“I thought I lost this in the fire,” I whispered, running a gentle finger over our smiling faces.
“I went to the house and dug around through the rubble, and it was there. Still in one piece. The clasp was broken and it was covered in soot, so I had it cleaned up at the jewelers.”
“You have no idea how much this means to me,” I said, gripping the necklace in my hand. It was like that piece of her I thought I lost, the piece I’d been grieving since the night of the fire, was back. Now I had this and her letter to Tony (I still wasn’t ready to think of him as my father) to remember her by.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Holt. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, pulling back and wiping away a stray tear on my cheek.
“For what?”
“For withstanding the heat. For fighting for your life. Because without you, everything in my life would be cold.”
I smiled. “You don’t ever have to worry about that. There will always be a fire burning between us.”
And there was.