Forever After (10 page)

“The plan?” He grinned. “So you’re admitting there
was
a plan.”

“No! I just meant—” She looked up, and seeing him laughing silently, she slugged him in the bicep. Hard.

“Ow!”

Her hands went to her mouth and her eyes grew wide. “I’m sorry.”

He rubbed the tender spot, impressed with her punch. “You must have grown up with brothers.”

She giggled. “No. A sister. But she was a tomboy.”

“Well, now that you’ve managed to change the subject and deflect the blame, I guess I have no choice but to consider ol’ Sparky here.” He bent to scratch the dog behind the ears again. “When does Bryn need to know?”

Jenna shook her head, blond curls bouncing against her cheeks. “Probably the sooner the better. I know it would help her out so much if you’d take him. Thanks.”

He held out a hand in protest.

“I know, I know, you’re just considering. That’s all I’m thanking you for.”

“Okay. Glad we got that straight.” He grinned.

She answered with a smug roll of her eyes. “You ready to go?”

He was in no hurry to end their time together, but she started turning off lights, so he followed her outside and waited for her to lock up Bryn’s apartment.

Walking to his truck, he fumbled for an excuse to prolong their conversation.
Duh, Vermontez
. The whole reason he’d invited her to go for a drive in the first place was the tears streaking those pretty peaches-and-cream cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about … why you were crying?” he risked once they were settled in the cab of his pickup again.

She fiddled with the charm on her necklace, and stared at her lap.

“Sorry.” He shook his head, feeling chastened by her silence. “None of my business.”

For a moment that seemed to go on forever, she didn’t say anything.

But then she looked up at him with a sigh, and the dam seemed to break. “I guess I didn’t think very far ahead. I—didn’t realize how much freedom I’d be losing by moving in with my in-laws—
former
in-laws,” she corrected.

That seemed like a no-brainer to him, but he refrained from saying so. He glanced at his watch and shot her a grin. “So, do you have a curfew?”

She gave an unladylike snort. “How’d you know? Clarissa said they—meaning
she
—didn’t want to have to worry about me lying in a ditch somewhere.”

Lucas laughed. “Oh, boy, I’ve heard that one before. My mom,” he explained, turning onto Main Street.

She cast a sideways glance. “Don’t tell me
you
have a curfew?”

“No, but not for lack of trying on Ma’s part.”

She looked sympathetic. “Don’t get me wrong—Bill and Clarissa have been wonderful to me. I don’t know how I would have survived without them this past year. But I’m kind of at their mercy, and I’m not sure how long I can—”

Jenna stopped short as the wail of sirens broke the silence of the
nighttime streets. On instinct Lucas hit the brakes and checked his mirrors. He knew those sirens as well as he knew his own voice. Clemens County Fire District. Adrenaline shot through his veins. The sirens were coming from Station 2.

As if on autopilot, he headed toward the station. Cresting the hill, he switched on the police scanner radio under the dash and fiddled with the dial, trying to catch the frequency. He hadn’t turned the thing on in weeks. No reason to.

The strobe of red-white-and-blue lights on the street ahead made him punch the brakes. The ladder truck and a pumper were pulling out of their bays, lights flashing, sirens blaring.

The radio squawked to life and the dispatcher’s voice cut in and out. “Fire reported in progress … Engines en route … Grove Street homeless shelter …” The cryptic phrases Lucas could catch sent a surge of adrenaline through him. It was a good feeling.

He hit the gas, swerved to the outside lane, and headed toward the back of the station.

The fire engines were out of sight now, the sirens fading into the distance.

11

L
ucas screeched into the parking lot behind the station, and Jenna reached for the grab handle above the passenger door and braced her feet against the floorboard as if she had a brake pedal on her side of the vehicle. What was he doing?

The truck fishtailed and he slammed on the brakes and shoved open his door. Using the door as a crutch, he slid to the ground in one smooth motion.

She gripped the handle tighter. “Lucas? What’s going on?” Surely he wasn’t going to try to go help.

Not answering, he took off across the pavement toward the firehouse, his gait labored but steady. Jenna held her breath, watching through the windshield as he negotiated a patch of grass that ran between the curb and the sidewalk. She breathed easier. He really was doing so much better now—

He staggered and stumbled forward, apparently tripped up by something in the grass. He landed facedown on the sidewalk.

She gasped and fumbled for the door handle. “Are you okay?” She scrambled down from the pickup and ran to his side.

He groaned and rolled over, easing up to a sitting position. He grabbed his left leg, his face contorted.

“Are you all right?” she said again, offering him a hand.

But he ignored her and slammed his fists onto the concrete like a football player who’d just missed the winning touchdown pass. Jenna backed away, scrabbling out of his range.

She stood helplessly and watched as he rolled onto all fours and tried in vain to stand. Cursing, he fell prostrate, forehead to the ground.

She couldn’t tell if he was writhing in pain or humiliation, but given his harsh rejection of the help she’d offered, she hesitated to approach him again.

The fire engines were out of sight now, the sirens fading into the distance. After a few seconds of indecision, Jenna went to the pickup and retrieved his cane from beneath the seat where she’d seen him put it earlier.

She slammed the door of the truck and took a step toward him. “Lucas?” She risked another step. “Do I need to get help?”

He looked up at her, agony written on his face. “I’m fine.” His voice was stone cold. “There’s nobody here anyway. They dumped the station on this run.”

She held out the cane to him and he took it without a word.

“Do you want a hand up? How can I help?”

“I’ve got it. Thanks,” he grunted.

