Fire at Dawn: The Firefighters of Darling Bay 2 Page 11

“Yes.”

  “Lexie. We can still go backward. But if we go forward, I’m not going to be able to get over you. Do you understand that?”

  In answer, she kissed him. “Forward,” she said against his mouth. “I want forward.”

  In her head she heard the word she wanted to say, Always. She couldn’t say it. But she heard it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Coin was used to waking up in strange beds.

  At the station, they all had preferred dorm beds, but if you worked a shift with a guy on overtime who had more seniority and liked your bunk, you got booted to your second-or third-favorite. So when he opened his eyes to find himself looking at a bookshelf, he just blinked.

  But he wasn’t at the station. There was no air filter running at high volume, no sound of early risers working out in the engine bay.

  He wasn’t at home.

  The wall behind the bookcase was yellow.

  Lexie’s favorite color.

  He grinned, memories from the night before flooding his mind. The look of her, underneath him, soft and warm and perfectly everything he’d ever imagined and a whole hell of a lot more. Her eyes when he made love to her. The way they’d clung to each other afterward, as if they’d both found exactly where they needed to be.

  She’d fit into his arms like she’d come home, and Coin had wanted to stay there forever in the dark, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe.

  He rolled over, wanting to see her, to touch her. She’d be there, sweet and gorgeous, and he’d kiss her again. And again. There was nothing in the whole wide world like kissing Lexie. He didn’t want to do anything else, ever.

  But she wasn’t there. Her pillow was cool but her spot under the covers was still warm, so she couldn’t have gone far. He sat up, smelling coffee.

  Coin helped himself to a mug and found Lexie on the front porch, wrapped in a yellow terry robe. Instead of sitting on the porch swing, she sat on the top step, as if waiting for someone. When the screen door closed behind him, she didn’t turn around.

  “Good morning, darlin’,” he said.

  She didn’t answer. Her shoulders were hunched, as if she was in pain.

  “What’s wrong?” He set the mug on the rail and sat next to her.

  She just shook her head. Her hair was a mess of red curls and her eyes had the shadows under them she got when she couldn’t sleep.

  “Tell me, Lex.”

  “You just called me Darling.”

  “Darlin’. It’s very different.”

  “That’s my work name. That’s how we go on the radio. Every firefighter calls me that all day. I can’t …”

  A cold shard of fear pierced him. “You can tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

  “No, I mean I can’t do this.”

  It was like a gut punch. Coin pulled back. “Excuse me?”

  “Us. I can’t do this.”

  “We did do this. I thought … last night …”

  “Was a mistake.”

  Confusion filled him. He took a sip of coffee but it was bitter in his mouth. “Lexie, we talked about it. What changed?”

  She covered her face with her hands, and stayed quiet.

  Old Mrs. Finch walked past with Clancy, her Great Dane who was almost as tall as she was. Coin nodded in response to her surprised “Oh!”

  Lexie glanced at him, her eyes full of tears.

  “Lex. Tell me. Tell me all of it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to do this to you.”

  “What can’t you do?”

  Turning to face him, she said, “Don’t make us do this.”

  “We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to.” Where had this come from? She’d gone to sleep almost purring in his arms.

  “It can’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re in love with me.”

  It was true. Coin figured probably every guy in the station and certainly every woman knew it. Hank had told him outright that he knew. Tox had told him, too. Coin protested out loud at every opportunity. But now? He wouldn’t protest. He’d hire a skywriter to tell everyone. “I am.”

  “See, that’s—”

  “And you’re in love with me.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What?”

  “You’re in love with me, too.” Coin knew it, suddenly. He knew it in his bones. He’d felt it before, a million times. The way they laughed together all night in the ComCen, the way they tended to gravitate toward each other all day in the station, as if they were stuck in orbit around each other. The way her eyes lit when she saw him. She didn’t look that way at anyone else.

  But more than that, he’d felt it last night when he’d held her.

  And he felt it now, even though she looked more surprised than if he’d given her a pony. “Tell me you’re not.”

  She started to speak, her face confident. “I’m …”

  He leaned against the porch rail and took a sip of his coffee.

  “I’m …”

  “Go ahead, say it,” he encouraged.

  Her eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare tease me. I hate you.”

  “And …” He moved his hand in a go-ahead motion. “And you …”

  “I love you,” she snapped. “Of course I do. I love all my guys. I don’t date them. Any of them. Ever. But I love my firefighters.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Coin said easily, sure of nothing more. “You’re in love with me.”

  Instead of looking happy about it, she looked stricken. “Oh, damn,” she said. “I am.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It was true. He was right. The knowledge landed on top of Lexie’s head like a load of wet laundry, heavy and cold.

  She couldn’t be in love with him. She just couldn’t.

  Next to her, Coin laughed, a round, joyful sound. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “No.”

  “Lexie?” He touched her shoulder but she shrugged him off and stood.

  “You have to go.”

  “Darlin’.”

  “Don’t call me that. Look, you’ve always said you’ll do anything for me, right?”

  He nodded. His eyes held a look that Lexie couldn’t bear to see. “Anything. Name it, Lexie, and I’ll do it.”

