Feeding the Fire (15 page)

Leaving the fire station, he went down to where he’d parked his truck: a 1986 Chevy Silverado. It was hardly a glamorous ride; older than Grant was, the silver and burgundy paint was fading, it had rusty spots, and the seats squeaked with every bump in the road. But, it did the job it was intended to do.

As a southern man, Grant was obligated to own a truck. Grant only drove it when the weather was bad or he needed to haul something around. Today, weather had made the choice. It had been a cold, wet few days—typical February weather for Alabama—and he’d had to park the bike for a while. Not even his waterproof leather gear could fight off the bone-chill that set in at higher speed.

Starting up the engine and cranking the heat, Grant turned toward Pepper’s house instead of his loft. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d be received, but he couldn’t help it, the truck just instinctively drove that way.

He and Pepper had parted awkwardly on Monday night. He hadn’t meant to clam up when the conversation strayed to his father, but he also hadn’t wanted to ruin dinner talking about him. It had been a splash of cold water on the evening and it never really recovered. He’d driven her back to her car and went home to sleep in his own bed, alone.

Since then, life in Rosewood had been taken up by Estelle’s funeral. They had texted back and forth a couple of times, but he hadn’t seen her since he dropped her off outside the salon. He didn’t know if that was a long time or not in a normal relationship, but to him, it felt like years.

This was something he’d never had before. Something he never thought he would have. At least, something he believed he was doomed to ruin, like his father had.

“I’m not my father,” Grant said silently to himself. If he wanted Pepper in his life, he could make this work. He needed to man up and take his life by the horns or he would end up one of those pathetic old bachelors who tries to pick up women in the bar and makes an ass of himself. Somehow that seemed even worse than becoming like his father.

His truck rolled to a stop outside Pepper’s house. Her red SUV was in the driveway and the lights were shining through her covered windows. He tapped at her front door, waiting anxiously until she answered.

The door swung open, revealing Pepper in a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and Ugg boots. She’d pulled her red curls back into a ponytail, looking casual, but cute. And she was smiling.

“You’re just in time,” she said cheerfully.

He was? “Good. Just in time for what?”

Pushing the door open, Pepper revealed her living room, which was scattered with various lengths and sizes of laminated particle board. “In time to help me put together my new entertainment center.”

“Of course,” he said with a chuckle as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Lucky me.”

Pepper smiled and returned to her spot on the floor where she was reading the directions. In front of her was the start of the furniture—a set of three assembled cubes, one divided with a shelf for a Blu-ray player or DVR. “Grab yourself a beer from the fridge and join me.”

He grabbed a long-neck bottle from the fridge, slipped out of his coat, and sat down on the hardwood floor beside her.

He glanced over the instructions and handed her the piece labeled “F”. “How was your day?” he asked.

She shrugged, focused on attaching piece F to piece M with a wooden dowel. “It was a little slow today. After all the excitement of the auction and the funeral, things seem to have finally settled back down. How about you? Anything burn down?”

Grant held the wood so she could screw a number four screw into it. “Not today. It’s too cold and wet.”

The conversation lagged awkwardly for a few minutes as they worked on the shelf. This was what he was afraid of. She wasn’t her normal, chatty self. She didn’t greet him with a hug or a kiss. Pepper could be preoccupied, but odds were, he’d screwed up on Monday.

“Listen,” he said, setting aside the screwdriver. “I wanted to apologize for Monday night.”

Pepper looked at him with her brow furrowed in confusion. “Apologize for what?”

Grant mirrored her look of befuddlement. She didn’t even remember what happened, so she wasn’t mad at him. And yet, there was a distance between them that wasn’t there before. “Well,” he explained, “I was short with you at the restaurant. I don’t really like talking about my dad. I didn’t want him putting a damper on our night together, but it seemed to anyway. I didn’t know if you were upset with me about it.”

Pepper shook her head and set down the wood panel in her hands. “No. I understand how family stuff can be. I shouldn’t have pressed you about it. None of my business, really.”

“Then we’re okay?” he asked.

Pepper smiled and leaned in to kiss him. The contact was brief, her lips tighter than usual. “Yes,” she said, but he had a hard time believing her.

“Is something else bothering you, then? You seem a little . . . I don’t know . . . distant, maybe.”

Pepper sighed. “Sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind the last few days. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well, dump it on me. That’s what I’m here for. You’ll feel better if you can talk about it.”

“I really can’t talk about it.”

