Without warning, I get a flash of a book cover. Owen and me in each other’s arms, him wearing his fireman’s coat with no shirt, me with my hair askew, one arm draped around his neck and the other arm alluringly arched downward with a book in one hand, and we’re both set in the foreground of a house ablaze. The title, in a script-y but readable font, reads Forge of the Heart. I burst out laughing and clap my hands over my mouth. It’s a horrible title. He looks over at me, completely confused. “You. . .okay?” I try not to giggle. “Yeah, I’m just. . .it’s fine. I’m fine. Just remembered something
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