Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) (28 page)

“What do you bet those assholes fucked with it?”

Jim’s narrows his eyes. “I thought it was because the probie, Carter was on the line, but I checked it myself and almost lost it. A dead hydrant on
your
street? You’re one of our own, McNeill! This just can’t happen.”

His words hit me hard,
you’re one of our own.
Was the truth always there and it took my property catching fire for me to really see it.

I belong.

Jim gives me a sympathetic grimace. “And we didn’t know at first it was yours. We’d called for back-up and suddenly Joe shows up on his bike, ahead of the trucks, and that’s when we knew.”

My eyes dart across the scene. “Where is Joe?”

Jim turns back and I follow his gaze, only to see Mike cowering on the back porch. Stanley is in the shadows behind him. My blood boils.

“Damn!” Jim curses. “Did he go back in that trailer? We told him to get out. He doesn’t have his gear on either.”

I turn back and see Alberto on one side of the yard dragging the line forward as its passed through the busted opening in the fence. On the other side tall flames roar up the backside of Betty, and I can see the orange flicks of hot light dance just about the roofline.

All the breath whooshes out of my lungs and my knees almost buckle as this surreal scene stops seeming like a made-for-TV-movie, and the sharp edge of reality cuts right through me.

Betty is on fire and Joe is inside.

I take off across the yard ignoring Jim commanding me not to. I have to get to Joe.

A wall of heat hits me as soon as I pass through his rig’s door. “Joe!”’ I yell, but my voice seems lost in the roar of chaos. Then I hear a thud farther back. With only the faint yard lights and flames casting light into the dark interior everything looks creepy and smoke is already burning the back of my throat.

“Joe,” I cry out again as I step farther inside, my hands reaching as if he’s within my grasp.

A bright light flickers through the window and a few feet away I see the outline of Joe’s long legs stepping down a ladder. He jumps the last few feet and leans over, grabs a box, and lunges toward me.

“Joe,” I say, and then pause when I see the fury in his eyes. It feels like hate and it makes me feel raw, like my skin’s been peeled back.

“Get out of here,” he commands in a rough voice.

“What’s that?” I ask pointing to the box, trying to imagine what’s so precious that he risked getting it.

His eyes narrow. “My safe box. For fuck’s sake move over or get out before we both go up in flames.”

Suddenly everything feels hotter and I see sparks hitting the nearby window.

I can’t bear his disdain but I have to say something, anything . . .”Joe, I’m so sorry.”

He pulls the box closer to his chest. “Not half as sorry as I am for ever bringing Betty here. This was my home, the only thing I had left and now . . .”

A boom like a gunshot blasts and we both jerk toward the sound to see the window above the sink has exploded and the flames are curling inside.

“Out!” Joe roars and we charge toward the door as the burst from the new hose line hits Betty and water sprays through the broken window. We tumble down the stairs one after the other and out of our team’s way.

Joe keeps on, marching down the driveway. He’s halfway to the street before I stop following him and watch him put his box in the truck where it’s safe. He then hurries back up the driveway.

“Joe,” I say as I follow after him. He ignores me and keeps moving back to the fire. It’s that moment that I realize my family is huddled together on the front lawn. They look like lost children, with no idea where to go or what to do. I’m sure they can read the defeat in my expression as I join them.

Paul speaks up first. “How bad is it, Trish?”

“Really bad. The hydrant was dead and getting back-up cost dearly. At least Stanley and Mike were able to keep the fire from spreading to the house. So the backyard is gutted but worse, Joe’s rig is on fire. They just got the live line so they’ll get control and it should be out soon. By then I’ll know how bad things are.”

“He didn’t look good,” Elle says, before biting her thumbnail.

I shove my hands in my pockets. “No, and I think he blames me. I guess in a backwards kind of way he can, but I’d never do anything to hurt him and his rig.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Elle agrees.

“In time he will hopefully find forgiveness in his heart,” Skye says.

Patrick shakes his head. “I don’t know. He looked pretty furious.”

“This isn’t your fault, Trish. He’ll calm down and see that,” Elle says.