“Sure you can. You can tell me anything.”

She looked at him, a sadness in her dark brown eyes. “Not this.”

Grant didn’t like the way she said that. There was an ominous tone to her voice that worried him. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be keeping secrets from each other?” he tried to say in a joking way, but she didn’t smile.

“I know you’re Mr. Honesty, Grant. And I promise to tell the truth whenever it’s humanly possible, but I can’t tell you this. I need you to leave it at that.”

He was so stunned by her blunt words, he didn’t know what to say. “Okay,” he managed.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Grant let her change the subject. It was easier than trying to figure out what to do about this issue looming between them. “I work both days and then I’m off Monday and Tuesday. Seven on, two off, then I switch to night shift for another seven straight.”

Pepper winced. “Okay, then. I guess I won’t be seeing you much when you’re on nights. That’s a miserable schedule.”

He didn’t mind it. He wasn’t slaving away, standing on his feet twelve hours on some assembly line, so the long shifts weren’t as bad as they seemed. “I get off at six. I’ll be able to meet you for breakfast before the salon opens, maybe. Or a quick dinner after the salon closes.”

“Okay,” she said, her expression brightening. “That’s not too bad. What do you say we knock this entertainment center out and I’ll make us some grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“That sounds good to me.”

They focused on getting the rest of the furniture put together. It didn’t take long once they put their minds to it. Within the hour, they had the new entertainment center in place and Grant hooked up her electronics for her while she went to the kitchen to make grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Grant tried to focus on his chore, but he couldn’t keep the worries from creeping into his mind. What could possibly be so bad that she couldn’t tell him? He didn’t like secrets, and he certainly didn’t like his girlfriend keeping something from him so blatantly. Then again, who was he to point fingers? One mention of his father and he was looking for the exit. It seemed they both had things they didn’t want to share.

Chapter Fourteen

“We have a one-car rollover with possible entrapment,” the dispatcher’s voice barked through the radio. “Location on Interstate 59, northbound near mile-marker 153. HEMSI already en route. Assistance requested.”

Grant and Mack hurried out of the fire station and leapt into the truck. It had been a long and busy day already. They’d had a small warehouse fire, three car accidents, and an older man who fell and broke his hip. They’d had to break down the door for that one.

With only a half hour left in their shift, they got the call for another accident. Grant prayed it wouldn’t be a difficult one. He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was grab a burger and veg out in front of the television. Even better if he could do that with Pepper on the couch beside him.

He was hopeful she would accept the offer if he extended it. Last night had ended better than he expected it to when he arrived. Her secret had loomed over their dinner, but as the evening wore on, the worry seemed to fade away and things returned to normal. After they’d eaten dinner, they snuggled on the couch together and watched a little TV before heading to the bedroom. He’d reluctantly left around ten, knowing he’d have to be up and at work by six the next morning.

Grant hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he would happily spend every evening that way. Tonight included. Reaching for his phone, he texted her about bringing takeout and a movie to her house when he got done. She replied back a moment later that it sounded fine, no war movies, and to let her know if he’d be late.

“Found them,” Mack pointed up ahead as he spied the lights of the ambulance. He pulled over just past the scene of the accident. A small blue car had gone off the road and rolled into the ditch, thankfully landing right side up. Naomi and Isaac were down by the car.

They grabbed their equipment and slid down the steep, grassy embankment to where the car had landed.

“What have we got?” Mack asked.

“The guy says he was on his way home when a deer ran out in front of him and he went off the road. We’ve cut off his seat belt and removed the deployed air bags, but he’s driving one of those tiny European compact cars and he’s not a small man, so we’re having some difficulty getting him out. One of his legs is pinned by the dashboard.”

“Are his injuries serious?” Grant followed up.

“I think that leg is broken. He’s got a laceration on his forehead that’s bleeding like crazy, and I think he knocked a tooth out. Nothing life threatening, but I’d like to get him out fast. We got the engine turned off, but there’s a little bit of smoke that’s worrying me because I can smell gas leaking.”

“We’re on it. Grant, go check him out. I’m going to get the hydraulic cutter. I’m worried about that gas leak. I want him out as quickly as we can.”

Nodding, Grant continued down to where the car was. It was one of those little Smart cars, at least, that’s what it started as. Right now, it looked like a crumpled ball of blue foil. As he got closer, he was able to see the man in the car was covered in blood. Head wounds were notorious for bleeding.

