Brave the Heat
Authors: Sara Humphreys
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #Romance, #Contemporary
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Copyright © 2015 by Sara Humphreys
Cover and internal design © 2015 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design by Dawn Adams
Cover art by Blake Morrow
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
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For my nieces…
“Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame.”
—Henry David Thoreau
Amber flames flickered swiftly along the faded walls of the old broken-down barn and lit up the June evening like a macabre bonfire. The heat from it seeped through Gavin’s gear, making him feel as though he was wearing nothing at all. Anger and determination shimmied up his back while he and the men in his squad worked to squelch the intense blaze.
It was burning too hot.
Gavin McGuire had experienced all types of fires during his years on the job, and the ones that moved with this kind of superheated intensity usually had some help.
He’d bet his life that this was no accident.
His face mask was meant to protect him and feed him life-giving oxygen, but it practically smothered him tonight. The sound of his own heavy breathing rushed in his ears, along with the crackling and creaking of the dry wooden planks. The haunting groans of the barn as it was devoured almost sounded like a cry for help. The death wails of a structure engulfed in flames were eerily similar to the cries of a human being. Those were the shrieks and screams that tormented his sleep.
The voices of the past rarely fell silent for long.
Dark memories—the ones that simmered beneath the surface and had driven him to this profession in the first place—threatened to bubble up and consume him. But Gavin stuffed them down. Fear was a self-defeating emotion and not one he could afford, especially while leading his team. These men depended on him to make the right call every time.
There was no room for error.
Sloppy mistakes, foolish choices, or unnecessary risk got people killed.
Dirt and gravel scuffed beneath his heavy boots and he grunted with effort, directing the thick hose and its powerful stream of water onto the flames. It was a beast. Fire was a mindless, insatiable, and relentless creature that consumed anything and everything in its path.
If Gavin didn’t stop it, the monster would keep on coming.
“Chief.” Rick’s voice came through the headset loud and clear, pulling Gavin from his thoughts. “We’ve got it contained, but this old barn ain’t gonna make it. She’s gonna come down.”
“Copy that.” Gavin nodded and focused on the flames that lingered along the western wall of the barn. “Have Engine Twelve’s pumper keep on top of the surrounding area and continue dousing the field. It was a wet spring, but we don’t want to take any chances. We’ve got four homes on the other side of this property that aren’t empty. Stay on top of her.”
“You got it,” Rick said, his radio cutting out with a crackling snap.
Gavin adjusted his stance and blinked the sweat from his eyes, while steam and smoke drifted up from the almost burned-out building. He moved in closer and continued his unyielding attack on the flames that struggled for life, gasping for air but getting little.
The beast wouldn’t win tonight.
“Pulling the fire alarm not only was foolish, but also put people in danger and wasted everyone’s time,” said Gavin McGuire, the fire chief in Old Brookfield, as he adjusted his heavy fireproof coat, the sweat trickling down his back. “What would have happened if there had been an actual fire in town and we couldn’t reach it in time because we were here dealing with your prank?”
The moment he had pulled into the parking lot, Gavin had known this would be a false alarm, and he went from concerned to angry in a blink. Mrs. Drummond, the principal, was out front with that look on her face, the one that hovered between furious and embarrassed.
The sandy-haired twin brothers shrugged and stared sheepishly at the floor. Dressed in flip-flops, baggy shorts, and graphic T-shirts, they looked like they’d stepped out of an ad for Old Brookfield’s summer tourist industry. Gavin loomed over the high school juniors. They squirmed beneath his inspection, to say nothing of Mrs. Drummond’s intense gaze.
His mind went to the suspicious fire call he’d been out on late last night, and anger shot through him. The arson specialist was supposed to take a look at the site today, but he was busy in a neighboring county and probably wouldn’t get to Old Brookfield until later in the week. Frustration nagged at Gavin.
Damn
it.
These two kids had no idea what they were screwing around with.
The darkness in Gavin—the part that drove him into burning buildings without a second thought—demanded that the pair of mischief-makers be taught a lesson. He knew that suspending them wouldn’t do much good. Hell, they’d probably spend the day playing Xbox. But a couple days working around the station might make them think twice before pulling a stupid stunt like this again.
“I’m sure Mrs. Drummond has plenty of ideas about how to punish you for this incident.” Gavin cleared his throat and squashed the voice of the teenage boy in his head. The one that said they were just boys being boys.
Bullshit.
He stuffed down the flicker of sympathy. Kids or not, this crap wasn’t funny. “But in case she’s not feeling particularly creative, I’d like to offer up a weekend of cleaning the engine and the ladder truck. And we could use help reorganizing some gear at the station house.”
“Aw, man,” Robert moaned. “It’s gonna be gorgeous out this weekend and school’s over next week. Jeez. We were gonna take out the new boat.”
