been unseasonably gray and the ocean showed its disproval. Waves churned, the sea dark and moody. Now that he’d seen her, the ocean echoed the torment inside him. Should he try to talk to her? Or leave her to work?
She lowered the camera and let it hang on the strap around her neck as she stared into the distance. Even from this far away, the high set of her shoulders and her immobilized stance showed her misery. The need to comfort her lurched in Trent’s chest.
As if she sensed him watching her, she slowly faced him.
He pulled back his shoulders and met her gaze.
She stood still awhile longer before she lifted the camera to her face and aimed the lens directly at him. He fought the need to smile or pull a face to make her laugh, as he would have before Robbie died. Helplessness writhed inside him. What did she want from him in that moment? He had no idea. Not anymore.
Once upon a time, he’d thought Robbie, being Izzy’s brother, had been the obstacle keeping him and Izzy apart, but it hadn’t taken long for Robbie to give Trent the go-ahead to ask out his sister. Little did Trent know how much of a flirt Izzy thought him, rebuking his advances at every turn. Yet now it wasn’t other women keeping Izzy from him, but his firefighting.
How was he supposed to make her understand how Aimee’s death brought forth a need so ingrained and painful inside him that he didn’t know what else to do with his life but fight what killed his sister? Could he ever give up that fight? He very much doubted it.
She carefully climbed down the rocks, one hand steadying her as she made her slow descent. Trent waited, needing to know she was safe on the sand before he could leave.
He wanted to protect his family and loved ones—to never fail someone again as he’d failed his baby sister. In Izzy, he saw his future. Why her, he wasn’t sure he could ever explain, but she mattered. Deeply.
Yet with every day that passed, she slipped further away from him and he wished it didn’t hurt so much.
He briefly closed his eyes before opening them again, ready to walk on. Walk away. He glanced in her direction one last time as she leaped from the final rock, her hand protectively clasped around the camera at her breasts. Looking up, she held up a finger toward him as though asking him to wait for her. Surprise turned to pathetic relief as she jogged across the sand, her long blond hair swinging back and forth in its ponytail. As she got closer, the more Trent tensed.
It had been over a week since he saw her. The beach party was a bigger disaster than he could ever have anticipated.
She came up the steps toward him, tucking some fallen hair behind her ear. He noted the way she tried to give him a smile, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Hi.”
He pushed his hands into the pockets of his work trousers. “Hi.”
Slightly out of breath, she exhaled through pursed lips. “I think I owe you an apology.”
She might as well have said she loved him. The pleasure that jolted through him probably wouldn’t have been any less powerful. He dragged his gaze from hers to look blindly toward a spot over her shoulder. “For what?”
“For the way I spoke to you at the beach last week.” She sighed. “Won’t you at least look at me? You know apologizing doesn’t exactly come as second nature to me.”
He turned. The trepidation and pleading in her gaze teemed with the blush at her cheeks, tugging at his chest. “I get it, Iz. It’s fine.”
“What do you get?”
“You need to blame me for Robbie’s death. You’ll only ever look at me and see a firefighter now. The man who couldn’t save your brother. You’ll never see just me. A guy who really likes you.”
The shouts from the teenagers on the beach, the passing traffic and the odd screech of a seagull punctured the silence. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Guilt pressed down on him. The last thing he wanted was to add to her pain. He touched a finger to her chin. “Hey.” He winked. “I can’t be irresistible to every woman in the Cove, can I?” Her smile was slow in coming, but when it did, the sight of it pushed the air from Trent’s lungs. “Apology accepted, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He glanced toward the row of shops on the opposite side of the road. “I was going to grab some fish and chips. Do you want to join me?”
Hesitation flashed in her eyes before she nodded. “Okay. Could we take them back to my studio? I want to show you something.”
“Sure.”
They walked side by side and Trent fought the need to take her hand, instead fisting his fingers in his pockets.
Twenty minutes later, Trent walked into Izzy’s studio behind her, their wrapped fish and chips in his hands along with two cans of soda. “Do you have plates or shall we eat these straight from the paper?”
“From the paper, of course.” She raised an eyebrow as she shut the door. “You disappoint me. I’ll go as far as providing knives and forks, but that’s it.”
He laughed and stared at her denim-clad ass as she threw the lock in place and checked the sign was turned to Closed. Anticipation churned with the rumbling in his stomach. Her wanting to be alone—and undisturbed—with him could only be a good thing.
He inwardly berated himself as he carried their food over to her workstation. She pushed aside some papers and then walked over to the corner of the room, where she plucked a plaid blanket from the floor. “I used this for a shoot earlier, so it needs washing anyway. It can be our makeshift tablecloth.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She lifted the blanket and covered half of the enormous worktop before pulling two stools to either side. He slid onto one as she walked to the kitchen at the back of the studio. As sounds of a drawer opening, cutlery clattering and then the drawer slamming shut filtered through the open door, Trent tried to figure out the best way to play out the next minutes, or maybe hours, he’d spend with her.
His friends’ warnings about his distraction on the job poked at his conscience, along with the way everyone but Izzy believed they were meant for one another. He couldn’t keep pushing her. For his own self-preservation, he had to back off and be the friend she needed.
The soft scent of her perfume floated across the room as she emerged from the kitchen. Awareness lifted the hairs on his arms as Trent concentrated on unwrapping their meal. The aroma of fresh, battered fish and fried chips filled the studio and they both gave an appreciative, unified sigh.
They laughed and Trent’s gut wrenched at the fleeting sight of undisguised joy in her eyes. She plucked up a chip. “So, how was your day?” She popped the chip into her mouth. “Anything interesting happen?”
“Nope. It was one of the quiet days firefighters are grateful for.”
“Really?” Her bright blue eyes scrutinized him as though she suspected him of lying. “Do you really mean that? You’re grateful for the quiet days?”
His appetite wavered as the feeling he was being tested pressed down on him. “Of course. We don’t relish the idea of running into a burning building or rescuing people trapped inside a mangled car. It comes with the job...and I hope you understand now why I took the job.”
The skin at her neck moved as she swallowed. “Your sister.”
“Yes. Aimee.” Trent cut into his fish and