As he took another step, a rock slid beneath his boot. He fell to the ground, sliding down the embankment and hitting the back of his head on the case of equipment he’d carried with him. The hard whack of the metal against his head reverberated in his skull for a minute. His brain swam in the sea of confusion as darkness threatened to swallow him.

“Grant?” Isaac hovered over him, shining a flashlight into his eyes. “You okay?”

Blinking away the light, Grant winced and pushed himself up into a seated position. He touched the back of his head, but he wasn’t bleeding. There was just a knot rising up. “Yeah. I uh . . . slipped. I’ll be okay.”

Isaac helped him back up and returned to what he was doing. Grant dusted the grass off his pants, picked up his case, and headed back to do his job. He had work to do, no matter how badly his head was starting to pound.

The dashboard had collapsed in the rollover, pinning the man’s leg beneath it. They had almost no room to maneuver. They could cut away the side of the car, but there was no backseat and very little hatch space, just a steel cage that had managed to protect him but wasn’t so inclined to release him.

He picked up the radio at his hip, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his skull. “Mack, bring the ram, too. That might work better than the wood blocks with the way the dash is sitting.”

“Is Roscoe okay?” the man in the car asked.

“Roscoe?” Grant turned to Naomi.

“Yes, Mr. Barker. We can see Roscoe in the back. He seems to be all right.”

Grant leaned over to see the small dog carrier in the back of the car. Inside was a little black-and-white Boston terrier. They needed to get the pup out of the car and out of the way so they could maneuver the driver’s removal.

Turning back to Isaac, he asked, “Will the back hatch open?”

Isaac went around and with a hard tug was able to jerk open the rear hatch window, then lower the bottom half, like the tailgate of a truck. Grant reached in and picked up the dog carrier. The dog wasn’t bleeding and didn’t exhibit any injuries, like favoring a paw. He was likely just shaken up from his bounce around the hatch when the car rolled. Grant said a few soft words to calm the little thing and sat his carrier a few feet away, well out of the work zone.

When he returned to the car, Isaac reached through the hatch and supported the back of the man’s seat as Grant pulled the lever to lower it backward.

“Does that take any of the pressure off your leg, Mr. Barker?” Naomi asked.

“Some, yeah.” Mr. Barker tried moving his leg and was able to shift it a little to the left. “It’s still pinned.”

Grant heard Mack yank the cord to start the hydraulic power unit. He turned to help him hook up the hoses and get ready to peel away the metal. Beside him was a tote bag full of two-by-fours that they used to prop doors and other heavy objects. “I think if we can use the ram to push up the dash and hold it in place with the wood, we may be able to get his leg out. Then we can cut away the side and slip him out that way, or through the back of the car.”

Mack handed over the ram and the bag, and Grant rounded the car to try to open the other door. It opened about a foot before squealing to a stop, but it was enough for him to get in and kick it open further with his boot. From there, he could lean onto the floorboard and wedge the ram into place. The ram expanded to almost double its length, pushing the collapsed front of the vehicle back almost to where it had been before the accident. He wedged in pieces of wood to support the gap and hold it in place after they removed the ram.

Mack cut off the driver’s-side door and started peeling the rest of the side away like a tin of sardines. The sound of it grated against Grant’s already throbbing head like nails across a chalkboard. Naomi and Isaac moved the gurney into place. After a few more minutes of cutting and negotiating the twisted metal, they were able to free Mr. Barker’s leg. They hoisted the man onto the gurney and Mack helped them up the steep embankment to the ambulance.

Grant was slowly easing back the ram when he noticed the smoke rising from the engine block. The black cloud was almost as thick as the fuzziness in his own mind. The smoke hadn’t been that bad before, but shifting around the dash could’ve made something worse. He pulled the last of the equipment out, rounding the car. He scooped up the power unit and helped Mack haul everything back up to the truck.

“Hurry!” Mack shouted.

The car was smoking in earnest now, thick, black clouds billowing out from under the hood. The paint on the hood was starting to blacken and bubble, with flames licking around the edge. “Grab the extinguisher.”

They got the man out just in time, but they had to contain the fire. With the rescue truck, all they had was the fire extinguishers they had on board. If they could put out the fire before the fuel tank caught, that would be enough. The tanks were designed not to blow, but if there was a leak in the line . . .

“Radio for the night shift to meet us out here with the fire truck, just in case,” Grant said, carrying the extinguisher down to shoot foam at the car from a relatively safe distance.

