Sweet Southern Nights (Home In Magnolia Bend Book 3) (23 page)

“Who you are?”

“Look, Matt essentially said the same thing. My track record with relationships ain’t great, and I don’t want to hurt Eva. Better to nip whatever it is we have going on in the bud,” Jake said.

“Okay, first, you’re taking advice on your love life from a man who is separated from his wife and one whose only lasting romance was with a woman on the computer. No offense to Matt or Clint, but they don’t know shit about women.” Abigail crossed her arms and used her green eyes as lasers.

Jake twitched but acknowledged silently she had a point.

“And second, did you even ask Eva if she wanted you to step aside? Seems like calling something quits should be something you decide together. It’s rather egotistical of you to think you can call the shots on your own.”

And those words jabbed him in the gut. When he had called her Saturday afternoon, it had taken every ounce of strength to blow her off. He’d been like a automaton, never veering from the words he’d practiced the night before. He didn’t want to let her see the emotion, the devastation of realizing he was bad news for her. The idea she had a say-so in the situation had never crossed his mind. He’d been trying to protect her, to do what Clint suggested— something selfless for once in his life.

“And finally, this whole image thing. You know that’s bullshit.”

“What?”

“The idea that people will put you in a box and define you. You know that was one of the reasons I held myself back from Leif? I cared too much about what other people thought of me, of what they expected. After Cal left me and I pretty much embarrassed the hell out of myself, I became overcautious about how people perceived me. I didn’t want to be seen as weak or give anyone cause for criticism. And then came Leif, about the polar opposite of propriety. I hid my love for him because I thought it was wrong. I covered my true nature with a veneer of the perfect mother, daughter, sister—”

“I never thought you were the perfect sister,” he cracked.

Abigail flipped him off. “You know what I’m saying. You have assumed this role in this town—the rebel bad boy. No one ever knows what Jake will do, right? You’ve cultivated this thing, but it’s designed to deflect any prying into why you stayed here, why you tread water in life.”

“I’m not doing that,” Jake said, knowing he was a liar as he said it. His sister saw exactly what he’d hidden all these years. He didn’t want anyone to look too closely, to see that he was unhappy being Jake Beauchamp. He didn’t want people to see the coward he was.

Abigail took a step toward him. “Jake, you can’t play at being someone because it’s expected. Because if you do, you’re living scared.”

Bingo.

“I’m not living scared,” he said. “And I’ve already had this talk with Dad. He said what you’ve said, and it sounds all rah-rah cheerleadery, but that’s not reality. Not everything can be tied up in a pretty bow. I lost my innocence long ago.”

“Another load of crap,” Abigail said, turning and sinking down beside him on the rail of the trailer.

For a few minutes Abigail didn’t speak. They both stared out at the pretty fall day, at the leaves yellowing, the grass giving up, too.

“You weren’t ever going to stay here in Magnolia Bend, remember? For that fact, neither was I,” she said, her green eyes wistful. “I let Cal take that from me, but you let guilt tie you to this place. Everyone knows that, Jake, especially Clint. That’s why it’s so easy for him to manipulate you. And so you stayed like a punishment.

“Look, you’re an important part of this community. You’ve saved lives, but you’ve done your penance for the accident. And thing is, you did nothing wrong that night. Anyone would have done what you did. You tried to help a friend, and what happened was beyond anyone’s control. There’s no blame. Sometimes in life shit happens. But it’s beyond time to let that go. It’s beyond time to get up from the altar of self-sacrifice you’ve been draped across for years.”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked out at the old slave cabin.

“It’s okay to want Eva, Jake. You’re not taking anything away from the universe that you’re not supposed to have. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to sever the cords you tied yourself up with years ago. I know. I did the same thing and now I’m a different person. No, I’m a better person because I let go of the bullshit.”

Abigail wrapped an arm around him and gave him a little squeeze. “Now let’s haul this to the garage. I gotta pick up Birdie today because Leif’s teaching late.”

A half an hour later, Jake drove out of Laurel Woods, Abigail’s words gnawing on him. He’d thought he’d done the right thing. Yeah, it hurt. Sort of like cutting off his arm so he might live. But maybe he’d done it for no good reason. Had he allowed himself to be manipulated by Clint, influenced by Matt’s own marital struggles?

He didn’t know.

Probably.

But the question still sat there like a fat bullfrog—could he and Eva really work?

