Firestorm: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Ellie Masters

  Brody and Cage try engaging me in conversation, switching from topic to topic trying to get me to bite. When I sip sullenly at my beer, they give up. Brody asks Cage about his latest assignment, and I kind of zone out as Cage talks about polar bears, ice caps, and other things I don’t care about.

  Finally, my mother returns. Alone. She waves me over and places her tiny hand on my bicep. “She’s been through a lot. This may not be the best time to ask a ton of questions. Sometimes, a woman simply needs to know her man is there and cares for her. I left her in the shower. Give her a minute before you go in.” She grabs her purse and keys. “I’ll be back in the morning. Goodnight, boys.”

  Brody and Cage jump to their feet and give her a kiss goodnight. They argue about what game to play. I stand in the middle of the hallway with my hands shoved in my pockets until I can’t stand it anymore.

  My feet are on the move. I need my girl.

  22

  Asher

  Not surprising, Evelyn is still in the shower. I knock softly on the door.

  “Evelyn? Can I come in?” I’ve seen the woman naked, fucked her on nearly every surface in my bedroom, and against the wall, yet I worry about invading her privacy? It doesn’t make sense, but somehow, seeing her this vulnerable feels like crossing a line.

  “Y-yes.” Her voice sounds incredibly small, nothing like the self-assured woman I know.

  Slowly, I open the door. Steam billows out into the hallway and sweat beads up on my brow. The heat is stifling and fog completely covers the mirrors. It’s a large bathroom with a shower enclosure built for two. Multiple shower heads make it one of my guilty pleasures. There’s a rain shower overhead. Two shower heads built into the opposite sides of the enclosure, and two rows of water jets which provide the most amazing massages. Evelyn has all of them turned on, and from the thickness of the steam, the heat is cranked.

  “How’re you holding up?” Like the mirrors, the glass door is fogged over. Her blurry outline is all I can make out. She’s sitting, knees pulled up and tucked tight to her body.

  “Surviving.”

  Without thinking about what I’m doing, I toe off my shoes and strip out of my clothes.

  She needs me, but she won’t ask me to join her.

  Somehow, I know this, just as I know she needs me by her side.

  This isn’t about sex. It’s about connecting, comforting, and providing solace in a world that doesn’t make sense. When I think about everything she’s lost, my heart gives a crushing squeeze that stops me in my tracks.

  I’d give anything to ease her pain.

  I open the shower door, step inside, and sit beside her. Mirroring her pose, I draw my knees to my chest, wrap my arms around my legs, and prop my chin on my kneecaps.

  “It’s foggy.”

  She gives a soft laugh. “Yeah, I like the steam and after the way my bath turned out…”

  After she nearly died…

  Grant’s arson investigation may turn into an attempted murder instead.

  I reach for her hand and ignore the stirring of my dick. Evelyn naked is too much for it to resist which means I’m going to have to be on my best behavior. This is about being present to support Evelyn, not fuck her brains out.

  That serves my needs, not hers. Although, I’d like to think she kind of enjoys the fucking too.

  “I like the steam,” I say.

  “You do?”

  “Brody and Cage tease me when I take long showers. They think I’m jerking off, which is mostly true…” I give a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “But sometimes I just need to sit. It helps clear my head.”

  She peeks up at me. “I do the same thing, or I did before I started backpacking. The clearing my head part, not the…the other thing.” Her smile brightens my entire world and her little joke tells me she’s going to be fine.

  This woman has been through hell and back. I know about the plane crash, but only because Grant mentioned it and I hope she’ll open up and tell me.

  I want to be the person she shares the ugly bits, the painful parts, and the happy times of her life with.

  “Tell me about backpacking. Is it something you’ve always done?” Getting her to open up will be tricky as I tread the line between interest and overly inquisitive. My goal isn’t to pry.

  “Actually, I never did anything outdoorsy growing up, except summer horse camps, but we didn’t exactly rough it. We stayed indoors and had housekeepers and chefs.”

  “Horse camps? Housekeepers?”

  “Didn’t I tell you I’m a spoiled rotten brat?”

  “I don’t know about spoiled,” I tease. “You seem pretty self-reliant.”

  “You wouldn’t have said that a year ago. I was pretty self-absorbed.”

  “How’s that?”

  “All I cared about was superficial crap that doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s pretty harsh. Why do you say that?”

  “Because I was a rich spoiled brat and didn’t have a clue what that meant until…”

  “Until what?”

  “Until I realized none of that mattered.” She tucks her chin behind her knees. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I want to tell you everything, but some of it is pretty ugly and some is incredibly sad.”

  I lean against her shoulder. What I want is to wrap my arm around her and pull her tight against my body, but I can’t do that. I’m already long, hard, and aching for her.

  This is not about sex.

  It’s a time to listen and not give in to the base urges which are more than willing to take this shower talk to its most logical next step.