She bit her lip. She was only trying to help. What did he think he could accomplish by going to the firehouse in the first place? If she’d understood the dispatcher, the alarm was at the homeless shelter. It might be nothing … a false alarm. She hadn’t heard any other sirens. But why would they have sent all the engines? The thought stirred too many memories.

Before she could react, Lucas staked his cane in the ridge between the
sidewalk and the grass and hauled himself to his feet. But he took one staggering step toward the truck and groaned.

She hurried to where he stood on one wobbly leg. “Let me help you—please.” Not waiting for permission, she slipped her arm around his waist, bracing her legs to bear his weight. “You’re hurt.”

He didn’t argue this time and used her shoulder and his cane like crutches, one tentative step at a time until they stood in front of the truck.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No, I can drive. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You fell pretty hard back there.” She pointed back at the sidewalk.

“I’m fine. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

Stubborn man. She shrugged and skirted around the bumper. Climbing into the truck, she resisted the temptation to slam the door.

A minute later he was back behind the wheel, massaging his leg. He put the keys in the ignition, turned the engine, and threw it in gear. He started to back out of the parking lot, but instead slipped the gear back in Park.

He sighed and turned to face her. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You didn’t deserve that. I was …” He rubbed his face, hiding behind his hands. He stayed that way for an uncomfortably long time.

Several lights blazed inside the station, but she knew the building was empty. She wondered again how he’d intended to help if anyone had been left at the station.

Finally he put his hands down, his profile outlined by the lights. He turned to her but refused to meet her gaze, sitting instead with one elbow on the steering wheel, staring out the windshield. “That was humiliating,” he finally whispered.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Don’t be so sure. My pride may be fatally injured.”

She laughed, relieved to see a glimpse of the Lucas she knew. “It
was a very graceful fall actually.” True, but that hadn’t made it any less frightening to watch.

“Ha!” He peeked briefly in her direction. “I know better than that. But you’re sweet to say so.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “Not that it’s any of my business, but where were you going?”

“I—” He rubbed the space between his dark eyebrows and shrugged. “Something just kicked in when I heard the sirens. I felt like … like I needed to be here. Like I had to help.”

“Wow.”

“I know … weird. You’d think after a year I’d be over it.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant ‘wow’ that you have that kind of dedication.”

“Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes. “For all the good it does me.”

“It’s still a noble thing, Lucas. To have that desire.” Her words felt stilted and awkward, but they were what came to her. Along with a memory. She hesitated, then decided to share it with him. “I remember once when we were on vacation in Colorado, we’d stopped for gas in some little town off the Interstate. We drove by their fire station just as the trucks were leaving. Zach followed them five or six miles out into the country. There was wheat stubble burning out of control, and Zach rolled up his sleeves and helped them fight that fire until it was out.”

Lucas smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. “That sounds like Zach all right.”

She hesitated, then risked putting a hand on his arm. “It sounds like you, too.”

“Uh-huh. And here I sit helpless as a baby while my buddies are out there risking their lives.”

She stared at him. Did he really not see? “Lucas. You’re sitting in this truck, with that cane, because you
already
risked your life. Who knows how many more people would have died that night if it wasn’t for you?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I appreciate the thought, Jenna, but the
shelter had been evacuated by the time we got there. We were looking for a man who wasn’t there. Maybe never was there.”

“It doesn’t matter, Luc.” She flushed. She’d shortened his name without thinking about the intimacy it implied. “What you did was an act of heroism. And you’ll be paying—suffering—for it to some extent for the rest of your life.” She pointed to where his cane leaned against the console.

“It doesn’t feel like heroism. It feels like stupidity.”

“Lucas, stop it. You act like it’s your fault that you almost lost your legs in the fire. Your life! You were the lucky one. You made it out alive. You have so much to be thankful for. So much to live for.” She knew even as the words left her mouth that they would sound empty and patronizing to him. She knew because they would have been the same to Zach. “I’m sorry. I know that sounds trite.”

He offered a smile and met her eyes for the first time since he’d climbed back into the pickup. “I appreciate your intentions.”

“Ah, good intentions … You know what they say about those—pavement for the road to hell.”

“No, I mean it. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

She shrugged, just wanting to change the subject.

Lucas changed it for her. “You know what? I’m hungry. Let’s go get a hamburger.”

“Now you’re talking some sense.” She laughed, feeling as if this evening might turn out okay after all.

Her cell phone gave a muffled ring. “Sorry. Hang on.” She dug the phone out of the belly of her purse and looked at the caller ID. Clarissa.

“Hello?”

“Jenna, is everything okay? Bill said he heard sirens a little while ago. We’re worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Clarissa. I’ll be home in a little while.”

“Well, I’ve got dinner on. I’ll keep it warm for you.”

She willed her voice to remain steady. “No, that’s okay. We’re going to grab a burger. Please don’t hold dinner for me.”

“We? Are you with Bryn?”

“I’ll see you this evening. I’ll be home around nine or so.” She hung up before Clarissa could grill her further. A low growl escaped her throat despite her efforts to hold it in.

“That was my—” Her phone trilled again and she checked the ID. “I don’t believe this. Do I look like I’m twelve years old? Wait—don’t answer that.” She tossed her phone back into her purse and stuffed it under the car seat.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose it would be appropriate here to ask what on earth were you thinking, moving in with your in-laws?”

“I love my in-laws. I really do. Clarissa and I are friends. At least I thought we were. But lately it’s like they think they own me.”

“So, do I need to take Cinderella home, or are we still going for burgers?” His smile was closer to a smirk.