Into the Fire (31 page)

“Damn,” he said. “I thought losing your hearing had made you psychic.”

She probably didn’t hear him, because she’d leaned closer to the flyer, to look at the little picture of Steve’s smiling face. “Go, Steve,” she said. “Do you think they drove the stank-mobile all the way to Massachusetts?”

Murphy was certain of it. He nodded as she turned to look back at him, which was disconcerting, considering how close they were standing. According to the flyer, the conference ran until next Wednesday, which gave them some breathing room. He pushed open the last door, at the end of the hall and…Whoa.

“Speaking of stank,” Hannah was saying, “I could use a shower and hey, what happened to the chaos room?”

The room where Steve and Paul had, for over a decade, jammed all of their excess clutter had been transformed into a guest bedroom, neat and cozy. It was like something out of a trendy furniture company catalogue, down to the gleaming white bedspread and the interesting artwork on the walls.

“I bet,” Hannah said, “right about now you’re regretting that you came and crashed with me at the cabin instead of coming here. My shitty little loft, versus this…?”

Murphy waited for her to glance up at him so he could respond. “I didn’t come to the cabin for the loft.”

And there they stood, in the doorway of that perfect room, with that perfect bed looming there in his peripheral vision as he gazed down into Hannah’s face, Hannah’s eyes.

“I didn’t come for this, either,” he said, then tried to explain, glancing over at that bed that was waiting for them to fall upon it. He gestured between the two of them. “This—”

She cut him off. “I know.”

“But, God, maybe I’m just lying to myself because—”

She stood on her toes and kissed him.

And Murphy closed his eyes and kissed her back. She was salty and sweet, coffee and sweat, soft and hard—these lips that had always been so quick to curve up into a smile, this mouth that he knew so well.

She wrapped herself around him, her arms holding him close, her body soft against him, her fingers in his hair as he held her just as tightly as he kissed her, again and again and again.

Hannah, whom he’d met back when she was still in college. They’d worked together for a few months, that first glorious, brilliant summer with its endlessly long days, on Patrick’s whale watching boat. She was really still just a kid back then, but she was funny and smart and fun to be with, and he hung with her even when they both weren’t working.

It wasn’t about sex. And okay, sex had definitely crossed his mind a time or two hundred because, hey, he was human, but it wasn’t
about
sex.

And it became a thing. A tradition. A habit. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, even if he couldn’t take the entire summer, he’d take a couple weeks and head for Juneau.

To hang with his pal Patrick. But really, to hang with Hannah.

Whom he’d kissed for the first time, in all the years that they’d been friends, that awful night six months ago. He’d kissed her, and then he’d cold-fucked her, and even though it had to have been soul-crushingly awful it must’ve felt too good, because he’d blocked most of it out. God forbid he feel good or laugh.

Or live.

But, Jesus, blood was rushing through his veins right now. His heart was damn near pounding out of his chest.

Murphy tugged her now, toward the bed, but she stopped him, pulling her mouth free.

“Clean and slow,” she said breathlessly, her hand on his chest to stop him from kissing her again.

He shook his head, not understanding.

“Look at this room,” Hannah said, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Do you really want to mud up that perfect bed?”

And they would make mud, Murphy knew. They were both covered with dust and grime. That plus the way they were already making each other sweat…

And he got it. Clean. And
slow
…

“I don’t know if I can do slow,” he confessed. He used to be good at it—a million years ago. But right now? Highly unlikely.

“It’s just a wish list.” She hobbled around him to the hall bathroom. “It’s not like I’m going to send you back into the kitchen if you don’t bring me exactly what I order.”

He followed her, lingering in the doorway as she turned on the water and made sure there was soap and shampoo in the shower stall. “My wish list is kind of…fast and now.”

“If you shower in the master bathroom,” Hannah told him as she sat on the john to take off her boots, trying not to wince as she freed her ankle, “
now
will be in about three minutes. I’ll meet you back in the chaos room.”

“It’s not the chaos room anymore,” Murphy pointed out.

“Don’t count on it,” she said and shut the door in his face.

D
ALTON
, C
ALIFORNIA

“Eden. May I talk to you for a minute?”

