Page 58 of What Remains

Seth woke with a choked gasp.

His hand shot for the handgun beside his bedroll before his mind caught up.

Dark. Concrete. The faint orange glow of dying embers.

Not the cabin. Not Afghanistan. Not the nightmare.

His breathing came hard and fast as he sat up, every muscle locked so tight it ached. For one disorienting second, he couldn't place himself anywhere at all. Then the smell of woodsmoke grounded him.

Fire station. Colorado. The Denver run.

He dragged a hand down his face, forcing himself back into the present piece by piece.

Across the bay, the burn barrel had died down to little more than glowing coals, throwing long shadows against the brick walls. The warmth that had filled the station earlier retreated, and the cold crept back across the concrete floor as if it had only been waiting its turn..

Jay sat in a folding chair near the garage door, a rifle resting across his lap. He looked over as Seth stirred.

"You good?"

Seth cleared his throat. "Yeah."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound convinced."

"I'm fine."

Jay studied him for another second, then gave a single nod. "If you say so." He turned his attention back to the narrow window in the garage door, watching the snow drift through the darkness outside.

Seth rubbed the sleep from his eyes—if he could even call it sleep.

For months, closing his eyes had meant returning to that deep freezer. Molly. AJ. Silence. The same nightmare, playing on repeat until he'd almost come to prefer exhaustion over rest.

Tonight had been different.

His eyes drifted toward the back of Beast before he could stop them.

Layla slept curled beneath a mound of blankets, one tiny hand clutching the stuffed rabbit they'd found weeks ago. Beside her, Josie lay on her side facing her daughter, one arm draped protectively over the little girl even in sleep.

The dying firelight moved softly across Josie's face. A loose strand of dark hair had escaped whatever attempt she'd made at tying it back, falling across her cheek, and in the stillness she looked peaceful—genuinely peaceful—for what might have been the first time since he'd met her. Not the exhausted doctor. Not the terrified widow. Not the mother carrying the entire world on her shoulders and pretending it weighed nothing.

Just beautiful.

The realization hit him like a physical blow, and his stomach coiled as the dream rushed back with painful clarity.

Not Molly. Not AJ.

Josie.

He remembered every detail—the warmth of her hand in his, the sound of her laughing, the way she'd looked at him like he still counted as a whole man. It hadn't been some fleeting image that dissolved on waking, either. It had carried weight. Texture. It had seemed real enough that waking up alone actually hurt.

His jaw clenched.

Fuck.

He looked away so quickly his neck protested, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Get it together. What the hell is wrong with you?

His wife and son were dead. The two people he'd sworn to love for life were buried beneath a world that no longer cared they existed. Yet, here he sat in the dark, dreaming of another woman.