Caught in the Flames (40 page)

You can stay here
. I bite my lip so I don’t say the words. “Want a ride?” I offer instead.

“Nah, the walk will be good for me.” He winks and touches his finger to my nose. His skin is warm against mine and my lips pull into a smile remembering our paint fight in this same place just weeks ago. “You better get inside or you’ll turn into Rudolph,” he teases.

“’Kay, but you’ll text me when you get home? So I’m sure you didn’t fall into a snowdrift or get eaten by wolves.” I’m joking. Mostly.

Ash laughs, picks up the spade from the ground and then stores it back in the shed. He locks the door and I follow him up the path to the front of the house. “Later, Sweet Cheeks.” He grins and backs away down the driveway. He lifts his chin and I love the way his eyes are more amber than green.

“Text me?” I call back and he nods before he turns. Hands in pockets and head down, I watch until he disappears around the corner at the end of the street. There’s magic in the air, the first thin layer of snowflakes finally piling enough to cover the lawns. It reminds me of home and I pull my phone from my pocket to call my daddy as I step inside the house.

“My girl.” His voice is a comfort even with the miles apart and I don’t know why but I burst into tears. “Callie, Callie, is everything all right? Who do I need to hurt?”

I can’t help but laugh, even though I’m crying. “Sorry, Dad. It’s been a day. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I swear. I’ll be okay. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you.” I unlace my power boots.

“I miss you, too. You’re still coming for Christmas next month?” Hope and maybe even a little apprehension sneak through his question.

“Of course, I am.”

“Good. Now, do you want to tell me why you were crying?”

“Not really.” I laugh and he does, too. Kiki pokes her head out from the hallway and waves before shuffling back down the hall to her bedroom.

“Want me to tell you about the Model T we had in the shop last week? Damn, she was a beauty.”

“Yes.” I nod, though he can’t see my face. “Tell me all about it.” I fall onto the couch in Kiki’s living room and watch the snow build outside the window while my dad regales me with tales of engine rebuilds and custom paint jobs. It’s better than the blanket I wrap around my shoulders. Just add it to the ever growing reasons why I love my dad.

I love organized moves.

And with a full week allocated to plan, my predisposition to organize when stressed is fully content. Today’s the day. I’m moving back to my place. It’s secure, safe, and there isn’t a gaping hole on one side. There’re still a bunch of cosmetic repairs to be made, but my contractor assured me it’s safe and ready for full time occupancy.

My heart, however, needs to get on board with this move because since waking up I’ve been choking back tears each time I think about not living here with my favorite roomie. I wish I were more excited about moving back. I like living here with Kiki. But I’ve mooched long enough and it’s time to go home.

“Callie, dear, I’m so sorry I can’t help you today.” Kiki breezes into the kitchen, pours herself a cup of coffee and joins me at the table where I’ve been mentally prepping for this day with the help of my first mug.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to take a few loads over and clean first. Once Jill gets off work she’ll come help me unpack.”

“Alicia’s not helping?”

“She’s on a trip with her family this week. They always go to Cabo for Thanksgiving. Their tradition.”

“Sounds like my kind of tradition.” Kiki grins. “And Ashley?” The skin above her eyes lifts and her lips purse. I know she wants to say more but I’m glad she doesn’t. He’s been distant all week. A few texts here and there, but he hasn’t stopped by since Sunday. It’s not like him, or us, to go that long without hanging out and I miss him.

“Working,” I answer instead.

Kiki nods, stands from the chair, and washes out her now empty mug in the sink. “Well, I better be going. The bazaar opens at ten. You should stop by later if you finish early.” She shuffles over to the laundry room to grab a large duffle bag and places it on the counter. I helped her set up her booth yesterday so I’m not sure what else she’s planning to bring. That’s an awfully large bag.

“Kiki.” I stand, refill my mug, and lean against the counter. She disappears into the living room.

“Yes dear?” she calls.

“What are you doing? I thought we got everything yesterday?”

She appears in the doorway, a very unamused Silas clenched to her bosom. “We did. Thank you.” She says with a sweet smile and then drops the cat into the bag and zips it shut.

“Kiki!” I yell with a laugh. “You can’t bring a cat to the library!”

“And why the hell not?” she sasses with a hand on one hip.

“It’s against the law. I’m pretty sure.”

“It’s fine, Callie. You worry too much. Barry brings his dog in all the time.”

“Barry is blind.”

“So?”

“He has a service dog.” Her blank look tells me this is going nowhere. “Do you at least need help carrying the bag?” For once I feel a little bad for the fat tabby. He’s spoiled rotten but that’s no pet carrier. I hope there are holes for him to breathe.

“I’m fine, dear.” She lugs the strap over one shoulder and Silas hisses in response. Yep. Poor kitty. “Have a lovely moving day. It’s been a real pleasure having you stay with me, Callie.”

I swallow a mouthful of coffee and set my mug on the counter, steeling myself against the part inside that’s more than a little emotional about leaving. “Thank you, Kiki. For everything. I’ll still come by all the time. That is, if it’s okay.”

“You are always welcome here. Keep your key.” She steps close and pats my cheek. “You’re a good woman, Callie Gordon. You deserve the world. Always remember that.”

