My Firefighter Father Chose Strangers,Now He Wants Me Back

My brow furrowed and I shook him off. "Captain Abbott, I thought I made myself clear the other day. My name is Simmons. I have nothing to do with you."

He froze, momentarily speechless.

The man beside him chose that moment to speak up. "Jennifer, if you need someone to blame for what happened back then, blame me. Don't hold a grudge against Uncle Kenneth anymore. You're family—blood relatives. There's no knot that can't be untied."

My father seemed to draw courage from those words. He sighed and nodded along. "That's right, Jennifer. We're family. Listen to your brother and come home."

Brother?

My gaze snapped to the man's face—Homer Cobb. The child who'd been chosen during that fire. The one my father had adopted afterward.

So he really had let this person fill the spot that burned away.

"I told you, I have nothing to do with any of you." The words scraped out through clenched teeth. "And don't you dare mention my brother. You don't have the right."

I reached for the door to shut it. Homer's foot shot out, jamming into the gap. He shoved hard, and the door swung open, sending me stumbling back two steps before I caught my balance.

I glared at them, fury rising. "What do you think you're doing? Breaking and entering?"

Homer didn't answer. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning my living room before dropping, his expression unreadable.

My father held out a cake box with trembling hands. "Jennifer, I know I was wrong before. Look—your brother and I bought your favorite strawberry cake. Try some."

I looked down at the small six-inch box.

It looked exactly like the one from my memories.

A faint laugh escaped me. I reached out and took it. The moment hope flickered in my father's eyes, I turned and tossed it into the trash.

"You want to know something?"

I lifted my gaze to his face, watching it drain of color. Every word came out sharp and distinct.

"What I hate most in this world is strawberry cake. It makes me sick."

"And I told you—I don't have a brother anymore. My brother died a long time ago."

Slap.

The blow came without warning, snapping my head to the side. Searing pain exploded across my cheek.

My father's hand was still shaking—whether from rage or the force of the hit, I couldn't tell. He jabbed a finger at my face, his voice thick with barely contained disappointment and venom. "How did I raise such an ungrateful animal? Now that you've latched onto money, you think you're too good for us? All these excuses—you just don't want to acknowledge me! I kept thinking about how to make it up to you. I was such a fool. You're nothing but a heartless, backstabbing ingrate!"

My cheek still stung, but I laughed.

"Make it up to me?"

I looked at him, and twenty years of hatred finally broke through. Cold words struck back, one by one. "How exactly would you do that? Can you turn back time? Bring my brother and Grandma back to life? Make it so the fire never happened?"

"When my brother and Grandma and I were trapped in that fire waiting to die—when I had a fever so high I could barely stand, when smoke tore my throat until I coughed up blood—where were you?"

"I was curled up in Grandma's arms, watching you walk past that door again and again, carrying out strangers."

"I screamed for you until my voice gave out. And what did you say? You told me to hold on a little longer. You said civilians come first."

"But the people dying in that fire were your own mother. Your own flesh and blood." My voice turned to ice. "You want to talk about ingratitude? Between the two of us—who's really the heartless one?"

His face went white. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Homer finally saw his opening. He let out a cold laugh. "Jennifer, all this talk is just you making excuses so you can sleep at night."

"I was young back then, but I remember it clearly—when they pulled you out, it was Grandma Maya and your brother shielding you with their own bodies. They died for you." His eyes narrowed. "You can't live with the guilt, so you're dumping all the blame on Uncle Kenneth. Isn't that right?"