A week ago, he would have given a fist pump and shouted “hell, yeah.” But now, after weighing reality against desire, he didn’t know. What if something inside him was busted and he couldn’t fix it? Or what if he had been overthinking everything?

He needed to talk to Eva. Not some rehearsed blow-off, but a sincere conversation about his doubts and his feelings.

Time to let go.

Like that song he kept hearing all the little girls singing over and over again last year. Let it go.

CHAPTER TWENTY

E
VA
HAD
NEVER
worked with Cooper Platt before and after an evening of listening to him complain about having to watch what she and Dutch liked, complain about the way Dutch ate with his mouth open and then baby talk to his girlfriend for forty-eight point seven minutes straight on his cell phone, she was certain she might strangle him.

When she’d arrived at work and received the news that Jake had switched shifts, she thought she might cry.

“Where’s Jake?” she’d asked.

“On a new shift,” Hank said, inspecting the engine as he liked to do before his shift. Hank had OCD and thus she always felt prepared for any call that rolled their way. The man was fanatical about everything being perfect on the truck and inside the station.

“What? When did this happen?”

Hank shrugged. “Chief called me yesterday.”

“Who’s taking his place?”

“Coop.”

“Did Jake say why?”

“Nope,” Hank said, turning from her. “But last shift you and him were weird and then I heard something from Marilyn Boutte about Jake and Clint fighting over you. That’s gonna be a problem, Eva. You know.”

“It’s not a problem. Jake and I aren’t anything.” At least not at that moment. But maybe they had a shot and, if so, they’d have to figure things out with the department. Eva wasn’t sure they had a fraternization policy. Still, she and Jake were the same rank, so there could be no issue...until Wendell retired and one of them moved up.

Hank eyeballed her. “Jake’s Jake. Probably got pissed at Clint for liking you. You know those two have a jealousy thing between them. And you definitely have an admirer.” He pointed toward the door leading inside the station.

Eva made a face and then went inside to find a huge bouquet of white roses and a card. They were from Clint and the card simply read
I’m sorry
.

She wanted to smash the vase. How dare he send her flowers? He owed her a face-to-face apology. And he damn sure didn’t have the authority to send her flowers...as if he was still vying for her affections.

“Oooh, I don’t think any one of us has ever received flowers before,” Dutch trilled, clasping his hands and batting his eyes.

“Stuff it, Dutch,” Eva growled, ripping up the card and tossing it into the trash can. “I don’t want them. Take them to your wife. Maybe your old ass will get laid.”

Then she stomped back to her room, shutting the door on Cooper’s annoying laughter.

And that had been her introduction to the new and not improved C shift. Needless to say, she went to bed early that night. As she lay there in the lumpy bed in her paneled room at the firehouse, she longed to talk to Jake. But his message had been clear. He was staying away from her.

What kind of move was left to her? Did she confront him? Wait on him to come to his senses? Yeah, that one wasn’t a good one.

Or maybe she should just—

The alarm sounded.

“Ah, shit,” Eva breathed, struggling out of her T-shirt and reaching for her bra. Tugging on the blue uniform pants she’d abandoned in the corner, she gathered her hair into a knot, stretching the elastic rubber band around it. She really wasn’t in the mood for this tonight. She was still catching up on her rest from nursing Charlie through his illness, and she’d slept badly since Jake dumped her. Going out to what was likely a false alarm would prevent her from getting the rest she so badly needed.

She pushed out and joined the guys in the bay. “What’s up?”

“Alarm went off at Burlison’s Tires. 911 dispatch said visual confirmation of smoke by someone driving by.”

“Probably Jimbo drunk again and smoking near the alarm. He got out of line when God handed out brains. We’ve had two false alarms this year from that moron.” Dutch huffed and puffed getting into his coat.

“Let’s go,” Hank called, ignoring Dutch’s comments.

Eva slid into her overalls and bunker coat, pulling the Nomex hood in place. Already she could feel the cloying heat of the oppressive uniform. Then she grabbed her SCBA tank and tucked her helmet under her arm. She slid into her jump seat and then remembered for the first time ever that Jake wouldn’t be there beside her.

“Can you give me a hand?” Cooper said, indicating the flap of the Nomex hood that hung out.

“Sure.” Eva helped Cooper and then looked over at Dutch, whose bunker coat still had Velcro issues. “You really should fix that.”