I think about the conversation we had the night he saved the homeless man, and his comments about his home being all he has. “I don’t know . . . this means something more to him. He may not bounce back.”

Paul steps up and gives me a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“What can we do?” Patrick asks, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“Maybe you guys can get Mike and Stanley to leave. I think them being here makes things even worse.”

Paul nods. “I’ll talk to them.”

A few minutes pass as we discuss where I’ll stay tonight, and what the next steps moving forward will be.

Scott approaches me as I step away from the family. “I know this looks bad, McNeill, but you guys are safe and the damage could be worse for sure. We have to see about Joe’s rig, but I bet it can be repaired. And at least your house is safe. It just wouldn’t be right to have it go up on our watch.”

I take a ragged breath, all my swirls of emotion starting to weigh down heavily on me. I give Scott a weak smile and thank him. If he only knew that the worst damage here won’t be covered with ashes that can be brushed off before rebuilding. If Joe never forgives me, the damage tonight could be irreparable.

I look over just as the front door opens, and Paul follows Mike and Stanley out. Stanley stays back while Mike approaches me.

“Paul said it would be better if we left,” he says. He appears distraught. Now that I’ve calmed some I know how bad he must be feeling about the fire.

I nod. “Joe’s really upset about his rig. I need to do whatever I can, considering everything. We can’t stay here tonight anyway.”

Mike nods. “Paul said he was going to have you stay with them. What about Joe?”

“He’s actually on duty. He’ll go back to the station.”

He looks down. “I can’t bear to stay at the apartment tonight. Stanley said I could stay at his place. Would that upset you?”

“No. It makes sense despite how crazy all of this is.”

His eyes soften. “You have to know Trish, I’m just sick about what happened. I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know it was an accident, Mike. You’ve always loved this place. You’d never do anything to damage it.”

“No I wouldn’t. And although I’ve screwed everything up, I love you and would never intentionally hurt you or Joe.”

I let out a sorry sigh and nod.

“I’ll call the insurance company first thing in the morning. Can I be here for their inspection?”

“No, it’s better if it’s just me since Joe will have to be here, too. I’ll get the station report. Just get them here as soon as possible.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know.” He holds his arms out and I accept his hug. Over his shoulder I see Stanley watching us, looking relieved. I nod at him.

After they’ve driven off in Stanley’s Jeep I slowly walk to the backyard to see the state of things.

As I suspected the flames have been doused. Now it’s just the bitter stench of random material burnt to a crisp. Smoke still slowly rises from all areas of the yard, most from Joe’s rig. I look at where a good part of his wood siding is charred and the window is blow out, but at least the structure is intact.

Jim approaches me. “We’re still rechecking hot spots, and we’ve inspected his rig but it’s looking like we got everything.”

“Good. Thanks Jim.”

He shrugs. “Of course, McNeill.” He nods toward Betty. “Joe’s in there with Alberto. There’s water damage. They’re trying to salvage what they can.”

I head to the back to see the state of things for myself. Just as I approach the door, Alberto steps out with what appears to be a kitchen drawer piled high with books and other random items. I step out of the way so he has a clear path.

“The backdoor to the house is open, Alberto. Can you take it in there?”

“Sure.”

I climb into the rig, trying to ignore the smell and lingering smoke. There’s another filled drawer on the counter and I lift it and put it on the top step so Alberto can carry it in next. I go back in and approach Joe, whose back is turned to me as he drags a mop along the floor.

“What can I do?”

He turns and looks over at his shoulder at me. Then closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “I’m trying to get some of this water up before everything warps. Not that it may matter at this point.”

I hold out my hand. “It will matter. Let me.”

He huffs and leans the handle toward me. Once I take it, he moves to the back and grabs a towel and starts wiping down the wet, soot-stained wood.

“There’s good insurance on this place,” I tell him.

“Not sure it’ll cover this,” he replies, his face twisted in anger. “I just hope it can be repaired.”

“I’m sure it can,” I say with a false confidence.

“Yeah? Don’t make me empty promises, Trisha.” He balls up the wet towel and throws it hard against the back wall.

I look down and keep pushing the puddles toward the front door, and I’m halfway there when he steps over me, and storms out.

