“The last time I was here, I walked into that bay,” Taber rasped, knowing Deacon stood close by—close enough Taber could feel his body heat. “Like it was just another shift. I’d clock in, fight the fires, save the day, hang out with the guys, and then go home.” Gutted. That was what he felt like. A piece of him had been lost.
He took a shuddering breath, hanging his head. Deacon’s hands settled on his shoulders, and the comfort nearly broke him.
~ Above is an excerpt from Driven by Fire (Firehouse Six, Book #4).
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