“I tried. I need to send it off but we don’t have an extra one that I can fit into. Moon took it.”

Hank hit the lights and sirens and everyone prepared for a possible blaze...even though they’d probably find a drunk Jimbo passed out in the middle of an alarm. Securing their SCBA masks and strapping the air tanks onto their backs, they counted off the seconds. If there was an active fire in the tire store, it could get out of control fast. Tires burned hot and issued a buttload of smoke and chemicals.

Four minutes later they pulled up in front of the store. A column of smoke extended into the night sky.

“Everybody safe,” Hank called.

“Everybody safe,” they all repeated.

“Now let’s get the hoses on this fast. I’m calling another alarm in.”

That meant Hatfield station would give mutual aid. Already several volunteer firemen pulled up. And Engine One’s sirens could be heard in the background.

“FD2 and FD3 start initial attack. FD...uh, Coop, catch the hydrant for me.” Hank stood at the controls, flicking switches and then grabbing his own SCBA and helmet. It would be all hands on deck for this one.

Eva hooked her accountability tag on the cone and went to help Dutch with the hoses. The much-needed snorkel truck pulled up and Moon clambered out. The snorkel could get the water onto the top of the building and do the most work to knock down the blaze that was visible through the windows of the store.

“Okay, let’s be careful. This could get hot,” Hank said into his mic.

Dutch and Eva lugged the hose toward the front of the building. Several volunteer firefighters had suited up and were ascertaining the perimeter. The fire looked to be the strongest near the closed garage, which was very near where the office was located.

“We need to clear the building. Anyone talk to Jimbo?” Dutch asked.

Eva and Dutch started the initial attack using the Halligan tool to break the glass of the locked front door. Dutch reached through and twisted the lock, swinging the door open. Eva ducked her head inside and said, “We got flames, several columns of tires burning. Lotsa smoke. No visual past twelve feet. No visual on the office.”

Eva could hear her own breath. Like Darth Vader. The place was hot, the fire bright, but the smoke was inky dark, preventing them from seeing much. The window that showcased the attached mechanic’s bay was dark with smoke, but Eva could see the flames inside. Fear flirted with determination in her gut.

“Let’s get that water in to the left, FD3,” Hank barked.

“FD2, clear office. Dispatch cannot locate owner.”

Eva knew what that meant. Jimbo and his wife were known for their epic battles, and Jimbo often slept on the couch in his office with a fifth of Jim Beam to keep him company. He’d set off the fire alarm two previous times on such an occasion. Chances were good Jimbo was in the office.

Which meant Eva had no time to spare.

She had to get to that office.

“Make me a path, FD3,” Eva said into her radio. Faithful to his reputation as a man who could knock down a path, Dutch diverted his stream from the bay area and focused on a path to the office door, which lay beyond the wraparound service desk. The office had all the shades closed on the windows, and when Eva reached the office door, she could feel the tremendous heat surrounding her.

Just as she twisted the doorknob, a wall of fire flared to her right.

Dutch swiveled, fighting the blaze.

Overhead, Eva felt the water pouring down from the snorkel truck. She used the Halligan tool to break the glass as Dutch stepped away to battle the blaze and keep them safe. Reaching through the glass, she unlocked the door to the office and stepped in.

Hazy smoke had filled the messy office but it was obvious the point of origin had been elsewhere. Eva made a quick survey of the office and knew if Jimbo was in the building, he wasn’t in there.

“Office clear,” she said into her radio.

“FD2, give status on the garage,” Hank said.

Eva moved carefully into the smoke-filled space to her left. The water from the pumper trucks poured in, doing their job. “No visible flame inside office. Accessing garage to clear. Looks to be point of origin.”

Eva pushed through the door that led into the garage. Smoke boiled out and a blaze erupted with the feed of oxygen. Eva stepped back, shutting the door. She could see nothing and didn’t want to feed the fire. “Garage still hot.”

Hank’s voice chilled her. “FD2, dispatch confirms owner is likely in the building.”

“Shit,” Eva said, not even bothering to keep that expletive to herself. “I’m opening the garage.”

Dutch moved beside her. “FD3 assisting. Right side knocked down. Support taking over.”

Eva felt Dutch at her back. She turned and met his gaze. He nodded. He was ready.