I nod, unable to speak or risk becoming a blubbery mess.

“Now, wish me luck! I want all my paintings to sell.” She grins and scoots out of the kitchen with Silas banging around at her hip.

“Good luck!” I call after her. She’ll need it with those vagina flowers. Maybe they’d sell in a hippie town or even an adult only store, but this part of Richmond is way too conservative to want those paintings decorating bathroom walls. I’m honestly surprised the women’s guild didn’t boot her from the show. The door closes with a thud and a click of the lock, and I glance around the kitchen. I’ve procrastinated enough. Time to get this day underway. First task: take the first load over and clean the place from top to bottom.

The music disconnects and my ringtone sings across the kitchen from the little speaker dock that serenades my clean fest. I set down the disinfectant and rag and race to see who’s calling. The number and name flash across my phone screen.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!
I almost don’t pick up. But a sudden urge of anger, violence, and fuck-you-Chase-Matthews rolls through my veins, causing my finger to slide across the screen.

“I told you to never call me again, Chase.”

“Callie, don’t hang up—”

“You have some nerve calling me right now! Do you enjoy this? Just waiting for me to be happy again to start the harassment? I should’ve never wasted a single breath on your sorry ass!” It feels good to say all the things I’ve always wanted.

“Callie, listen to me—” He tries to interrupt but I’m not done. I need to say my peace so I can finally leave him where he belongs. In my past.

“No, you listen to me, Chase Matthews. I hate that I ever met you. I hate that you made me think I loved you. You tore me down, one digging observation at a time and you tainted my friendship with Alicia. You made me question my beauty, my value, my intrigue as a woman, and it wasn’t until Ash came along that I discovered the truth. I am gorgeous, I’m sexy, and I’m a fucking catch! Your dumb ass has to live with the reality that you missed your chance, so delete this number and don’t fucking call me again. Ever!”

“I know!” he shouts and his tone is laced with fear. “Just don’t hang up. You’re right and I’m sorry but that’s not why I called. Callie . . . it’s Ash.” There’s sorrow in his tone, maybe even regret, but I don’t hear that. The only sound I hear is the blood that rushes in my ears. I stumble to the table and drop down into a chair because my legs suddenly feel too heavy for my frame.

“Ash?” Sickness consumes the pit of my stomach and I know. I just know that something horrible has happened. Chase continues talking but all I catch are a series of words; utterances that fuel the apprehension prickling my skin—fire—accident—fall—unconscious—not breathing—Mercy Hospital.

“Callie? Callie, he needs you. I called Jill. She’s on her way. She’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

No. I can’t wait that long. My legs work just fine and Ash needs me. He needs me—it beats through my entire body as I pop up from the table. I race to the door, shove my feet in my boots. Purse over one shoulder, keys in hand, and I’m out the door in thirty seconds. The freezing air sends goosebumps over my skin, but I’m not wasting a second to run back for a coat. Ash needs me.

“Callie? Callie, you still there?” God, I didn’t realize I was still cradling my phone on my shoulder. Key in the ignition, my Jeep roars to life.

“Chase. I’ve got to go. Thanks for calling.”

“Callie, I don’t want you driving. You’re too upset.”

“Look. Thanks for calling, but you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. You lost that privilege a long time ago. Tell Ash I’m on my way.” I press end and toss my phone into my purse, whip my Jeep out of the drive and toward the highway.

Ash. Be okay. Please dear God, let him be well.

I hate fear.

How it illuminates all the sensations, how time ticks by minutes slower, how every fucking car in the world seems to be out for a cruise, how my heart hammers inside my ribs and all the way up to my throat.

It’s déjà vu all over again in my race to the county hospital. Only this time it’s not for Chase, and my fear is real and purposeful—for Ash.
He has to be okay.
I can’t even consider the alternative. I can’t live this life without my best friend and the man who owns a very large piece of my heart. I swing into an open parking space and my boots hit the pavement with soft thuds as I run to the emergency room door. From previous experience I know I won’t be allowed past the front desk and I don’t even try. Instead, I opt to wait against the wall where the double doors open every so often.

I’m impatient, waiting, and it’s all I can do to stay put. A soft click and a beep opens them moments later and a man in scrubs walks through with his gaze focused on his phone. Just before the doors shut, I slip through and pretend the best I can to navigate the halls confidently so I appear to belong.

The corridor to my left has a sign pointing to the intensive care unit. Apprehension prickles my skin. I don’t want to find him here, but I fear it’s where I will.
Breathe, Callie.
Each inhale is a struggle, as if there’s not enough air, and my breaths fall short. I follow the sign and automatic doors sense my presence and click audibly before they open to the waiting area. I lift my chin to scan the room and my pulse picks up when I spot Chase, Cam, and Tiff.

Cam paces the length of the corridor dressed in his county fire pants and long sleeved T-shirt. Chase sits, hunched over and dressed the same, his hands covering his face. Tiff rubs Chase’s back, her features pinched in a deep scowl, and her lips move with her hushed voice. I stride over and it hits me that I feel nothing for Chase. No anxious excitement, bubbling nerves. No anger or hate, not love or lust. Nothing. I don’t love him. All I want is to know where Ash is so I can be by his side.