Rekindled (24 page)

“Rylee, oh God, Rylee,” I say wanting to wrap myself around her, but don’t because I don’t want to cause her more pain.

“C-Callie,” she says as her chest rises and she tries to move her hand, but cries out in pain.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” I say scooting closer to her and hooking my fingers with hers. “Tate’s calling for an ambulance. You’re going to be okay.”

“C-C-Callie, I’m scared.”

“I know,” I say, letting my eyes roam over her little body, trying to see what else might be broken. “But help will be here soon, okay? The EMTs will be here soon and they’ll make this all better.”

Mud cakes her cheeks and forehead and smeared blood is clinging to her nose and lips. I strain to hear the whine of an ambulance, even though I know there’s no way they’ll be able to get to us this quickly. She blinks slowly as her body shivers and a hoarse cry escapes her lips from the pain. Even though my jacket is ripped in various spots, I tear it off my body and gently lay it over her, before reaching out to wipe away the rain drops from her face.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it that long,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, you are. Don’t say that. You’re going to make it. You’re going to be fine.”

“It hurts,” she says as her eyes begin to drift closed.

“Rylee, stay with me,” I demand as I fight the throbbing in my head and push onto my knees, resting on the heels of my feet. “Keep your eyes open, Ry-bear.”

She swallows and I feel her fingers wrap tighter around mine. She opens her eyes and groans again. “I love you, Callie. Will you be sure to tell Tate and my dad I love them, too?”

“No, you listen to me, you’re going to be able to tell them yourself. As soon as the ambulance comes, we’re going to get you to the hospital and you’ll be able to tell them. And then when you’re released, we’ll all go get ice cream together, and I promise, Rylee, I promise, I will spend the rest of my summer with you, okay, Kiddo? It’s just you and me.”

She tries to smile as her eyes roam over my face, but they look glassy and unfocused.

“Do you believe in heaven, Callie?” she asks as her eyes drift close again.

“Yes, I do,” I say letting my hand run over her cheek. “But you don’t need to think about that. Not for a long, long time.” In the distance I can hear the sirens wailing into the air and relief flutters to life. “You hear that, Rylee? Do you hear the sirens?”

“Do you think there’s animals in heaven? My dad says that the ones you love most will be waiting to greet you when you get there. Do you think my old dog Charlie will be there?”

“Rylee, stop it. You’re not going anywhere, you hear me?”

“Tell my family I’ll always watch over them.”

I squeeze her hand and she tries to squeeze it back, but it’s weak and I can see the life draining out of her. “Stay with me. Just a little bit longer, I can hear them. Help is coming. They’re almost here.”

She sucks in a ragged breath and I clutch her fingers, praying that she holds on just a little bit more. I can hear the sounds of men’s voices and the distinct squeal of tools against metal. They must be trying to peel Tate out of the car. Turning so that I’m facing them, I draw in a deep breath and use the last of my energy to scream. “Help! Down here! Help, please, hurry!”

My heart feels like it’s trying to punch its way out of my chest when I hear the sloshing of boots as they trek through the mud. “See, Rylee? They’re here, you’re okay.” I turn back to look at her and press my fingers to her lips, brushing away the rain that’s dewed on them. She feels cold. I adjust the jacket to try to help keep her warm, but when I move the jacket, I realize her chest isn’t moving anymore.

Leaning over her, I try to listen for her breath, but there’s nothing. “No,” I whisper as my hands grip her shoulders. “No, no, no. C’mon Rylee, you’re okay. The ambulance is here to take care of you. You have to be okay. Please. Please, I need you to be okay.”

Flopping down into the mud, I adjust her so that my arms are wrapped around her body, but her arms dangle lamely by her side as her head lolls. “I’m so sorry,” I say as sobs begin to wrack my body. “This is my fault. You only unbuckled your seatbelt because Tate and I were fighting. I shouldn’t have let his words get to me. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted. But I did. And now you’re gone.” I rock us back and forth, whispering into her ear, as if I could breathe life back into her. But she doesn’t move. “I’m so sorry, Rylee. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Miss?” a voice calls out from behind me, but I ignore it. I can’t accept that she’s gone. “Miss? Are you able to hear me?”

A pair of arms wrap around me, prying me away from Rylee as I kick and scream at the man holding me. “Let me go! Let me go! I need to save her!”

A group of EMTs huddle over Rylee, blocking my view from her as the man hauls me away. “Miss, please stop kicking me. I need to inspect you and make sure you’re not injured.”

I want to keep pummeling the man. I want to kick him until he’s broken and bleeding, making him feel every ounce of pain that I feel, but I have no energy left in me and the throbbing in my head is making my vision blurry, so I let him carry me back to the ambulance to inspect me. As he’s finishing, I look up and see Tate in the opposite ambulance, and our eyes meet. His eyes search mine, and no words are needed as I know the question he’s asking. Rylee? I shake my head no and then watch as his heart breaks.