Eva opened the door, and Dutch stepped into the threshold using the stream to knock down the immediate flaring as the oxygen once again hit the still-burning tires. It looked like a movie set with the immediate flare.

Working quickly, Eva made her way to the area that held an old metal desk. She got her tires rotated here so she knew where Jimbo and his guys sat when they smoked and shot the bull.

Sure enough, Jimbo lay beneath the desk in an area that thankfully hadn’t received much blaze. The smoke, however, was thick, and she needed to get Jimbo out. Eva reached him, noting the door that led out back was only about eight feet away. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not, but Jimbo looked like a dead man. Her heart thumped in her ears as she jostled him. He didn’t respond. He was completely unconscious.

“Visual made. Jimbo’s down. Request emergency medical.”

“Already on scene. We’re sending guys in.”

Dutch couldn’t leave the blaze. Eva would have to get Jimbo out of there herself. Eva moved her gloved hands down Jimbo’s torso. He most likely wore a T-shirt, and though he was a big man and outweighed her by a good one hundred pounds, if he wore a belt she could drag him with the Bowring tool. Her hand met no resistance. He either wore athletic shorts or even boxers. Nothing to attach the Bowring to for leverage.

“Goddamn it,” she muttered, reaching for the two-inch-wide webbing strapped to her coat. The length stretched twenty feet and was handy for drag rescues. Eva unrolled the webbing, her breathing sounding more rapid in her ears. She used every fiber of her strength to slide the webbing beneath Jimbo, and then she rocked him the other way so she could wrap it under his arms. Tying a quick overhanded knot, she straddled the man and measured the remaining length to even with her face mask. She made a quick overhand knot then divided the segment between the two knots. Lying across Jimbo, she slid the loop around her face piece and helmet and swam one arm through the opening. Then she rocked back so the webbing was secure around her neck. Once the webbing was in the correct place, she crouched like a tiger, keeping her back straight. She lifted with her legs, shoving one hand beneath the knot sitting atop Jimbo’s chest, and then she started walking toward the door.

Jimbo felt like a ton of bricks as she shuffled slowly, knowing that if she tripped or fell, his life was in the balance. Hell, he might already be dead, but she would damn sure get him out the way she’d been taught.

The door was only a few feet away when the roof caved.

Eva felt a beam hit her shoulder, and she fell on top of Jimbo.

“Dutch!” she screamed into her mic.

“Here,” he said. “Where are you? I can’t see you, Eva.” Dutch yelled into the mic, abandoning protocol.

Another shifting occurred and something else fell, some large piece of equipment and it knocked Eva’s helmet and mask off.

Acrid smoke enveloped her.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

Her eyes stung and her body ignored the dictates of her mind as she gulped for air, drawing in smoke. It burned like lava.

Coughing, she tried to push the debris off them. Water poured in, splashing into her eyes but clearing out some of the smoke. Still she couldn’t breathe. She gulped for air and all she got was smoke.

She felt her body weakening, her vision narrowing. Jimbo lay to her right. She was certain her legs lay on him. She had to find her mask. She needed the oxygen. They could both die if she didn’t. Desperately she clawed to find her SCBA mask but she couldn’t find it. “Duuu...”

Trying to call Dutch felt futile. Her words wouldn’t come and all she could do was gasp for precious air.

But it wasn’t there.

She felt herself spiraling into nothingness.

Opening and shutting her mouth, she tried to scream but it was too late. She’d taken in too much smoke. Her lungs burned, her vision blurred. Gulping in more smoke, she succumbed.

And then there was nothing but hot darkness.

* * *

J
AKE
WAS
EATING
dinner at the Golden Wheel Diner when he heard the sirens. He usually carried his radio with him, even when he wasn’t on duty, but tonight he’d left it in his truck. He needed to do some thinking, and the constant chatter on the emergency network was distracting. So he’d left it.

At first he crooked an ear toward the door, assuming it was something small. Maybe a wreck or perhaps someone had set an alarm off. So he stuck to pushing around the dry mashed potatoes on his blue-plate special, but then he heard the other truck...and then another.

Tossing a ten-dollar bill onto the table, he yelled to Art, “Gotta run, man. This should cover it.”

Art waved a tired hand his way. “No worries. Go see what the fuss is.”

Jake pushed out the glass door and hurried to his truck. Once there, he flipped on his radio. Jimbo had set off the alarm again all right, but this time he’d done a doozie of a job. Three-alarm blaze.