  “I’d love to know more. You’re a kick ass woman, who’s not afraid of the outdoors and is incredibly good at surviving both forest fires and house fires.”

  “I’m cursed.”

  “Why?” It’s killing me, dancing around what I know, but coming at her directly about the plane crash feels all kinds of wrong.

  “Not that it’s exactly the best thing to do, considering who you are to me, but can I tell you a little about Justin?”

  Who I am to her?

  Shit, all I want is to know what she thinks I am to her. Does she consider me her lover? Her boyfriend? Something more? Her forever? Because I’ll take all of it.

  My mother says I’ll know, and damn if she isn’t right. I’m head over heels in love with Evelyn. I’m already imaging sharing my life with her and I don’t give one fuck what that says about me.

  “Sure.” My response is shorter than I’d like, but sincere. I want to know everything about her, even the painful bits.

  “We were engaged.”

  “You mentioned that.”

  “But I didn’t tell you what happened. Or how I wound up in the middle of that forest fire.”

  “I want to know everything about you. All the good stuff, the bad stuff, and the stuff in between. I’m completely and utterly fascinated by you.” I love you.

  That’s not something I’m ready to throw out there, but it’s the truth.

  “Even if it’s tragic?”

  “Especially if it’s tragic.”

  “My family is wealthy, more like wealthy elite.” Her body stiffens as if searching for my reaction.

  “Go on.” Her hesitation worries me, but I’m not afraid of her wealth. It doesn’t change anything for me.

  “Our destination wedding was supposed to be the social event of the season. We leased a private island in the Caribbean and arranged to fly all the guests out for the day. Family and close friends were to stay on the island. As the island had no airstrip, we flew everyone in on seaplanes. Justin, wanted to make our entrance spectacular.” Her voice kind of chokes up, but she presses on. “We flew everyone in over the course of the day and ours was to be the last trip. My entire family was on the plane, my parents, my brother, and Justin.”

  “What about his parents, Prescott and Gracie?”

  “There were only six seats on the plane. They flew in ahead of us.” />
  “Okay?”

  Her lower lip trembles and she places her forehead on her knees. Her next words come out a muffled mess.

  “Our destination wedding became a life-altering disaster when the plane went down. They said it was mechanical failure, something about the engine overheating. We stalled out on landing. The plane flipped end over end in the lagoon.” Her grip on her knees tightens. “I was the only one who survived.”

  “Evelyn…” I don’t know what to say and decide to pull her into my lap. My eager dick deflates as the horror of that accident hits me. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

  “The only reason I survived is because I wasn’t buckled in. My dress…” She waves her hand in the air. “Anyway, I was thrown clear while the plane came apart. At least that’s what everyone says happened. I was knocked out and nearly drowned. The only reason I didn’t is because some of the guests ran into the water and saved me. There I was, my wedding day, getting fished out of a lagoon, while my entire family died. It was life altering.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Grant mentioned an accident, but listening to Evelyn relive the disaster puts a lump in my throat. I lost my father years ago and still feel the loss. Some days are better than others. It’s not something a person ever gets over.

  If I lost Brody and Cage, and our mother all in one fell swoop, I don’t know if I could stand living without them. I embrace Evelyn as she takes a deep breath.

  “Every day, something reminds me of what I lost. There’s no getting over that kind of grief. But I had to do something, my grief was slowly suffocating me. Each day it felt like I was the one slipping away. Instead of living, I was slowly dying inside.”

  I stroke her head, threading my fingers through her wet hair, and breathe in the humid air. Not knowing what to say, I let my hands speak for me with a gentle caress to her shoulder, fingers kneading the tight muscles of her neck, all light touches to let her know I care.

  She takes in a deep breath and it’s unclear if she’s crying or simply taking the time to pick her words.

  “That crash set me on a path of becoming someone I admired. To get there, however, I first had to face the kind of person I was.”

  “And what was that?”

  “A vapid, narcissistic, privileged bitch.” Her soft laugh sounds forced. “It just hit me one day. I was alone in the family home, wandering the halls, feeling sorry for myself. I looked down at my engagement ring and had an epiphany. Everything we had…it was just stuff, stupid, meaningless stuff, and I realized something else.”

  “Go on?” I rub her shoulders, which I hope encourages her to continue.

  “I was marrying Justin because it was expected, not because I loved him.” She looks up and touches my cheek. “I didn’t love him and that hurt more than I ever thought it could.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “It’s pathetic, but there’s more. I wandered into my closet and looked at all the ball gowns I’d only ever worn once, the shoes I only wore once a year, and I got sick of it. I got sick of all the stuff. The more time I spent in that house, the more I hated the materialistic over-indulgence that was my life. It was suffocating and I suddenly knew I needed to get away from it, get away before I did something I’d regret.”

  “And what was that?” What would she do that she’d regret? Was she suicidal?

