Caught in the Flames (26 page)

“Hey, buddy. It’s gonna be all right. The fire is going away now. We’ll find your mom, okay?”

He nods and buries his face further into my side. I don’t have much experience with children other than being one myself, but I’d guess the little guy is pretty scared and overwhelmed. I pat his back reassuringly and lift my chin.

Really?

Is this necessary?

Why, why, does the universe hate me?

Six firemen, fully equipped in turnouts, helmets and masks, extinguish what little survives of the fire. The water from above rains down a few seconds more before it’s cut off and leaves me looking akin to a drowned cat. With the smoke mostly gone, I can see the crowd has thinned and the mother of the small boy meets my gaze. I point down to where he’s still snuggled tight into my side and mouth, “He’s okay.”

She bolts past the fireman and drops to her knees.

“Sam! Sam! It’s Mommy. You’re okay. Oh, thank God! You’re fine, baby.” He goes to her open arms immediately, and thank God I’m already covered in water because my eyes well with tears at the tenderness and care of the moment. They squeeze each other with no regard for anyone or anything. I miss those hugs. I want my dad.

“Callie?” His voice sends chills across my skin. It’s been exactly sixty-two days since I’ve heard his voice. It should send me into rage, anger, hurt, but instead it does nothing but remind me of how only he says my name. I don’t want to look, but I have to.

Under my wet lashes I glance up into the melted chocolate. “Chase,” I croak out unattractively. I try to read his expression, but it’s hard, cold, void of anything and everything I want to know.

“Callie?” On the left of me is Ash with his calculating gaze. I just nod, then look back at Chase but he’s already walking away. The anger returns. I straighten my spine, clench my jaw, and bite down on my lip so I don’t scream “Fuck you” to his retreating back.

“Callie,” Ash says again, and I blow out an irritated breath.

“What?”

“I need you to come with me. We’ll need to ask you a few questions.”

I shiver because it’s really drafty in here and my clothes are soaked through. I notice the rest of the guys from the station—Butters, Jason, and Lopez—are staring at my chest. I glance down. Yep. My shirt is transparent and proudly displaying the Hello Kitty bra that Jill and Alicia gifted me on my last birthday. I cross my arms to cover myself and glare their way.
Busted.
They pretend to not have been staring and go back to cleaning up the remains of charred merchandise.

“What kind of questions?”

“I’m also gonna need you to cut the attitude.”

“What?” I bristle at his words. “I’ll talk however I damn well please.”

“You’re awfully sassy for someone who almost died in a fire. If we hadn’t shown up, you and that child could have been in serious danger.”

“Oh, sure. Because you carry the big hose, you get to save the day.” Snickers from the guys invade my rant, but I don’t give them any attention. “I’ll have you know that I walked through fire to get to that child, while everyone else stood around on their phones!” I point at the crowd of civilians who had gathered and then ball my fists at my sides to resist the urge to lash out at Ash. Something about this man gets under my skin.

Ash smirks with that cocky as hell attitude and glances down at my feet before meeting my hard gaze again. “Right. Walked through fire? What, are you a superhero now? I doubt you’d be able to walk through anything in those cheap sandals.”

I gasp. Cheap! Whatever, I came here for household goods, not a catwalk.

“You are an
asshole
.” I drag out the last word, wiping his smug grin from his attractive face.

“And you’re coming with me.” He grips my wrist and all but drags me toward a circle of employees and police officers. “Here’s your first suspect. She’s exhibited repeated pyromaniac behaviors,” he says to the officers. I try to pull my arm out of his hold but he’s got me.

“I didn’t have anything to do with that fire! I was trying to put it out!”

“That’s what arsonists say,” Ash deadpans, all the while not meeting my glare.

“I didn’t do it!” I shout.

“Calm down, ma’am. You need to come with us for questioning until we get to the bottom of this,” the officer says. When I try to pull out of Ash’s grip again, the policeman slaps cuffs across my wrists before I realize what’s happened.

Ash grins.

I glare.

“Asshole,” I seethe at him as I’m led toward the front of the store.

I hate Target.

And that Ash guy is on my last nerve. Pointing me out to the police officers as a possible suspect for starting the fire! Fuck him. Thank the good Lord I was inside the store and ready with my extinguisher. Half the merchandise probably would’ve gone up in flames had I not been wandering around with my cart. Children could have died. Okay, one child. But still! I’m a goddamn saint. The governor of Virginia should be honoring my yoga pant wearing ass with a medal!

Instead, the cops held me in the manager’s office for two fucking hours while they went through security tapes only to discover those delinquent little shitheads started the fire. I wish Ash were here for my exoneration. I should march my butt down to the station now and ask his rude ass for an apology. Take a copy of the police report and shove it in his arrogant face. But really, there’s no way in hell I’d chance running into Chase again, even for that.

With my time in lockup complete, I open a group text to Jill and Alicia while I drive home. I know it’s not safe, a bad choice with the run of luck I’ve been having, but frankly I don’t give a damn.

Me: You guys will never believe what happened to me.

Jill: Abducted by aliens?

Alicia: Switching deodorant?

Jill: Wait. You adopted a puppy?

Alicia: No, she’s more a cat lady.

These two! At the stop light I text out a quick reply.

Me: Stop it! I’m serious! I just saved a child from death and simultaneously went up in flames!

Alicia: You okay?

Jill: Is this a joke?

Me: No joke! There was a fire at Target and I used an extinguisher to save a small child from near death. And I ran into HIM.

Alicia: No!

Jill: Not fire fuckhead!

I’m almost home and glance down at the screen at each stop sign to type my responses.

Me: Yes him!

Alicia: You okay?

Jill: We should meet up and talk this out. Drinks tonight?

Alicia: Tonight yes. Drinks no. Can we go for coffee?

