Burned Page 4

  Lola grinned and threw out her hands. “Problem solved. You got caught up in something unsavory in Venezuela. You got out. I’m pretty sure what happens in Venezuela stays in Venezuela, don’t you think? There’s nothing to confess to Jackson.”

  Blaire winced. “That’s what I hoped until I glanced at your newspaper in the break room.”

  “Oh, dear. What did you see?” Lola grabbed her wine glass and chugged a couple of swallows.

  “Karlos. Didn’t you read the headline?” Blaire swiped her hand through the air.

  “Oh, no,” Lola said, eyes widening. “You got caught up with that playboy?”

  “As opposed to the next playboy?” Blaire’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Lola’s dreadlocks bobbed as she shook her head. “No, I only meant…I took a look at that picture and thought, ‘that guy looks dangerous.’”

  “He not only looks dangerous, but he is dangerous. While I may not have murdered anyone, I know for a fact that he has personally shot and killed dozens of individuals.” Blaire felt the color leak from her face. She placed her palms on the table to steady herself.

  Lola grimaced. “No wonder you don’t want to tell Jackson. I wouldn’t either.” She flicked her painted nails with her thumb as if trying to rid herself of something extremely unpleasant. “So, you and your superhero have a good relationship overall, right?”

  “Well, there’s his brother,” Blaire said, cautiously.

  She glanced to the left as Ryder came into view from the staircase, and clamped her mouth shut.

  He beelined toward their table.

  “Can I get you anything?” He smiled between them. “Another bottle of vino? Would you like to see our small bites menu?”

  Blaire’s stomach growled, reminding her she forgot to eat lunch today. “I’d like something to eat. What about you, Lola?”

  “Oh, it’s a ‘more wine for me’ kind of conversation.” Lola glanced up at Ryder. “Bring us another bottle of Pinot. And a menu for her. I don’t want anything to sop up the alcohol in my system.” Her face looked pinched.

  Ryder nodded and spun on his heel.

  After he left, Lola said, “So tell me about the brother. Is he on drugs?”

  Blaire choked out a sound. “Why would you say that?”

  “My brother is.” Lola huffed out a sigh. “He’s a piece of work, that boy.”

  Blaire’s shoulders drooped. “Yes. Jake is a user. He takes advantage of Jackson’s good heart to fund his cause.”

  “Oh, been there. Done that. It’s a matter of boundaries, that course of action.” Lola pursed her lips. “Now my bro is on to other family members since I cut him off. It can’t be helped—he is who he is—but he doesn’t get to be who he is on my dime.”

  “That’s what I keep telling Jackson. But his brother is it for Jackson. Jackson’s mumbled something about ‘no other family I care to discuss,’ but that’s it. He and Jake grew up in Port Coyote.”

  “So, you know nothing about his past either?” Lola shook her head. “Girl, you and the J-boy aren’t setting a good foundation for a healthy relationship, I can tell you that. Sounds like you both carry a shitload of secrets.”

  Ryder tromped toward them, bearing a menu and another bottle of Pinot Noir. When he stopped next to the table, Blaire took the menu from him, and he got busy uncorking the wine.

  “Crab cakes,” she said, tapping the plastic-coated menu.

  “Excellent choice,” he said, placing the opened bottle on the table. He whirled away and retreated.

  Blaire took another sip of wine. The wine had done a great job of blurring her edges. “So, I gave Jackson this, ‘you’d better get your bro under control or else’ chat last night. But I don’t want to lose him.”

  “It’s so obvious you are both crazy for each other, I can’t see that happening. Whenever I see the two of you, I swear unicorns are going to take me to their happy place through fields of glitter. But I understand.” Lola drummed her long nails on the metal tabletop while contemplating the ceiling. “Didn’t you tell me the sex between the two of you is off the charts?”

  “Oh, my God, yes,” Blaire said, her core lighting up with affirmation. “We can’t get enough of one another.”

  She took another sip of her wine.

  “Well, fun fact, here. My mother is a sex therapist.” Lola’s cheeks flushed.

  Blaire nearly spat out her wine. “And you didn’t tell me this, why?”

