Brave Love

by Allyson Simonian

  Work was the only thing he could think of to keep his mind off Paige. Every free minute he had outside the station, he spent on the rehab of his house. He worked hard to exhaust himself on his days off too—training with weights and running before starting in on the house repairs. But as hard as he tried, nothing kept his mind off Paige. Not even close.

  He finished the bottle, tossed it into the recycling bin, then grabbed his car keys. He needed to make a trip to the hardware store.

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the lot and saw a familiar figure walking down the street.

  Getting out of the truck, he shouted, “Bryan!”

  The boy turned and waved.

  Ethan walked over and joined him on the sidewalk. “How’s everything going?”

  Bryan shrugged. “It’s okay. My grades are all right, and other than the paper I’m working on right now for English, it’s not too hard.” He shifted his backpack to his other shoulder, then asked, “Hey, how’s it going with that house we were working on? After those three days I worked with you, I was done with my community service I needed for school, so I didn’t go back.”

  “It’s all finished,” Ethan said. “I heard the family moved in last week.” He clapped the boy on the shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Thank you for all you did.”

  Bryan shrugged. “I didn’t do much.”

  “That’s not true. You helped a lot. I couldn’t have finished the drywall nearly as quickly on my own.” They stood in silence for a moment before Ethan said, “Listen, I have another project I’m working on. It’s my own house, and I could use an assistant. Think you might be interested in the job?” He hadn’t actually planned on hiring anyone, but he suspected Bryan might enjoy the work.

  Bryan shot him a hopeful glance. “You really want my help?”

  Ethan nodded. “I’d really appreciate it.” Pulling out one of his cards, he scribbled his address on the back. “How about Monday the 20th? Schools are closed for a teacher’s workday then, right?” When the boy nodded, Ethan added, “I’ll be working all day. Come by if you can.”

  Bryan took the card, then gave Ethan a grin as he stuck it in his pocket. “Okay.”

  • • •

  That Sunday night, the sound of the final buzzer jolted Ethan from his thoughts. He’d been sitting on his living room sofa, watching a basketball game for hours, but he couldn’t remember any of the plays. As usual, his mind was on Paige.

  It was ironic to still be on the coveted weekend rotation when he’d rather be working. He hit the Off button on the remote and stood. Eight p.m. and he hadn’t had dinner yet. He walked into the kitchen.

  Opening the refrigerator, he rooted around and came up with a container of leftover Chinese takeout. In the haze of the last weeks, he couldn’t remember how old it was, but it had to be from a few days ago. As he opened the container, a rank smell wafted up. After pitching it into the garbage can, he closed the refrigerator with a sigh.

  It was clear he’d need to go out if he wanted to eat. But instead of takeout, he decided on a burger at Tony’s. James was at the fire station this week, but some of their other friends might be around.

  Forty-five minutes later, a bartender set a burger and fries down in front of him. As he reached for his napkin, Brenda plunked herself onto the next bar stool. Ethan blinked in surprise, wondering if he should be embarrassed that he hadn’t called her back after the last time they’d hooked up.

  “Hey,” she drawled.

  They spoke for a minute before she asked, “Where’s your girlfriend? You two still together?”

  Ethan hadn’t realized she knew about Paige. Gazing at the glass shelves lining the back of the bar, he said, “Actually, no.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Something like that.”

  The hint of a smile lit up her face. “In that case, want to go to my place?”

  Uncomfortable now, he shook his head. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be good company.”

  She leaned against him, whispering, “You’re always good company, Ethan.”

  He blinked hard as embarrassment washed over him. While Brenda had never asked for anything other than sex, it shamed him that their relationship had been so shallow.

  Things with Paige had changed him. He’d seen what a relationship could be like, and even though he was hurting like hell, he supposed he should be grateful for that much.

  Brenda trailed a finger down his arm. “Let me know if you change your mind. Okay?” Getting off the stool, she walked back toward her friends.

  Ethan turned back to the bar. He’d thought he’d feel better being around people, but that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t seeing Brenda either; he’d simply be better off at home. Setting some money down, he grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door.

  Later that night, he lay staring at his ceiling, having come to the realization that one-night stands weren’t for him. Something else hit him as he’d lain there thinking—he’d been in love with Paige. Still was, for that matter, which was ironic given his past history, not to mention the fact that she wanted nothing to do with him.

  With a sigh, he turned onto his side and shut his eyes. These restless nights were starting to make him a zombie at work, and he needed to get some rest.

  Chapter 33

  When he woke the next morning, Ethan had a text from James. It was three hours old, but he’d been so exhausted, he hadn’t even heard it come in.

  James: Multi-alarm fire on Trenton. On our way.

  Was it the arsonist? Turning on the news, Ethan found a breaking report and stared at the blaze on the screen. Christ, it looks horrific. Of all places, the fire had been set inside a chemical warehouse.

  After a quick shower, he put on his uniform with the intention of heading over there before his shift. He drove quickly, chafing at the speed limit, but once he got on the interstate, it took far longer than he expected to drive just a few miles. As he inched closer to the exit, his uneasiness grew. Even from the interstate, flames could be seen.