Me: YES!!!

Alicia: I’ll text you the address to this awesome little café near my condo. Meet at seven?

Jill: Perfect.

Alicia: If you need to talk before then call me?

Me: I will. Thanks.

I stop at home to change into some grubby clothes, throwing my damp outfit into the washer to rid it of the lingering smoke stench. I don’t bother showering even though my hair is a tangled hot mess from being drenched and then air dried. Besides, I’m just going to Kiki’s and she won’t care.

I need to find my Zen. After the near death experience and run in with Chase, I’m all out of balance. Even my hands shake as I steer the wheel and turn into her long drive.

Inhale inner peace.

Exhale bitterness, irritation, fear, and anger.

Fuck this
. I just need to dig in the dirt for a few hours.

“Callie, dear! You’re late!” Kiki waves from the doorway. Her screen swings open as I slam my Jeep door shut with more than necessary force. “Whoa! Bad day?” She appraises my haggard state.

“Coffee?” I almost cry.

“Come in, come in. Tell Kiki all about it.” She pulls me inside, patting my arm as we walk through the house. I follow her to the kitchen table and plop into my usual seat. Silas meows from the window sill, most likely irritated at the disruption to his midday nap. I raise my brows at him.
Try me, cat, after the day I’ve had . . . try me
. He meows at my glare and hops down to scurry to the other room just as Kiki slides over a mug of java.

“I love you,” I blurt.

“The coffee, I know.” She grins.

“Yes, the coffee, but I love you, too.” I savor the first sip with a groan and let my eyes flutter closed. There’s no way in hell I would have survived the past few months without this woman. Our conversations, her care for me, and even her out of control overgrown yard have saved me from the darkest of times. Yet, after today I feel all sorts of emotional unease.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” she asks, and then nods at my sharp inhalation. “It’s not easy having to see him after everything that happened.”

I just nod. How does she always know?

“Tell me about it?” she questions, and I recount the entire ordeal—from last night’s bonfire mishap to the spark and run shopping excursion of the morning. We laugh, I cry, and Kiki listens. She gets it. She gets me.

“Will you tell me about how you met your late husband?” I finally ask. Not that I haven’t been more than a little curious over these weeks of friendship, but something about the way she is today, I wonder if she might tell me. She’s never brought it up and I want to know. I never shared with her Tiff’s cruel words the night I saw Chase and Alicia together. But they scratch at my curiosity. I just can’t see Kiki being so selfish as to steal anything, let alone someone’s husband.

She stands, grabs the coffee pot, and refills our mugs before returning to the table. She meets my gaze and nods once. “Okay.” She takes a long sip and I wait for her to continue. Her fingers trace circles over the clay of her cup and I wonder if this isn’t a story she shares often.

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning. I’ve told you how I traveled during my twenties and some of my thirties, kept the company of lovers in many languages.”

“Yes, you’ve told me all of those stories.” My lips pull into a wide grin.

“I guess I have. Well, something they don’t tell you about adventure, about living the nomad life, is that eventually the appeal, the allure—it starts to wear off. Each country starts to look just like the others, and the men . . . while beautiful and charming, they’re all looking for that one thing. A one-night stand, a connection, a release . . . and I grew tired of it all. It was time to come home.

“My parents, all too happy to finally have their daughter home, bought me this place.”

“I thought you bought this place with your husband.”

“Do you want to hear the story or not, dear?”

“Sorry, please continue.”

“I was so excited to have a place of my own, to put down roots, and I loved the neighborhood instantly. But you can imagine how well I was received by the Susie Homemakers of the block.” She rolls her eyes. “You can’t tell it now, but I was quite the looker in my day, full figure and a tendency to mow my lawn in nothing by my bathing suit top and shorts.” She pauses to laugh her throaty chuckle. I join in, picturing a younger version of Kiki doing such.

“Well, I wasn’t the biggest hit with the housewives. But the husbands? They loved me. Offered to help with anything, but I didn’t need the drama. I’m an independent woman, after all. That was, until my water heater nearly exploded. I had been here six months and the damn thing shook the house. I thought it was an earthquake at first, and then noticed the smoke.”

“What did you do?”

“Used the neighbor’s phone to call the fire boys over. That’s when I met him. My Phil.”

I sigh. I can’t help it. It’s so romantic. And despite that I hate Chase, I still remember a time I loved firemen. “Was it instant love? Did he ask you out on the spot?”

“Hell no! He was married.”

My stomach drops. “Oh, Kiki . . .”

“Now don’t you ‘Oh, Kiki’ me until I finish the whole story. It’s not like that. Though it’s what everyone assumed. But I digress. I met Phil and the other fire boys, and they put out the fire quickly before it caused much damage. I was thankful to them, offered them coffee, and we conversed a few minutes. It was nice. I was a little lonely, sure, but once I learned Phil was married, he was out of my head.”

“So, what happened next?”

“The next week, Phil stopped by to make sure the repairs had been made. That I was doing okay. He was concerned, genuinely, and we shared a cup of coffee again. No funny business, just talked about life. He and his wife had a little one at home and they also lived in the neighborhood. He loved them dearly. That was the start of a real friendship. He stopped in, oh, maybe once a week to check on me.

“He could always make me laugh, you know. That’s so important to any relationship. Life is tough, and if you can’t stop to find the humor of the situation, things will bring you down. Anyway, this went on you see, for years, and I’ll admit, I fell in love with the man. But I would never make a move. He was married.

“I guess it was about four years after we met when he came over to fix a leaky pipe in the laundry room. It was August, hot as hell, and I don’t know, maybe it was just the right time, but squeezed together in that small space something charged in the air, changed between us, and he kissed me. Chaste. Sweet. And in a way no man had ever kissed me before.” She touches her fingers to her lips.