She was standing and crying at the open trunk of the rental car, pretending to be organizing the clothes in her bag, but now she quickly wiped her eyes before turning around.

It was one of Izzy’s friends—Jay Lopez—standing there. His sudden expression of sheer dismay at the sight of her no-doubt still-teary eyes and red nose would’ve been funny under normal circumstances. Provided she had room for funny in today’s range of emotions, which ran the gamut from frightened to sad. Oh, and then even sadder, with her mother’s such obvious lies.

Ben can’t come either. He’s got soccer practice this afternoon, and then a…a big math test to study for tomorrow.

Why don’t you just say it, Mom? Greg won’t let you or Ben come to the wedding, and, once again, you’re just going to let him win.

“You okay?” Lopez asked, obviously praying that she’d
I’m fine
him.

So she nodded and gave him pregnancy excuse B. “Crazy hormones.” It was only half a lie.

He nodded, too. “Danny told me you’re going back to Vegas,” he said in his gentle, almost apologetic voice. He had only the slightest hint of an accent. “To get married. Today. You probably don’t know this, but…Izzy really has to go to San Diego first.”

And wasn’t
this
exactly what she needed? Eden twisted the ring on her finger, around and around. There was definitely more coming, so she lifted her chin and waited for it.

“He needs to request permission from our commanding officer,” Lopez told her, still apologetic—yeah, right. “To get married.”

Eden nodded. “He told me about that.” Apparently, several years ago, Izzy had received six months of punishment duty, for what he’d called
a UA incident.
Which translated to “unauthorized absence,” which was the Navy’s version of going AWOL. He’d gotten into serious trouble and was lucky, in fact, that he hadn’t been given a dishonorable discharge.

But two months into his punishment, Izzy’d cut a deal with both his CO—his commanding officer—and the team’s senior chief. He was allowed to return to Team Sixteen on the condition that he follow all rules and regs to the T.
And
that he get permission from the CO before he did anything out of the realm of everyday and ordinary.

“Izzy told me getting permission would be no problem,” Eden told Lopez now. “That it was just a formality. Because I’m pregnant. He said it would be fine if he spoke to the CO first thing, after we got back.”

Izzy didn’t want to make Eden drive all the way to San Diego, then back to Vegas, then back again.

Lopez was nodding his agreement. “It would, indeed, be a formality. If the baby was his.” He shrugged. “I kinda know it’s not.”

“He,” Eden said. “The baby is a
he
not an
it.
”

“Excuse me,” Lopez said. He did sincere extremely well. “
He’s
not. Zanella’s.” He held her gaze. “I know this, Eden.”

If this guy thought he could intimidate her with a stare-down, he had another think coming.

Eden let him think he won—but then slid her own gaze down his nicely put together upper body, lingering on the fly of his pants. She even tipped her head slightly as she looked—a small detail, sure, but extremely effective in reducing most men to penises with a human appendage, working brain optional. “You know this…because you were there that night? Maybe hiding in the closet? Hoping to make it a three-way? I really don’t know Izzy that well, but if this is something you guys regularly do…I’ve never really been into that, but since you’re kind of hot…I’ll definitely think about it.”

She returned her gaze to his face, but he was already looking away, staring down at the broken macadam and dirt of the driveway, smiling slightly and shaking his head.

His smile faded though, as he looked back up at her—with absolutely nothing she’d expected in his eyes. No heat. No embarrassment. Just…

Pity?

“Izzy’s a good friend of mine,” he said quietly. “I care about him—very much. I know things seem really…scary and uncertain right now, and he’s providing what seems like a quick fix, which I also know must be impossible for you to resist—”

“There you are.” And there came Izzy, loping across the parking lot, looking from Eden to Lopez and back as he tossed his duffle into the trunk. “What’s up, kids?”

Lopez opened his mouth, but Eden spoke first. “Jay was just expressing his regrets. About not being able to come with. You know, to the wedding?”

Silence.

Izzy finally broke it by laughing, but it wasn’t because he found anything particularly funny. “Okay, I
so
don’t buy that.” He again looked from Eden to Lopez, and he got large. “What the
fuck
were you saying to her, dickhead?”

Lopez didn’t back down. “I’m just being your friend, man.”

