Page 25 of Hex Appeal

“No, I get it.” He clears his throat. “I had my own moment of life clarity.”

“You did?”

“You know me as a local. And I am. But I actually moved away for a few years. I played ball in college. Took a finance job in the city.”

“You were a finance bro?”

“I guess I was.” He chuckles. “You seem surprised.”

“You just… you don’t seem like the type. Which I guess makes me an asshole for making assumptions.”

“No, you’re right. It wasn’t me. I didn’t hate the job, exactly. I was good at it. But…”

“It just wasn’t who you are at your core.”

“Exactly. I was a volunteer for the department in high school and on breaks during college. I never forgot about how much more natural it felt to fight fires instead of make deals. I was thinking about a career change when, well, I had my own sign of sorts.”

“You didn’t inherit a helmet and boots from a grandpa, did you?” I ask to cut through the tension.

He gives a sad smile. “Not exactly. There was a fire at my office.”

I suck in a breath.

If he notices, Welles doesn’t show it. He’s already deep in his story.

“I wasn’t there. Some college friends and I had gone skiing for a long weekend.”

Something in the way he says it makes my stomach tighten.

“The fire started after everyone left?”

He shakes his head.

Oh.

“It was late. Most people had gone home. But my boss was still there, along with a few other people.” He looks down at his hands. “From what they pieced together afterward, he got out.”

“But?”

“He went back.”

My heart sinks.

“There were still people inside. He went back for them.”

“Welles…”

“He got one person out. Went in again.” His jaw flexes. “He and two of my coworkers never came back out.”

I don’t know what to say.

There probably isn’t anything to say.

So I don’t offer him some bullshit about everything happening for a reason. I don’t tell him his boss died a hero, because I’m sure he already knows that.

I just reach across the bar and cover his hand with mine.

“I’m sorry.”