  He called the station and his lieutenant agreed to let him cover the scene, saying he could relieve Max, who was already there.

  Ladder trucks from neighboring cities were parked alongside the Bennington trucks when Ethan flashed his credentials and drove past the barricades ten minutes later. He walked to where the fire squad was basing their operations.

  Ethan approached Frank, one of the firefighters. The man had obviously just come out of the fire. His heavy fireman’s jacket was covered in soot, and when he removed his helmet, his face dripped with sweat.

  “Is James still inside?”

  Frank bent over, coughing as he answered. “Yeah. Should be out soon, though.”

  Another firefighter came out of the fire, looking no better than Frank. It gave Ethan an idea of exactly how intense the heat was.

  Five minutes later, the fire chief stepped over. “Were you having trouble with your radio in there?” he asked Frank.

  “No. Why?”

  “I can’t reach James.”

  Ethan’s pulse spiked. The chief tried James again, but there was still no response.

  “Where did you last see him?” the chief asked Frank tersely, and Ethan’s heart fell at the hint of desperation in the older man’s tone.

  “Near the center of the building,” Frank said.

  The chief raised his radio and asked another firefighter to search for James. Ethan’s chest constricted as they waited for a reply. Let him be all right, he prayed. Please, please—let him be all right.

  A distressed voice finally burst out, “He’s here. I found him.”

  Seconds later, as smiles of relief were rippling through the group, another transmission came through. “Ah, God! He’s gone.”

  The chief gasped, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He leaned over, gripping the bumper of the fire truck.

  Ethan stood there, completely numb and barely able to breathe. This couldn’t be happeni
ng. He’d just seen James last weekend when he’d stopped by to see how Ethan was doing with the floor refinishing.

  James had shown up at the front door in the early afternoon, a six-pack of Ethan’s favorite brew dangling from each hand, and had kicked at the door, yelling loudly for Ethan to come let him in. They’d relaxed in the living room and enjoyed a couple of beers together, laughing as James recounted the time they’d gotten grounded after being caught “borrowing” James’s dad’s car and going joyriding when they were fifteen. His hilarious play-by-play of the events of that night made Ethan laugh so hard his gut hurt, much like it hurt now, but for a vastly different reason.

  It had to be a mistake. It just had to be. Any second now, James’s voice would come over the radio. Or else he’d come walking out of the blaze.

  But as they all stood there, unmoving, neither of those things happened.

  • • •

  An hour later, Ethan sat inside the fire chief’s sedan. His own captain had arrived on the scene fifteen minutes before and tried to send him home, but Ethan had refused. He needed to be there when they broke the news to James’s parents. He known them for over twenty years—had eaten dinner at their house, spent the night there many times, had even gone on vacation with them. Ethan had practically been a part of their family. He owed them that much.

  Numbly, he followed the chief up the walkway after they arrived at the Wilsons’ home. Grief pounded his chest as he looked up at the old oak tree in the yard. He and James had climbed that tree countless times. And his first broken bone—his arm—has come from falling out of it.

  Mrs. Wilson opened the door. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the fire chief on her front porch, and she covered her mouth with one hand and fell back a step, shaking her head frantically from side to side before the man had even said a word. Her scream after the chief explained everything sent Ethan reeling. He barely registered the words the chief spoke after that.

  If only he’d been able to find the arsonist, this wouldn’t have happened. James wouldn’t have been in that blaze. Guilt weighed heavily on him, joining the grief that pressed on his shoulders like a boulder.

  Mrs. Wilson was sobbing now, huddled against Mr. Wilson, who’d come into the room, his face drained white at the news. Ethan swallowed hard against a bone-dry throat, because this miserable task wasn’t even close to being over.

  They still needed to notify Denise.

  • • •

  Hours later, Ethan stood outside the police station alongside several other officers. The numbness that had taken hold of him hadn’t eased.

  He scanned the station’s parking lot in the waning afternoon light, noting all the news vans, both from the local stations and from as far away as Seattle. Beyond a cluster of reporters, a large crowd was gathered. The captain stepped up to the podium and began a news conference.

  Before he’d even spoken a few sentences, a reporter in a gray suit called out, “We’ve heard that a firefighter died in the blaze. Is that true?”

  The captain looked up, took a breath, and stepped aside to let the fire chief take the microphone.

  “Unfortunately, that’s true,” the chief said.

  “Can you give us his name?”

  The chief gripped the podium. “James Wilson. James was a young officer, only thirty-one. He had an excellent record during his ten years with the department.”

  “Was he married?” the reporter asked.

  “He had a fiancée.”

  Ethan closed his eyes. Notifying Denise had been even more heart-wrenching than the situation with James’s parents. They’d been well aware of the dangers of James’s job since he’d joined the department ten years before, but Denise had only dealt with the worry for two years. She was completely unprepared for the news, her wails of grief causing Ethan’s own tears to finally fall. He’d sat down on the couch with her, burying their faces on each other’s shoulders as they’d cried together.

  Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd before another reporter called out, “What are you doing to find the arsonist?”

  The captain stepped back in front of the microphone. “Details of the investigation will remain confidential, but we’re asking for the public’s help in identifying the suspect. At the end of this briefing, I’ll provide a tip line where all calls will be treated confidentially.”

  He continued his briefing, and a crossfire of questions erupted once he’d finished.

  “That’s all I have to say at this time,” the captain said shortly, then left the podium.

  Ethan sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed the other cops back into the building.

  Chapter 34

  Four days later, Paige stood alone in the vestibule of the Presbyterian church, surrounded by a crush of people but feeling intensely awkward at being here, in Ethan’s world.

  When she’d heard what had happened to James, disbelief had frozen her. She’d been at work when she’d learned about it, having caught the tail end of the police chief’s briefing on the TV in their office reception area. Stunned, she’d come to a stop and stared as the briefing concluded, having a hard time reconciling that Ethan had just lost his best friend. How could someone as full of life as James be gone?

  She’d only met him twice, but the exuberant man had definitely made an impression on her. His irrepressible personality and good-natured teasing had pulled her out of her shell that night at Tony’s. She’d found herself giggling more than once at his antics, especially as he’d poked at Ethan mercilessly. And the way he’d looked at Denise . . .

  The loving glances James had sent Denise’s way throughout the evening had warmed Paige’s heart. She’d watched as he’d leaned over and touched Denise’s hand or brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. The two of them were so obviously in love. It gave Paige hope that perhaps this attraction between her and Ethan might progress, that they might even end up engaged someday like James and Denise.

  But now Denise was alone, just like her. No, not just like her; Ethan was still alive and well, he just wasn’t hers anymore. And that thought depressed her even more, especially knowing it was her own fault.

  Paige filed inside with the other mourners and took a seat at the back of the church, sandwiched between an elderly woman wearing pearls and an expensive suit that smelled slightly of mothballs, and a police officer in uniform who was attending the service with his wife. Glancing over to see the officer clutch his wife’s hand, Paige fought the nagging pinches of regret that plagued her.

  Hundreds had attended the memorial; nearly half of the church was filled with firemen, police officers, and other first responders, all here in their dress uniforms to pay their respects to a fallen comrade. The uniforms varied, not only from Bennington but also from neighboring cities, a testament to the breadth of loss the community was feeling. Looking around at their stricken faces, Paige knew what they must be thinking: There but for the grace of God go I . . .

  All through the service, she had an ache in her chest as she imagined what Denise and Ethan were going through, how they both must be reeling from their loss. When the final hymn was sung and the service concluded, she stood up, waiting to file out of the pew, and found her gaze drawn to the front of the church where they stood. Denise was pale, her nose red from crying, but stood stiffly with her shoulders pushed back, obviously trying to be brave as she stood next to Ethan as he spoke quietly to Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.

  A mere glance at Ethan knocked the wind out of Paige as longing for him tugged. Part of her wanted to approach their small group and offer words of comfort, but she wasn’t able to do it. Being so close to Ethan would be her undoing; it would threaten her resolve to stay out of his life.

  Forcing her gaze away, she scanned the church for the closest exit. She shouldn’t have come here. She needed to leave now, before Ethan saw her.

  Chapter 35

  As he sat at a traffic light, Ethan rubbed a hand over the back of his stiff neck. For the eighth night
in a row since the warehouse fire, the department had set up stakeouts at what they’d deemed the most likely arson targets.

  Once again, though, they’d come up empty-handed. In all likelihood, the arsonist had seen the press coverage. He knew he was responsible for taking a life and was lying low.

  When Ethan pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, he did a double-take. Bryan was sitting on the front steps. Ethan clapped a hand to his forehead, embarrassed that he had completely forgotten he’d asked for help with the house. He grabbed his jacket off the passenger seat, got out of his truck, and walked to the teen.

  Moments later, he’d explained the arson investigation and the stakeouts, and how the surveillance was mostly being conducted on volunteer hours. “That’s where I’ve been all night. I’m really sorry to do this, but I’m not going to be able to work on the house today. I’m due back on my regular shift in just a few hours, and need to get some sleep.”

  The boy shrugged as he stood up to leave. “It’s no problem.”

  But Ethan felt bad. “Listen, have you had breakfast yet? I haven’t eaten since last night, and I’m starving.”

  Bryan’s lips tipped up in a lopsided grin. “I can always eat.”

  Once they’d gotten to the restaurant and ordered, Bryan began asking questions about the warehouse fire. At only a week later, James’s death was still a raw and painful subject. It was hard to believe the way his friend’s life had ended—suddenly and all too soon.

  Their waitress walked up to their table with two large plates full of steaming food. As she went back to get more coffee for Ethan, he changed the subject, asking Bryan about school.

  “It’s good,” the boy said after he tore a bite out of his toast. “And Paige has been helping me with the video I’m making.”

  Ethan set his coffee cup down and stared. “She’s helping you?”