He drew in a steadying breath. His hospital-assigned therapist had told him he should talk about it, but that was easier said than done. “I just haven’t returned to work yet.”

“Look at me.” He raised his gaze, meeting his aunt’s straight on. She studied him. “Are you having complications from your injuries?”

He shook his head. “Physically I’m fine.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

That wasn’t quite the truth. There was a lot he was leaving out, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it with her or anyone else. Not yet. The therapist had also said that until he was willing to talk about it, the nightmares would persist.

“You can’t hide from life.”

“I’m not.” His voice was firm.

Her insightful gaze continued to study him. “You’re strong. Perhaps stronger than you think. Sometimes the best intentions can lead us down the wrong path in life. It’s not a weakness to turn and follow a new path.”

He glanced down at the white tiled floor. He didn’t know what to say. What was she trying to tell him? That she didn’t want him there? Or was she talking about him taking time off from the fire department?

He cleared his throat. “I’d much rather talk about you—”

“What about your girlfriend? She must miss you.”

He kept his gaze lowered. “You don’t have to worry about that. We broke up.”

“Ethan, I’m so sorry.”

He raised his gaze to meet hers. “Don’t be. It wasn’t meant to be.”

“I see.” She grew quiet, as though considering all of this information. “So tell me what is happening in Bluestar.”

With the change of subject, he breathed easier. “Now that you mention it, something happened in town.” He leaned back in the chair. “It’s why I was late today.”

Her eyes widened as she sat up a bit straighter. “Tell me no one got hurt.”

“Everyone is fine. The bakery, on the other hand, isn’t doing so well.” He couldn’t help wondering how Hannah was making out now that the shock had passed.

Aunt Birdie set aside her knitting, giving him her full attention. “How horrible. What happened?”

And so he regaled the tale of his morning walk with Peaches and the ensuing saga of the burst pipe. His aunt hung on his every word. He took his time, going into more detail than he normally would do.

Aunt Birdie’s face creased with worry lines. “Poor Hannah. She hasn’t had an easy time of it. How’s she doing?”

Hannah’s beautiful image filled his mind. He wondered what his aunt had alluded to about troubles in Hannah’s life, but he resisted the urge to inquire. “She was pretty upset.”

“I can imagine. Thank goodness you were able to stop the water. It could have been so much worse.” Her gaze met his. “I should have been there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done.”

She shook her head in disagreement. “There’s always something to do, even if it’s just being there for moral support.”