  “Then go.” She paused, locking her hands in front of her as if that could protect the heart she hadn’t even known she’d lost. “Don’t ask me anything else, not for one other single thing. I’ve already told you the truth, that should be enough for you. Do you have your keys?”

  He nodded.

  “Just go.”

  “That’s what you want from me? That’s truly what you want?”

  “And don’t come back. Not like this. We can’t do this. Friends, Coin, that’s what we are. At work, we’ll be friends, just like always.” Her voice thinned and she pictured for a moment Coin casually bringing her coffee in the morning, telling her about the date he’d gone on the night before. She heard, rather than felt, her heart start to break. “That’s all we can ever be. I can’t love a firefighter, Coin. I can’t lose another one. In the middle of the night I still hear them yelling.” She meant the firefighters who had come up screaming that night her father died, and she knew he understood that. “I promised myself.”

  Coin grimaced and rubbed the side of his jaw, where the stubble was growing in thick. Just an hour ago, she’d been pressed tight against him, kissing him right there while he slept. She knew how sharp the stubble felt against her lips, and for a second, she wished they could be back in bed again, back to the time before she realized she’d screwed it all up.

  “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”

  She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She only nodded.

  “Are you sure?” His voice was rough. She heard heartbreak under the words and felt her own heart shatter to match his.

  “It’s what I want. It’s what I need.” And without waiting to watch him leav
e, Lexie went into the house. She shut the door behind her and leaned, her palms flat against the wood.

  Last night, he’d carried her in the house as if she hadn’t weighed a thing. She’d loved that, that he could toss her around like she were a bag of groceries. Later, he’d carried her to bed, where he proceeded to have his talented way with her. In the past she’d dated men she was terrified she might break, skinnier than she was with lightweight limbs. She’d never been a fan of having to be careful like that. Last night, Coin had given as much as she had. Where she nipped, he bit back. He’d pinned her arms over her head, and she’d wrapped her legs around him, not letting him go. Then, when they’d held each other to sleep, she’d felt supported. Safe.

  Coin always made her feel like that. He’d always made her feel safe, she realized. It was a lie—he was the most unsafe thing in her entire life.

  Her phone rang. It was either Coin wanting to come back, or her mother, the only person who ever called her at this hour. She looked at her phone. Coin’s number wasn’t displayed.

  “How did your date go?” trilled her mother.

  She knew, goodness only knew how. Darling Bay was small, but it had an incredibly high big-mouth-per-capita. At times, Lexie had enjoyed this. Right then, it wasn’t the town’s best feature.

  “What are you trying to ask, Mom?”

  “Coin Keefe? Really, Lexington?”

  Lexie groaned and slid sideways so she was lying on the couch, her feet propped on the armrest. “So?”

  “So. He’s got a child.”

  “He does. Serena’s awesome.”

  “He was married!”

  “He’s not now. That’s the important part, right?”

  “I don’t trust those eyes of his.”

  “How well do you know his eyes, Mom?”

  “He was at your Christmas party last year. He told me he was thinking of getting a motorcycle.”

  “And he did.” Lexie had ridden on the back of it once in the station’s parking lot. Now she looked back at that moment and realized that yes, maybe she had enjoyed that a little too much. As if it were yesterday, she could remember the breadth of his back against her chest, and the feeling of resting her hands at his waist. Why didn’t she know then? Why did this come as such a surprise?

  “I always said don’t ever date a man with a motorcycle. The mortality factor is too high.”

  “I’m a fire and medical dispatcher, Mother. I’m aware of the fatality rate—not the mortality factor—and I’m not worried about it because I’m not dating him.”

  “Why was he at your house this morning?”

  “Having coffee.”

  “At seven in the morning?”

  “Do you have a camera on my house?”

  “Mrs. Finch told Mabel Mellor who sent me an email.”

  Lexie glanced at the wall clock. Less than ten minutes. That’s how long it took gossip to get to her mother in this town. “Well, he’s not here now.”

  “Did I tell you about my friend, Marge Bondy?”

  Lexie sighed. No matter what, a story that started with “did I tell you about” never ended well with her mother. “No.”

  “I met her on Facebook in a widow’s group, but she’s a good friend now. Her husband was a firefighter.”

  “And he perished horribly in flames,” said Lexie tightly. “I get it.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s not polite. Her husband died in his sleep of a massive heart attack.”

  “Brought on by the stress of being a firefighter?”

  “Stop it. No, I don’t think they thought that’s what caused it. He was unhealthy anyway. Diabetes in his last years.”

  Lexie felt mild chagrin. “Oh. Sorry. What about her?”

  “Her daughter died,” said her mother triumphantly. “She was a firefighter, too. While she was on scene of a freeway accident, a car hit her as it passed by. Knocked her right out of her work boots.”

  She should have known. “Got it, Mom.”

  “I’m serious. Don’t date a firefighter.”

  Lexie rubbed the tension that had suddenly built up in her shoulders. “I said I got it. I won’t.”

  “You won’t? Really?” Her mother’s voice was two shades lighter.

  “He doesn’t mean anything to me,” Lexie said. Her throat ached.