  “People guard their secrets.” Lola flashed her a sheepish smile. “And it’s nothing I was eager to share. Growing up with a parade of dysfunctional sexual head-cases coming in and out of my home is nothing to brag about, I assure you. I was embarrassed, and I mean embarrassed to bring anyone home. My own sexuality was confusing enough. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be attracted to. I didn’t want to end up on my mother’s couch being analyzed.” She took a gulp of wine. “Anyway, one of the things dear old Mom drilled into me was this: ‘Don’t let the sex mask the issues.’”

  “What does that mean?” Blaire asked, furrowing up her face. Catching movement in their direction, she glanced over to see Ryder, plate in hand and striding in their direction. She mimicked zipping her lips.

  Lola nodded.

  Setting down the plate with a dramatic flourish, Ryder looked her right in the eyes and said, “I asked the chef to sneak you an extra crab cake. I told him you were Hollerback’s girl and you’re having a really bad day.”

  He winked.

  A wave of gratitude flooded Blaire’s heart. “And just like that, he did it?”

  “I told you…your guy was a favorite around here. Everyone likes Jackson O’Halloran. Tell him that. Tell him to bring you here sometime so we can all say hey.”

  “I will,” Blaire said with a lopsided grin. “We’ve been, uh…” Fucking like rabbits whenever we’re home at the same time. “Busy. We’ve been busy. But we’ll get down here again, don’t worry.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Ryder drummed his fingers on the table and flashed his megawatt smile. Then, his forehead creased slightly.

  “What?” said Blaire.

  “It’s nothing,” said Ryder, directing his gaze at the table.

  “No, what is it?” she insisted.

  He lifted his gaze to hers. He looked at Blaire somberly and said, “I’m especially glad he’s found you and you’re happy together. He never shared much, but it always seemed like secrets lurked just beyond the surface, or some great pain lay hidden underneath, or something, you know?”

  Do I know? Blaire frowned. “Sure,” she said. “But as far as I can tell, the only secret he’s keeping from me is whether he likes brownies more than lemon meringue pie. I bake for him a lot.” She winked, trying to keep things light. What secrets could he have that I don’t know about?

  “I’d say both—lemon meringue on some days, brownies on the others. I’m sure Hollerback feels that way. Secret solved.” Ryder’s grin reappeared. “Listen to me. What do I know about anyone’s secrets?” He shook his head, knocked his head with his knuckles, and then spun away and tromped out of sight.

  Blaire watched him disappear. Have I seen great pain lurking beneath the surface? Jackson seems like a standup, practical kind of guy.

  The smell of buttery seafood teased her nostrils. She picked up a fork, sliced a bite of crab cake, and dipped it in the accompanying aioli sauce. An explosion of textures and tastes filled her mouth.

  “Oh, wow, these are to die for.” She waved her fork at her plate. “Are you sure you don’t want some?”

  “No, none for me, thanks. Anyway, about Jackson.,” Lola said, swishing her hand.

  Blaire nodded.

  “Right. So, tell me, what does ‘don’t let the sex mask the issues’ mean?” she said through a mouthful of crab.

  “Well,” Lola said, “the way Mom explained it…she said you can have great sexual compatibility with someone, but it can cover other issues.”

  Blaire’s eyes narrowed.
“Go on…”

  Lola looked away. “And, you know, once you address the issues you might find you each have no interest in one another.”

  Her gaze slid back toward Blaire.

  As Lola’s words worked their way through her brain, Blaire’s grip on her fork tightened. She blinked rapidly.

  “Are you saying Jackson and I might not be as compatible as we think we are?” Her voice emerged like a shrill stranger.

  “What? No…no, no, no. That’s not what I’m saying. I was merely repeating the clinic-speak I heard on the regular from Mom.” Lola leaned backward, a pained stare on her face.

  Blaire blinked. Is that what we’re doing? “Did she…Did your mom have any suggestions as to…how to overcome the issues?” she squeaked.

  “Oh, sure. Mom has an answer for everything.” Lola rolled her eyes. “She said it takes deep commitment. You have to be willing to sit down face to face with your partner on the regular and cool it on the sex. If it’s used to mask issues, it will only get in the way. And you work through the issues one by one with a brave heart. She also suggested counseling but then why wouldn’t she?” She snickered.