As much as I want to follow him I complete my task. It’s the least I can do. The interior is still a wreck, but the floor is no longer a wading pool.

I find him out front as the guys load up the truck. He’s talking to Jim with his shoulders hunched over and his arms crossed. Jim is nodding with a grave expression on his face.

I glance over at Paul with a worried look. His gaze moves to Joe and then back to me. He shrugs and then shakes his head as if he’s not sure if I should approach Joe or not. I hesitate and then figure I’ve got to be strong and at least try.

I approach them just as Scott calls to Jim, “We’re set.”

I speak to Jim first. “Thank you, Jim. You guys are the best.”

He nods in acknowledgement. “Is that your family?” he asks, gesturing toward Paul and the group.

“Yes.”

“So you’ll stay with them tonight? As you know, it’s safer for you not to be here, never mind the smell of smoke.”

“Yes,” I reply, glancing over at Joe but he has no reaction.

Jim turns to him. “You coming back to the station?”

“Yeah.”

I walk up to the truck and one by one thank the guys. They have that ‘tired, but relieved that the job is done’ look. I know that feeling well. Jim gets up on the rig as the engines fire and Joe and I stand at attention and watch them pull away.

“Joe—” I start.

He cuts me off. “I’m heading back, too.”

“Can we talk for a minute?” I’m trying to appear calm but I’m trembling inside my skin.

He gives me a harsh glare. “It would be better not to talk tonight. I can’t control what I’d say.”

“Maybe I should hear it.” I challenge him.

He stares up at the night sky as his tense muscles flex in his folded arms. A long weighted pause follows until he clears his throat.

“The thing is I’ve had this feeling ever since you cornered me in the yard at the station and offered the space for my rig.”

Cornered?
I chew on the corner of my lip. “What kind of feeling?”

“I wasn’t sure at first, but then when you brought your unstable husband back here after he went off the rails, it all clicked for me.”

My stomach sinks. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I can’t handle this right now. But from the way it looks like he’s gearing up, I think I’ve realized this too late.

“Your suicidal husband, and me, the broken firefighter—are we like stray pets that you took in because you felt sorry for us?”

“What?” I gasp, my eyes growing wide as I fight back instant tears.

“’Cause yeah, you’re tough and strong, T. Rex, and like every man at the station you want to save people. But let me tell you, you sure as hell haven’t saved me . . . you’ve just thrown me in the middle of your three-ring circus and turned my life upside down.”

“You’re wrong. I never saw you like that, Joe.”

“Say what you want, but it’s time you realize that I’m not your stray pet . . . or your damn project. I don’t need anyone or anything but my job and my rig, to keep moving on.”

I don’t even try to hide the stream of tears now running down my face. I square my shoulders back, fighting the instinct to curl over and protect my heart that’s taking a beating. “Joe, please . . .”

He gives me one more harsh look before turning and walking away. He doesn’t acknowledge me or my family with a good-bye, just climbs on his bike and roars off, leaving me and my spirits shattered.

Elle reaches me first as I start to sob. It’s all just too much and I fall into her arms.

“Baby, baby,” she whispers. “He was speaking in anger, don’t let it break you. He’ll calm down and see reason.”

“He won’t,” I respond in between gasps.

“Yeah, he will,” says Paul as steps close.

Patrick and Skye approach us.

“This is a karmic split,” Skye states. “We need to smudge the house and property for peace to be restored.”

I look over at Patrick with wild crazy eyes and shake my head.

He glances over at Paul and then back at me. “Maybe it’s time for us to leave. Skye has a really early yoga class tomorrow.”

I give him a frantic nod.

“It’s okay,” Skye says. “We need to be here for Trish.”

“No. Thanks, but please go,” I say.

“We’re taking Trish home now anyway,” Paul points out. “If you Ubered home that would be great, since we live so close and you’re over the hill.”

Patrick pulls out his phone and orders the ride.

Elle steps away from the group and holds out her hand to me. “Come on, Trish. Let’s go get what you need while you’re at our place.”

“I’ll stay with them until their ride shows up,” Paul says.