1. Zoe

Bright white lightslowly seeped into my vision as my eyes slid open, coaxing me out of the intense darkness that I had endured for… I don’t even know how long. I blinked my eyes, trying to make all of the fuzzy, blurry shapes form actual objects. After a moment, I made out a window, a chair, a television mounted on the wall, and machines.

My heart jolted as I realized that I was staring at a vital sign monitor. Its steady beep filled my ears as my wide, green eyes darted around the hospital room. An IV had been inserted into the top of my hand, and my body was now donned in a stiff hospital gown.

Oh, boy… what trouble had I gotten myself into now?

I narrowed my eyes as my brain worked to get itself up to speed, fighting through the thick haze clouding my memories. Sparks of recognition started to ignite.

The moment I stepped foot out of my car in my hometown. The pull on my gut as memories crashed over me in a breathtaking wave. The fire truck blowing past me with its lights and sirens ringing.

The fire!

I could remember the heat on my skin. The tight sensation in my chest when I heard the mother’s screams. The lack of breath when I watched those firefighters rush in and out of that house without hesitance. Then, there was the lightheaded sensation that I felt before everything went black.

I swallowed hard as I dropped back against the stack of stiff pillows on my hospital bed, immediately feeling a sharp pain in my side. With a grimace, I pressed my hand against my bruised ribs, my forehead and palms clamming up from the pain. What a welcome back home.

I wasn’t here for a typical hometown visit, though, because that fire wasn’t just a run of the mill fire. Not according to the serial arson story I was working on for The Blue Ridge Times back in my new home in North Carolina miles and miles away. As if this little town in Nevada didn’t have enough drama and baggage for me.

“Focus up,” I muttered to myself, steeling my face and muffling my thoughts as they threatened to drift to the past. It was bad enough that I was in the same hospital where it had all happened.

But I wasn’t going to think about the worst moment in my life right now because I had a job to do. A job that I left behind my hometown for years ago. If I failed, I failed her, and I refused to be anything less than she’d hoped for me.

When I first heard about the arson case and realized it was here in Rockview, it felt like some sort of odd sign. I hadn’t been back in years because even the air felt like it weighed down on me, and the memories threatened to finish the job by crushing me.

But I was a journalist. I faced tough situations and problems head-on, and this could be the best story I ever wrote. I had a leg-up because I knew this town, and no other writer was going to take this case more seriously than me.

Besides… I couldn’t hide away forever, right? There was nothing wrong with the town and its close-knit group of people who offered constant comfort and support whenever I was growing up here, and I could stand to visit my dad, who I hadn’t seen since I left.

What a way to hit two birds with one stone.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

I snapped out of my thoughts and turned my head to see a middle-aged, brown-haired nurse approach me.

“I’m pretty sure I passed out,” I told her, my heart starting to pound as I remembered the world spinning all around me before going black. I swore I was dying for a second.

The nurse checked my chart and then my vitals before pitching me a friendly smile.

“You’d be correct. You experienced extreme stress and fainted,” the nurse replied. “The fire chief saw you fall and had you transported here.”

The fire chief. I thought hard, trying to remember if I saw him or not. I remembered watching quite a few firefighters running back and forth and being in awe of their bravery. But a man’s deep, commanding voice broke into my mind, reminding me of the man who was calling the shots. The man who saved me.

“Please tell me I was only out for thirty minutes and not a day,” I said with a grimace, my body tensing as I prepared for the answer.

“Don’t worry. You’ve only been here for about an hour,” the nurse said with a light laugh.

Oh, thank goodness. I released a relieved breath. I already had to pitch this story to my boss like my life depended on it for it to even be approved, and missing a whole day of work right off the bat wouldn’t be a very good look for me.

“Is my phone in here?” I asked her as I glanced around, figuring there were still messages and missed calls to return.

The nurse nodded and walked over to a small table that had a plastic bag full of my clothes and belongings. She carried it over to me.

“I’ll have the doctor come by soon to check on you one more time. After that, you should be discharged,” she told me.

“Perfect. Thank you,” I said before digging around in the bag to pull out my phone. As expected, I had a few missed notifications from my boss. With a grimace, I quickly hit his name in my call log to call him back.

After a few rings, there was a crackle before Zachary Fields’ voice filled my ear.

“Zoe! You went MIA on me,” he exclaimed.

“I know. I’m sorry. Literally, a few hours after I got into town, there was a house fire, and I rushed to get on scene,” I explained as I shifted to sit up straighter. Pain struck the back of my left shoulder and my ribs, making me wince. I must’ve hit the ground hard when I passed out.

“Wow. Talk about meant to be, right? See anything suspicious? Creepy dude in a hoodie? Signs of intent?” Zachary replied with eager energy in his tone. He was more than a decade older than me, but he had the energetic nature of someone in their twenties.

Oh, damn it. I could barely recall a thing. When I stood in front of that burning house, the woman’s screams of terror ringing in my ears, I wasn’t mentally there on the scene. I was stuck three years ago in the past staring tear-eyed at the devastating scene of my mom’s car crushed in on her side. And it was my screams I could hear.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. No, no! I couldn’t think about that right now. I couldn’t think about my mom and her warm, dazzling demeanor that reminded me of a sunny summer day. I couldn’t think about how she hugged me so tightly that I couldn’t breathe when I won a writing contest in high school. And I especially couldn’t think about my dad crying over her closed casket because she was too bruised and broken to be viewed at her own funeral.

Emptiness filled my chest, my lungs aching from a lack of air. I put my phone on mute and sucked in a weak breath, my next exhale coming out shakily.

“Stop it,” I breathed out, chastising myself as I had done hundreds of times before when the thought of her threatened to stop my heart.

Right now, I wasn’t Zoe, the devastated girl who lost her mother to an unsolved hit-and-run that had killed her instantly. I was Zoe, the journalist who did everything she could to fight her way through the pain of her past. I couldn’t be someone different right now. Not here.

“I got there midway through, so I missed the start. I’ll be quicker next time, though,” I told him once I’d unmuted myself and caught my breath. I didn’t want to tell him about the whole passing out thing because he wouldn’t believe that I was cut out for this story.

“I need you to be on this, Zoe. You said you could do more over there than here, so I’m relying on you to bring back something good,” Zachary replied.

“I’ll bring back the best story I’ve ever written,” I promised him, forcing my voice to strengthen. I couldn’t risk him doubting me, and I had to be stronger. I just had to be.

“That’s what I want to hear! I’ll let you get back to it,” Zachary cheered, hanging up before I could even say goodbye.

I needed to get going soon. Where was the doctor? I impatiently shifted in bed, ready to get out of here and hit the ground running. It had taken me years to convince myself to come back here. Now that I was here, I was going to make the most of my time and write an incredible story that my mom would’ve been proud of.

Because if I was honest with myself, I wasn’t strong enough to grieve again.

When I heard approaching footsteps, my head snapped toward the door, anticipation eating away at me. A second later, there was a knock, and relief flooded through me. Finally.

But the doctor didn’t step inside. Not that I knew what he looked like, but I fully remembered the face of the man who just walked into my room. The face of a man who I thought I wouldn’t ever see again.