Intertwined

chapter one

HER HEART WAS in his hands.

It always had been, but for the first time, he handed his to her with the same conviction. The same sureness that she'd hold it in her hands and protect it forever. There was no coming back from her, she had become it. His forever.

He spent most of his life certain no one would ever have the power to break through his walls, show him it's okay to be cared for, to free fall without the worry of not being caught. It was the most scared he had ever been, and yet, she was worth every second of fear he may ever feel.

He gave her the power to break him, and he'd do it over and over again for the chance to see that smile on her face for one more second. She was worth absolutely everything.

Even the beating heart in his chest.

A grin curls up on my lips as I drag my fingers along the bottom line, greeting my heart in absolute warmth. My bubble quickly burst by a loud ringing as it overwhelms the four walls of my office. I shift in my seat with a groan at the sound, watching as my coworkers part from their desks and offices at the warning alarm. With a sigh, I push back from desk and cross towards my door, pulling it open to find everyone heading to the front entrance.

"Come on, Emmy," Kayla, my college roommate and boss says, crossing the concrete floor from her office towards me. She has a clipboard hugged tightly to her chest, likely the checklist for everyone that works here.

"Go ahead," I tell her. "I'll be right there."

"Em." She eyes me with a warning look. "Fire or not, we have to go outside."

"And I'll be right there. I just need to grab my phone."

She levels me with the same look, but instead of arguing, heads in the direction of everyone else. I listen to the click of her heels as they grow quieter before crossing to my desk and sinking back into my office chair. It's the fifth time in the last month that the fire alarm has gone off, and each time it's been a false alarm. Our downstairs neighbor more than likely burning something again, causing the whole building's alarm to go off.

Until there's an actual fire engulfing my office, I'm not leaving. Alarm be damned.

Reaching for the highlighter from the acyclic pencil holder on the corner of my desk, I pick the cap off with my teeth and run it along the top line before grabbing my blue ball point pen to write my comment down. With a satisfying click, I press my thumb against the top of the cap and let my eyes fall to the next line, waiting for the inevitable.

"Trouble."

The gravel in his voice sends a chill down my back. I lift my gaze up from the spot in my manuscript, biting back the venom in my smile at the sight of the familiar firefighter standing in full gear in my office doorway. This seems all too familiar now. Me and him. After four runs in, all thanks to the stupid alarm that won't stop going off, it's beginning to become habit for us and I can tell by the ice in his blue gaze that he's just as over it as I am.

"We're not doing this again."

"Doing what?" I ask, crossing my arms across my desk.

"Trouble."

"Emmy," I correct him. "Is there a fire?"

"No," he says, taking a step into my office. The rubber sole of his boot squeaks against the shiny concrete floor as he comes to a stop at the front of my desk.

"A threat to my life?"

"No, but it's protocol," he argues. "Which you know, because we had this exact conversation the last time I was here."