  Blaire stared at her, unblinking.

  Lola met her gaze, and her expression sobered. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry I said anything. Here you are spilling your guts about something that must have been awful for you, and now I’ve gone and made things worse. You must hate me right now.”

  “No,” said Blaire, pushing back thoughts of losing Jackson.

  We’ve been so happy—haven’t we? So why did I give him an ultimatum? Is Lola right?

  “Honey, honey. Me and my big blabbermouth. I’m sure you and Jackson will be all right. Forget I said anything.” She reached for the wine bottle, refreshing her glass.

  “Oh, sure,” Blaire said, in what she hoped was a breezy manner. But the damage had been done. A seed of insecurity had planted itself in her heart and taken root. Now, not only did she have to deal with spilling her guts on a secret that she should have told him months ago, she and Jackson might have bigger issues to deal with, after all.

  Her appetite had vanished. She set down her fork and contemplated her next move. The only thing that came to mind was to run.

  Chapter 5

  Jackson sat in the classroom at Station 43, listening to another firefighter and paramedic, Cassandra Walker, give a statement about the fire that had occurred the day before yesterday, which had taken two innocent lives.

  Five, if you count the pets.

  He looked toward the window, seeking an escape of any kind. He could think of a million other things to do besides rehashing the recent past and dealing with his feelings. Even snaking a clogged shower drain sounded more appealing.

  The windows were shielded by thick blue curtains. An American flag stood on one side of the whiteboard at the front of the room. Their firefighting station insignia hung on a stand at the other side of the whiteboard.

  His mind kept scooting out the door, out the building—anywhere but here in this circle of peers. He forced his gaze toward each of his teammates.

  No one met his gaze. Everyone seemed absorbed in his or her own thoughts.

  A similar, but far less tragic, gloom hung over Jackson’s entire world. Oh, sure, he and Blaire had patched things up before going to bed night before last, but the weight of his brother hung heavy around his neck. He knew he had to do something—he just didn’t know what.

  “So, I was on overhaul, chief,” Cassandra said from her seat next to him. She reached behind to fidget with her curly brown hair ensnared in a hair tie at the back of her neck. Her hands dropped to her lap. “With Hollerback,” she added. She lifted her thumb toward Jackson.

  Chief Kowalski, the duty chief yesterday, sitting across from Jackson in the circle, regarded him with an unfocused stare. He folded his arms and rested them on his huge belly.

  Cassandra cleared her throat. “We were in what looked like a children’s bedroom. I found the unburned remnants of a child’s toy and blanket.”

  Mark Hubbard, who sat to Jackson’s left, bobbed his foot.

  “O’Halloran saw it first.” Her voice cracked. “The, uh…” She cleared her throat again. “The first body. We, uh…” She took a deep breath to compose herself. “We found five bodies all piled together in the corner, near a window. Three pets and, um…” She pressed her lips together. “And um…two children.” Her voice emerged raw and hoarse.

  Someone across from Jackson sobbed.

  He didn’t look up to see who made the outburst.

  “It, uh…it looked like the kids tried to get the window open, but they, uh…” Cassandra stopped, wiping tears away from her eyes. “They didn’t make it.” Her voice fractured. “There was a metal tool handle near where the window should have been.”

  She pressed the heels of both hands into her eyes. Once she’d regained composure, she said, “That’s all I have.”

  “Thank you, Walker.” Chief Kowalski fixed his kind brown eyes on her, before turning his attention to Jackson. “O’Halloran?”

  Jackson stood. “It was like she said. We had to uncover the bodies with a trash hook. I didn’t want to believe my eyes, but…” He glanced at his wristwatch without tracking the time. “Two kids. Two dogs. One potbelly pig. All incinerated. The parents later confirmed our findings.”

  Earlier, Jackson had overheard Griffin interviewing them. The assholes didn’t look as shocked as they should have.