“By making Eden cry?”

“He didn’t,” Eden tried to tell Izzy. “I was…crying about…” He wasn’t paying her any attention—she was talking to herself. “…something else. Something stupid. Something you obviously don’t care about.”

“I lied, okay,” Izzy told Lopez. “When I told you…what I told you. Yesterday? I
lied.
This baby’s mine.”

And there they stood, practically toe to toe, staring each other down.

This time, Lopez blinked first. And backed away. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m getting married,” Izzy said quietly. “Trust me, this is not something that you do without at least a little thought.”

“There
are
other solutions,” Lopez said, just as quietly. “Welfare programs that Eden could go into that would pay for—”

“Danny would never agree to that,” Eden said.

“Danny would have nothing to say about it,” Lopez pointed out. “He’s not responsible for—”

“Jay,” Izzy said, “come on, bro, just let it go.”

Lopez nodded, but then shook his head. “At least take the time to talk to the counselors at the navy base, sign a prenup. And man, you’ve
got
to talk to the senior chief.”

Across the parking lot, Miss Been-There-Done-That—aka Tracy Nice-Shoes—came clickety-clicking out of the motel lobby, along with Lindsey and Mark Jenkins. She caught sight of Izzy and stopped seriously short. It was as if, boom, she’d hit an invisible wall at the very sight of him. And at the sight of Eden.

Izzy didn’t notice. He was too busy delivering a look of total disbelief to Lopez. “
Talk to the senior chief
is how you let it go?”

No, Miss Shoes, Eden wasn’t fat, she was pregnant. She shifted so that she was more in profile as, across the parking lot, Tracy all but pointed in her direction. Mark leaned closer, no doubt explaining to Tracy who Eden was, and where she and Izzy were going.

“Why are you in such a rush?” Lopez asked earnestly. “You barely know this girl.” He dissolved into a barrage of Spanish that Izzy just shook his head throughout.

“I’m sorry, she’s…I’m sorry, man. Look, I know her well enough,” Izzy countered. “I do.”

Across the parking lot, Tracy abruptly spun on her expensive heels and walked—quickly—back into the motel. Lindsey shot her husband a classic
well done, Mr. Insensitive
look and chased after her.

“And the rush,” Izzy added, “is that the
girl
needs prenatal care.”

“And after that?” Lopez asked. “After the baby’s born and the hospital bills are covered? What then?”

Izzy glanced at Eden. “We’ll play it by ear.”

“I gotta be honest,” Lopez said. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but to me, marriage is a holy sacrament. It’s supposed to be forever, Iz. To enter into it on the…the three-month lease plan—it’s an insult to the institution. It’s an insult to God.”

“Says the man who recommends we sign a prenup,” Izzy told Eden, as Mark Jenkins crossed the parking lot to join them.

“You’re supposed to be in love,” Lopez implored him. “
Both
of you, Zanella. How is this
not
going to end badly?”

Jenkins realized what he’d walked into. “Are you seriously trying to talk Zanella out of marrying Eden?” he asked Lopez, laughing his surprise. “Dude, Danny’s going to crap ballistic missiles.”

Lopez turned to Eden as if to say something more, but Izzy blocked him.

He opened the door to the front of the car, motioning for her to get in. “Time to go.”

Eden acquiesced as Lopez just stood there, shaking his head.

As Izzy closed the car door, Jenk lowered his voice, but Eden could still hear him. “Did you know Tracy’s here?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “I, um…Yes, I know.”

Jenk’s voice got a little louder. “And you didn’t even bother to
talk
to her?
Hey, how are you, Trace? Things are crazy with me ever since I found out I knocked up a sixteen-year-old.”

“Eden’s not sixteen,” Izzy said.

“Newsflash, Z! She
was
sixteen only
two years ago!”

“Get the fuck out of my face!”

“You couldn’t’ve at least had the common decency to
mention
it to Tracy?” Jenkins asked. “She had to find out from me, and I messed it up, because I was sure you’d done the right thing and talked to her.”

“I haven’t
seen
her in months,” Izzy said. “Why would I go looking for her now? Dude, I haven’t even told my brothers yet. Or maybe you expected me to touch base with every random woman I’ve—”