“I could suspend you,” Mrs. Drummond said in a deceptively sweet voice. “But given that school is almost over, I’m willing to make an exception. I’m sure your parents would be less than pleased with an end-of-the-year suspension on your records, to say nothing of the colleges you’ll be applying to. Although, if you were to
volunteer
to help out at the firehouse for community service hours, then I imagine they’d be quite proud. Wouldn’t they?”
She folded her arms over her plump torso and smirked wickedly. Her hair, once jet-black and now streaked with white, was styled in her trademark bob haircut. The ends swung by her chin and framed her round face as she peered at the twins.
“Your choice, gentlemen.”
“Okay,” David said quietly. “We’ll take the community service hours.”
“Dude?” Robert whined and threw up his hands in defeat. “What the—”
“Shut up, Robert.” David elbowed his brother. Robert slumped back in the bench and mumbled something under his breath. David turned to Gavin. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt. Y’know? We were just screwing around. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Robert said in a practically inaudible tone. He lifted one shoulder as his cheeks pinked with embarrassment. The kid stared at his flip-flops again. “Sorry.”
* * *
After finalizing what time the boys would show up on Saturday morning, Mrs. Drummond escorted Gavin out of the main office. They started walking down the long hallway, and when they passed the brown bench outside the office, Gavin recalled sitting there more than once awaiting a lecture of his own. A funny feeling of nostalgia tugged at him. He didn’t consider himself a sappy guy or nostalgic.
He found looking back on his past too painful, for more reasons than one. No, it was better to look forward and keep moving. But walking through these familiar halls made it next to impossible for him not to think back and remember. The pale yellow walls were decorated with various construction-paper concoctions, everything from fire trucks to families, and Gavin couldn’t help but smile.
Even after all these years, the kindergarten-through-twelfth-grade school still felt like his second home.
“It’s all still so familiar, isn’t it?” Mrs. Drummond said. “Red construction-paper roses and haphazard clouds painted with pudgy little hands. You and your brothers had plenty of artwork up on this wall over the years. You McGuire boys left your mark on this school in more ways than one. Everything from football heroes to the occasional graffiti incidents.”
“True.” Gavin wiped sweat from his brow. “If memory serves, we
volunteered
for plenty of
community
service
hours of our own.”
“Yes, well. There were five of you. I only have one boy, and he’s responsible for every one of my gray hairs. Five boys,” she said almost reverently. “I still don’t know how your mother did it.”
“Neither do I. If you were to ask her, I think she’d tell you it was a combination of luck and love.” Gavin nodded. “She and my dad sure do have plenty of both.”
His parents had been married for almost forty years, and he still caught them kissing in the kitchen. Usually he’d tease them and tell them how grossed out he was, but truth be told, a part of him was envious. Envious that they’d found someone to love so completely.
A partner and friend to share their lives with.
Years ago, Gavin had thought he’d have that, but after getting his heart stomped on, he realized what his parents had was rare and probably not something he’d ever experience. The station was his home, and the guys on his squad were his extended family.
Brothers in arms, if not by blood.
“They have a big anniversary coming up, don’t they?”
“Yes, ma’am. Forty years, and between you and me, I don’t know how they did it either. They’re a special couple. I haven’t met many other people who have what they do.”
“Your mom told me the same thing the other day at bingo—luck and love.” Mrs. Drummond waved at a pair of pigtailed little girls as they quietly headed toward the lavatory. One of them clutched a giant wooden pass with
GIRLS
emblazoned on it. “That statement was quickly followed by her complaint that not one of you boys has gotten married and given her any grandchildren.”
“Right.” Gavin removed his helmet and swiped a hand over his sweaty head while avoiding the principal’s inquisitive stare. “Well, not all of us can be as lucky in love as my parents.”
“I guess you’re right.” Mrs. Drummond sighed heavily as an awkward silence settled between them. “They are lucky indeed. My Homer and I had twenty-five good years before he passed. Can’t complain though. I have a wonderful son, to say nothing of the six hundred children in this building.”
They stopped by the glass double doors that led into the vestibule at the main entrance of the school as the end-of-the-day announcements echoed through the halls on the PA system. A bake sale flyer dangled precariously from the glass window of the door, and Gavin taped it back up before it could go fluttering to the ground.
“We good to go?” Rick’s voice crackled from the radio on Gavin’s belt and his lieutenant sounded less than enthusiastic.
Rick leaned against the gleaming red-and-silver engine in the hurry-up-and-wait mode that all firefighters were accustomed to. They were in an all-or-nothing business but always had to stay on their toes. Gavin waved at him and snagged the radio from his own belt.
“We’re all clear, Rick. You and Bill take the engine back to the station, and I’ll see you in ten.”
“Ten-four.” Rick’s voice came through loud and clear as he climbed into the engine. “Don’t forget you’re cooking tonight—
unfortunately
. Which of your three delights will we be graced with?”