  His mind drifted to a time when he, age ten, and his brother, age twelve, had arrived home to find their dog, Bebop, convulsing inside the trailer. Someone had poisoned her. Dad had disappeared again on some drunken spree, and Mom, the heroin addict, was long gone. They’d had to beg the neighbors for dog food to feed Bebop. And now, Bebop lay dying before their eyes. With no money for a vet, his brother had taken a shovel to Bebop’s head as Jackson had sobbed. Bebop had been the one good thing in his life. They’d waited until dark to carry her stiff body into the woods. After that, they’d never had another pet—not while they still lived together.

  His gaze lifted toward the ceiling as he fought back the tears.

  “O’Halloran?” The chief brought him back into the moment.

  “Sorry, sir, I…” His attention flitted around the room before landing on Kowalski. “Can you repeat the question, Chief?”

  “There wasn’t one. It’s simply your turn to share.”

  The chief wiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Then, he nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “We searched the house. Callahan still had the nozzle on the alpha side, but there wasn’t any evidence of further fatalities.” His mind went completely blank, so he sat down and stared at nothing.

  “Hubbard?” Chief Kowalski said.

  “Excuse me, Chief.”

  Mrs. Rodriguez, the guidance counselor, brought in for this occasion, straightened in her seat. A practiced smile spread across her pleasant-looking face. “This might not seem important to recall your tasks on the day of the event, but it helps to get stuff out in the open.” She spread her hands, palms up. “We can all get a picture of what happened. Then, we’ll discuss how it affected you. This is a safe place to share. Nothing leaves this room, understood?”

  A few people nodded.

  As Lieutenant Hubbard shared his story, Jackson’s mind drifted out of the room. At times like this, he questioned his career.

  Inherent risk always hovered at the edge of his job. Yes, people sometimes died, lost their homes and their livelihoods, and for that he was sorry. But his team also saved lives and structures, too. And no other job in the entire world appealed to him. He’d arrived on this planet with the heart of a firefighter. He loved fighting fires. He dug the camaraderie with the department—they were the family he never had. But witnessing the loss of a child ranked right up there with the worst kind of incidents.

  The evening droned on with the rest of the team giving their accounts of the fire.

  Then, Mrs. Rodriguez sa
id, “now, let’s go around the room and share what you felt about the experience. I realize you’re all exceptionally courageous individuals, but a tragedy involving a child can bring the toughest firefighter to his or her knees.”

  Jackson shifted, restlessly.

  A few others glanced at the door.

  “Miss Walker, why don’t you start?” Mrs. Rodriguez said.

  Cassandra began to cry. “I don’t have kids,” she stammered. “But, if I did, I would never have left them unattended like that.” She continued with her sharing, but Jackson didn’t track her words.

  Cassandra nudged him.

  The face of Jovantay Macavelli swam through Jackson’s mind like a shark. Tell them what you know. Tell them a drug dealer was put in charge of the kids. A cold sweat formed on his neck. Shit. I can’t do that. How would I supposedly know Macavelli’s a dealer? I heard it somewhere? I can’t say he’s my brother’s dealer.

  “Sorry. Lost in the moment.” He mumbled something about what a tragedy it was and shut up.

  His body froze into numbness as others gave their accounts.

  When everyone had finished sharing, Mrs. Rodriguez said, “Thank you all for coming. I know this wasn’t comfortable or easy for anyone. But, this is what we do to heal. We’re a family. And families help one another through tragedy, as well as celebrate our successes.

  I’d like you all to make an appointment with myself or one of my colleagues to get some counseling. Even if you think you don’t need it, we’re making this a requirement to at least sit down with us one on one. Okay?”

  Jackson nodded, along with the others.

  “Loss is extremely difficult to deal with,” Mrs. Rodriguez continued. “I can’t begin to imagine what those parents are experiencing. Some of you may have faced losses in your life, already. You know what it feels like to lose a loved one. If you’ve never experienced a loss, see if you can try to picture what it would be like. Use that to help empathize with the victim’s family.”

  Jackson thought about what it was like to lose both his parents at an early age. For years, he lived with an aching lump in his heart. But then, he found Blaire. What would I do if Blaire left me or, worse, died before her time by someone’s idiocy like those kids did? He couldn’t believe that would happen. He refused to believe he would lose her. Nope, he simply had to come up with a solution for his errant brother—one that he could commit to.