  “Oh, thank goodness. Now, I have to ask you. How do you feel about florists? Because I met a man named Kenneth who said he has a son he’s desperate to get out of his house.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The first call of the day was from PD, a drunk guy in the bushes. Coin was the one lucky enough to find him, and doubly lucky to be the one the guy chose to vomit on while they were taking vitals.

  The second call was for a rattler in a back yard. Usually animal control would handle it, but they were closed, and the people in the house were having a birthday party that afternoon, so Tox killed the snake and then Coin drew the short straw to dispose of the body. Hank just laughed when they got back in the rig. “Puke and rattlesnake blood, two liquids we never thought we were signing up to handle, huh?”

  The next call—Lexie gave it to them even though they’d requested to return to the station for cleanup—was to change the batteries in an old lady’s smoke detector that she couldn’t reach.

  “I’m not going in,” said Coin, hitting the brakes too hard in front of the battery house. “I’m filthy, and if I go in there, the woman will probably dump battery acid in my lap or something. I’m staying out here.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Hank said cheerfully.

  But Tox, their captain, said, “You’re coming with me. You think I don’t know that Samantha lives next door?”

  “And saying hello to her would be … wrong?” Hank had been hovering around Samantha Rowe for months now.

  Tox said, “If I have to change a stupid battery, then I need backup, and Coin stinks too bad.”

  Coin sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel. It was already the worst day ever, and it just kept getting better. Every time Lexie spoke on the radio, he felt ill.

  Coin had screwed it all up by moving too fast.

  He shouldn’t have pushed her to admit she was in love with him—he’d known it was true, but it seemed as if she hadn’t. The realization had been a shock to her system, and it hadn’t seemed like a good one.

  And then should have stayed. He should have planted himself firmly on her porch and refused to leave. But the whole point was that she never asked him to do a thing, and that he’d always said he would do anything for her. What he’d meant by that was that he’d take a bullet for her. Step in front of a train. Drag her prized possession out of a four-alarm fire.

  Take her to Bora Bora.

  Not leave. The first thing she’d ever asked him for was for him to leave. He couldn’t have said no. But by acceding to her wish, Coin knew he’d lost her forever. By now she’d probably talked herself out of feeling anything for him. He’d seen her do it before. When her dad died, she’d refused to talk to anyone, saying she was fine. She’d maintained that party line until HR believed her and let her come back. But he’d seen her that first week back on the job. She had literally white-knuckled it. Whenever anyone was looking at her she seemed like her good old Lexie self, laughing and joking with the guys and with the other dispatchers. He’d overheard her manager tell Lexie that she shouldn’t handle the next fire. Someone else could do it. That very night they’d gotten a good one-alarm room-and-contents fire, and Lexie hadn’t given up control. She’d handled the radio as she had every one of her other fires—like a pro.

  But one time, that first week she was back, he’d been working outside the dispatch window trimming the hydrangeas that grew in their large planter. He’d looked in and had caught sight of her, her fingers wrapped through and around her headset cord as if knitting it between her hands. Her face had been stark white, her lips pale. Her eyes had held the unshed tears it had probably taken all her strength to ho
ld back.

  Even then, years ago, he’d wanted to go inside and ease her pain.

  The only thing she’d ever wanted from him was for him to leave.

  Coin groaned and got out of the rig. He needed to move, to stretch his legs. If he stood in front of the engine, he’d be able to see the wharf from here. Maybe that would help. He doubted it. Really, the only thing that had helped was Serena this morning at her mom’s when he’d dropped off a book she needed. She’d hugged him hard and said, “Don’t look so sad. If you can’t fix a problem, you’re not trying hard enough.”

  This he didn’t know if he could fix. Yeah, he would try his hardest, but besides being the love of his life, Lexie was also the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. She didn’t change her mind quickly or easily. Ever.

  He sat on the rig’s fender. Below, the road wound into town, and over the tops of the roofs came the sound of barking seals and the metal dings of sail lines hitting masts. Another gorgeous day in paradise.

  No wonder he felt like hell.

  “Hey, buddy, can you help me?”

  To his right, a short man with a shaved head wearing an old black T-shirt and jeans that had seen better days, shuffled forward, his hand extended. His fingers were as dirty as his face.

  Darling Bay had two homeless guys, both named Pete. The Petes were harmless, and the Darling Bay council let them have a key to the city garage in the winter so they’d stay dry. When firefighters went to pump gas, either the younger or the older Pete would help, washing as far up a window as he could reach, which was never far. They were cheerful, harmless fellows who knew everyone.

  Coin didn’t recognize this man, and something about his eyes made him stand up off the bumper. “What do you need help with?”

  “I just got this thing, I need you to check it out.”

  Fabulous. He’d probably get a closeup view of the guy’s junk in a minute and have to street-diagnose some rash. Maybe the guy would pee on Coin’s shoe, then his day would be completely perfect. He looked over the man’s shoulder toward the house but neither Tox nor Hank had come back out yet. How long did it take to change a dang battery? She was probably one of those who said “a battery for my smoke detector” but actually meant “I’m lonely, please fix my screen door and my dryer while you’re here.” They got their fair share of those calls.