A quiet knock on the door pulls me from the memory. I wipe the tears from my eyes and trudge over to the front door, fully ready to admonish Caleb for forgetting his keys, but when I swing the door open, the words die in my throat.

“Tate,” I manage to croak out.

The porch light glows around him, highlighting the water that’s soaked into his clothes and running down his face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, peering around him to see if Julia’s waiting in the car for him, but there is no car. And there’s no sign of Julia.

“Can I come in?”

I nod silently since my voice seems to have jumped ship along with my sanity. I don’t know why Tate’s here in the middle of the night, asking to come inside, but I know nothing good can come of this. My head is screaming to ask him to leave. To remind me that he’s engaged to be married to another woman. But my heart… my heart wants to spend as much time with him as I can. My heart’s a damn masochist.

He steps inside, and his fingertips brush against my hip as he moves. My breath hitches with the touch, and I know he sees the reaction when his eyes flit to my chest which is rising and falling at a rapid speed now. He drags his gaze back to mine, and I swallow hard. Turning my head, I stare at the blank TV screen, hoping it’ll snap me out of whatever
this
is.

“What are you doing here, Tate?” I ask making sure my eyes never leave the TV screen.

I don’t have to see him to know he’s standing next to me. I can
feel
every move he makes. My whole body hums with awareness when he’s around, like when we were created, we were attuned specifically for each other.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says.

I blink and turn to look at him.

“I’m fine.”

“Really?” he says as he steps in front of me and his hand reaches out to brush my hair away from my eyes. “Because you don’t look like you’re fine.”

His fingertips graze my cheek and I instinctively close my eyes and lean into his touch. I hate my instincts. I hate that he feels so familiar, and I hate that I crave his presence even when I shouldn’t. But mostly I hate the way being around him makes me feel things I’d thought I’d long since buried.

“Well, thanks for your consideration, but really, I’m okay,” I say as I take a step back from him, needing to put some space between us.

“Really?” he repeats, taking another step toward me, closing the gap between us. “Sweetheart, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but you can’t lie to me. This,” he gestures towards my face which is probably red and puffy from crying by now, “is not you being okay.” He folds his arms over his chest and pins with me a scrutinizing glare.

I shrug and turn away from him, unable to handle looking at him. I fluff the decorative pillows on the sofa and wipe away invisible dust on the coffee table, pretending that having him in such close proximity to me doesn’t affect me. Pretending like the memories from years ago aren’t resurfacing, suffocating me until I want to just curl up into a ball on the floor and cry myself to sleep like I have so many times.

I hear him move around me and when I glance up, I see him standing in front of the window, staring out at the lake. A haunted expression appears in his reflection as he presses his fingers to the glass and closes his eyes.

“You know what I miss most about her?” he asks. I don’t respond, unsure whether he actually wants an answer from me. “I miss the things that used to drive me crazy when she was around. Like those stupid limericks she would always make up, or the way she’d make me sit with her stuffed animals when she was playing tea time.”

I grin at the memory of walking in on them one time, years ago when Rylee was seven. She’d made Tate wear one of her mother’s Derby-looking hats that she found in her dad’s closet, and she’d placed all of her stuffed animals around the kitchen table as she poured everyone imaginary tea.

I lower myself to the sofa and clutch one of the decorative throw pillows to my chest. “She had a great imagination. There was no such thing as boring when it came to her.”

“That’s for sure. Do you remember when she gave me a haircut while I was sleeping?”

“Oh my God, I totally forgot about that. Your dad was so pissed.”

He chuckles and turns around to look at me. “Yeah, the barber had to practically shave my head after the number she did with a pair of scissors. Pretty sure she wasn’t allowed to use them while unsupervised until she was ten because of that.”

“She’d have a field day with your hair now.” I point to the strands of wet, dark hair that cling to his face.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get it cut, but things have just been so crazy lately with all the fires.”

“I can cut it for you now, if you’d like.”

The instant the words leave my lips, I want to pull them back in. The last thing I should be doing is asking him to stay longer. I’m already confused as it is, and yet, I know I’m not going to ask him to leave because a sick part of me needs to feel this pain. Needs to remind myself that I deserve to feel this.

“I’d really like that, Callie.”

I head back into the kitchen with Tate following close behind and pull out a chair, placing it next to the sink before gesturing for him to sit. I grab a couple towels from the guest bathroom and place one on the rim of the sink and then grab my salon kit and shampoo and conditioner from my bathroom upstairs.

“Do you miss this?” he asks as I turn on the faucet and test the temperature with my hand. I freeze with his question, not quite sure whether he’s referring to doing people’s hair or spending time with him. “Cutting hair, I mean,” he quickly adds on.

“I do,” I say as I drag the detachable faucet and turn the sprayer on, running it over his hair. “I honestly didn’t really realize how much I miss it until now, though.” Reaching over I grab the Johnson & Johnson
No Tears
shampoo and squirt a dollop in my palm before lathering it through his hair. “Sorry, you’ll have to have kid shampoo. It was either that or my Herbal Essences and I didn’t think you’d want to smell like peaches.”