“Don’t forget Roscoe!” Mr. Barker cried from the back of the ambulance.

Crap. Grant looked to the right where the dog carrier was still sitting. The scared pup started whimpering as he got close. Poor little guy. He could smell the smoke and he was scared to death.

“Hey there. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Grant said. The dog looked up at him with wide, trusting brown eyes and the funny sort of grin that bulldogs seem to have. Grant set down the extinguisher and grabbed the carrier to hand it up to Mack.

With the dog safely stowed in the ambulance with his owner, Grant returned to pick up his fire extinguisher and put out the flames before they got too much worse. While he was dealing with the dog, the flames had spread into the cab, lighting the fabric seats and the duffel bag that was sitting on the passenger side.

“I’m going to need more!” Grant shouted to Mack and lifted the nozzle to put it out. He was only a few steps from the car when he heard a loud hissing sound.

His normal reaction would’ve been to run, but his brain was simply not cooperating with his body. Before he could do anything, the car exploded and everything went black.

“Is he okay?” Pepper asked as she rushed into the hospital waiting room.

Mack was there, along with Blake, Ivy, Maddie, and Hazel. Blake stood up when she arrived, giving her a nod, followed by a hug. “He’ll be okay. Mom and Dad are in with him right now. They said they’re going to release him tonight.”

“What happened?” Practically speaking, Pepper knew serious injuries were always a possibility with his job, but she wasn’t expecting to get that text from Ivy so soon.

When she didn’t hear back from Grant about their dinner plans, she thought maybe the accident was bigger than they anticipated. She didn’t want to text him while he was working at saving lives. An hour went by. Then two. Then three. When her phone finally chirped, it was Ivy’s text and her worst fears were suddenly very real.

“I guess I can’t blame him since he had a head injury and was in shock,” Mack said, standing up from his seat, “but the guy didn’t tell us that he had a portable tank of propane in his duffel bag. At the time, I didn’t think the car was going to catch fire or we would’ve checked for flammables. When the fire spread to the cab, the tank exploded. It blew Grant back about ten feet through the air and set his shirt on fire.”

“He was burned?” Pepper felt her chest ache. Ivy had left out any details in the text and just told her to meet them at the hospital. For all she knew, he’d been completely engulfed in flames or had a leg blown off.

“His left forearm got the worst of it,” Blake explained. “He’ll be out of work for a few weeks until it heals up. Riding his motorcycle might take longer, depending on how well he can use the clutch.”

The doors to the waiting room opened and Grant’s parents came out. Pepper was unprepared for the visceral reaction she had to seeing Norman Chamberlain for the first time after learning the whole story from her mother. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to claw his eyes out or kick him in the junk that had caused all her mother’s troubles.

She balled her hands into fists and took a deep breath. Neither was appropriate. For one thing, those eyes were the same as Logan’s. And Grant’s. She might hate Norman, but she couldn’t hate the beautiful blue eyes that she stared into as she lay with Grant. For another, tonight was about Grant, not about what happened almost thirty years ago.

“How is he?” she asked.

Norman narrowed his gaze at Pepper. She could tell he was trying to place her and figure out why she was here. Fortunately, Blake stepped in.

“Dad, this is Grant’s girlfriend, Pepper.”

Norman nodded and put his arm around Helen’s shoulders as she sniffled into her tissues. “I know who she is. You’re Kate Weaver’s girl, aren’t you? You look just like she did at that age.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied through gritted teeth. “It’s Kate Anthony now.”

“Of course, she married the fellow from the gas station.” There was a smirk curling his lips that made his blue eyes seem to twinkle with amusement. Did he think it was funny that his mother had been put in that position? “I saw him at the funeral with your brother. How’s he doing since his stroke?”

Pepper took another deep breath, trying to ignore the way he so casually referred to her brother as though he were no more significant than any other of her family members. “He’s doing better. We’re hoping he can return to running the shop soon.”

“How’s Grant doing, Dad?” Blake asked, no doubt sensing the tension between the two of them.

“Fine. They’ve got him on IV antibiotics and fluids. He’s got a good dose of morphine in him at the moment to help with the pain. They don’t think the burn is serious enough to need surgery at this point, but they said it depends on how he heals.”

“Can I take Pepper back there with me to see him?”

Norman nodded. “They were about to give him a tetanus shot and unhook his IV when we left, but they’re probably done now.”