“Keep it up and I’ll make ’em all.” Gavin secured the radio back on his belt but didn’t miss the expression of amusement on Mrs. Drummond’s face. “I guess I shouldn’t have cut so many of Mrs. Beasley’s home ec. classes, huh?”
“Yes, if only you could have glimpsed your future, perhaps you would have picked up four or five recipes. After all, don’t you boys do a lot of cooking at the station?” she teased.
“Yes, ma’am, but lucky for me, the guys aren’t too picky.”
“Your mother is such a fine cook, I can’t believe you didn’t learn a thing or two.”
“She tried to teach me, but cooking never was my thing.” Gavin tapped his fingers on the helmet as he slung it under his arm. “Every time my mother comes out to my cottage, she rummages through the fridge and makes sounds of disgust. I only cook three different meals and the guys are sick of them. I’m a bachelor to the core.”
“You see?” Mrs. Drummond patted his cheek quickly. “That’s where you and I disagree.” She winked at him and lowered her voice to conspiratorial levels. “I think if anyone was meant to be a husband and a father, it’s you, Gavin. You’re protective by nature and looked out for your brothers ferociously,” she said through a chuckle. “And you’re from one of the most close-knit families I’ve had the pleasure to know. Sounds like husband and father material to me.”
“Me?” Clearing his throat, Gavin shook his head slowly. “Marriage and kids aren’t in the cards for me. Besides, the guys at the station can be immature enough to count as kids, and I work so much that you could probably say I’m married to the job. No, ma’am. I think that ship has sailed.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She folded her hands in front of her “That ship wouldn’t have been named Jordan Yardley, by any chance, would it? You two were caught under the bleachers by the football coach on more than one occasion.”
At the mention of Jordan’s name, a deep, hollow ache he’d all but forgotten bloomed in Gavin’s chest. Mrs. Drummond had inadvertently unearthed more pain from his past. Gavin shifted his weight as memories of Jordan flickered through his mind. More memories that he’d worked hard to forget, to shove aside as though they’d never happened. Why think about bittersweet moments from his youth when they would have no bearing on his future?
Yet in spite of his silent denials, images of Jordan filled his mind and memories of her fresh scent—lilacs and Ivory soap—lingered in his senses like a ghost. Haunting him with her sweet beauty. Sun-kissed skin; a lean, lanky body; honey-blond hair to her shoulders; and a toothy, white smile that could blind a man.
At least, that’s what she looked like the last time he saw her—fifteen years ago.
“That’s ancient history.” His face heated and he cleared his throat, hoping Mrs. Drummond wouldn’t see right through him. “Besides, she’s married to some big Wall Street fat cat now. At least that’s what my mother told me,” Gavin said with a dismissive wave. On the outside he was playing it cool, but his gut was twisted in knots. Mrs. Drummond had hit the nail on the damn head. “Has a couple of kids too, I think. Girls. Maddy mentioned something about it,” he added.
Maddy was the only friend Jordan had stayed in touch with and consequently Gavin’s only connection to her. He used to think about Jordan all the time, but as the years passed, his thoughts of her lessened in frequency if not intensity. Would Mrs. Drummond buy the act he was putting on and think that he didn’t gobble up every crumb of information he could get?
One night a few years ago, after one too many beers, he’d even contemplated getting one of those stupid Facebook accounts to see if he could find her, but that seemed creepy and he’d let the idea go.
Best to leave the past in the past.
“Yes.” Mrs. Drummond nodded slowly. “Two girls. Seven and five.”
“Besides, I’m too set in my ways,” he said quickly. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, the dating scene around here isn’t exactly hopping.”
“Fair enough.” Casting a quick glance out the windows, her grin broadened. “Looks like my next appointment is here. It’s been good seeing you, Gavin, though I’m sorry about the reason. Now, you make sure those two Heffernan boys do some real work at the station this weekend.”
She patted him on the arm and headed back toward her office.
“Yes, ma’am.” He stood taller and adjusted his jacket. “I’ll see to it.”
“And, Gavin?” She stopped outside the main office door and shouted back, “Don’t get too set in your ways. You never know what might be right around the corner.”
Principal Drummond’s round form disappeared into her office, leaving him alone in the hallway that had once seemed so much longer.
Gavin stepped out into the warm sunshine and exhaled slowly. All this talk about Jordan had him feeling tense and off his game. The flag on the massive white pole fluttered in the June breeze. The tall, white steeple of St. Joseph’s Church and a few buildings from town peeked out from amid the trees, which were capped by a cloudless azure sky. Old Brookfield was a perfect New England hamlet, and Gavin had nothing but appreciation for his hometown.
Turning his face to the early summer sky, he stood on the paved walkway and allowed the warmth of the afternoon sun to wash over him. A balmy breeze wafted past, and with it came the salty ocean air. The school was a couple of miles from the shore, but even at this distance he could smell the sweet scent of freedom.