  “I ran away.” Another soft laugh escapes her and she shakes her head a little. “I turned my back on all the daily reminders of everything I lost, and everyone I knew. The only thing I had left was stuff. My friends weren’t really my friends. None of them stuck around as I wallowed in grief. No one wanted me around because I reminded them of what happened the day of my wedding. I reminded them life was short and I don’t think they liked it.”

  “People can be cruel.”

  “It was eye-opening, but only because I was no different from them. I realized I couldn’t stand the person I was and decided to become something new. I needed a fresh start. Everything I had, I no longer wanted. I took the ring Justin gave me and gave it to Gracie. I told Prescott to manage the estate and to sell off all the stuff my family had accumulated over the years. All the trappings of wealth sickened me and I wanted no part in it. But also, I couldn’t stand all the little reminders which held the ghosts of the people I lost.”

  “So you started backpacking?”

  “I read a book about a woman who found herself while hiking the Sierras. Something about her story resonated within me and I thought if I could just get away from it all, then maybe I’d figure out who Evelyn Thornton was, because I honestly didn’t know. For me, a fresh start literally meant starting out with everything new. I was a high society city girl who turned to the wilderness for solace.”

  “You don’t strike me as a city girl.”

  “I’m a spoiled heiress who never lifted a finger to help herself, let alone anyone else. Now?” She takes in a deep breath and lets it out in one long sigh.

  “And now?” I encourage her to continue, fascinated by her words. Never in a million years would I have thought Evelyn Thornton was an heiress.

  “Now, I forage and hunt for my own food. I set my campsite, make my fires, and source my own clean drinking water. In the past two months, the only person I relied on was me.”

  “I’m here.” Rely on me.

  “Yes, and I’m really happy for that, but I want you to know a little more about me, so you can understand where I’m coming from and why there are things I need to do for myself.”

  I get it, even if it’s a truth difficult to swallow. In rescuing her from the fire, I inadvertently took something precious. I took away some small part of her independence and self-reliance.

  “You can be quite intimidating. Tell me, how did you go from socialite to a solo backpacker?”

  She glosses over my comment about being intimidating, becoming more animated as she tells me about her journey of self-discovery. I admit she intimidates me, but it changes nothing about how I feel about her. I’ve dated my fair share of self-absorbed, helpless women who don’t think to do anything for themselves.

  The strength of Evelyn’s character is what draws me to her, her confidence, her self-reliance, and the way she keeps her head on her shoulder in times of crisis. It’s because of those qualities that I hold such deep respect for her as a woman. And it’s probably the lack of those same qualities which kept me from feeling this way about any of the women I dated in the past.

  “I didn’t just start backpacking. I bought books, researched, and started small; overnights in campgrounds where I learned to pitch a tent. I talked to whoever would talk to me, picked their brains, and learned everything I could. I started hiking, short trails to start, then day hikes, then my first overnighter. The peace and quiet…” Her voice turns wistful. “The solitude? I don’t know how to explain it, but it felt good. And I was learning. I learned all kinds of things, but most importantly, I learned how to do things for myself. I learned how to depend on myself. I kept my brain engaged in surviving rather than grieving.”

  “That’s an incredible story. It takes a lot of inner strength to do what you did.” It’s not possible, but I find myself loving her even more.

  “I tackled so many things outside my comfort zone, because keeping busy, having a mission, and needing to rely solely on myself kept me from reliving the accident. It kept my grief at bay and silenced the terrible guilt I live with being the only one to walk away.”

  “I can’t imagine how horrifying the accident must have been, except I’m glad you’re here.” I squeeze her tight.

  “I wouldn’t have met you if I hadn’t left everything behind. My outlook on life is different now. Not that I believe in fate, but I think we’re destined to meet certain people in our lives.”

  “You getting philosophical with me?”

  “Maybe? I’m tired and scared. I’m having to rely on Prescott again and that’s…difficult. I don’t want to become that p
erson again, and I’m really afraid it’ll happen if I don’t watch out. Does that make any sense?”

  “It makes a lot of sense, but I have something to say.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t want to lose you, and I’m going to fight this with you. If I over-step, promise you’ll say something. I’m wired to protect and help others. It’s who I am. I’ll probably cross some lines with you, trying to help, just let me know when to back down, because I won’t know when I need to.”

  “That’s the most honest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  I give a soft laugh. “You know, I have this picture in my head of a ditzy socialite and I’m trying to figure out how that woman is the same one I carried out of a forest fire.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. As for that ditzy socialite, I figured if that woman could do it in the book, I could do it too. Anytime I thought something was too hard, too difficult, or impossible, I checked my assumptions and thought of that woman. There was a lot to learn, but I focused on learning one thing at a time. My single overnight hikes turned to weekend adventures and then I decided to head west. Eventually, I wound up here.” She leans against my chest and reaches up to wind her fingers in the hair at my nape. A shiver works its way down my spine and my dick gives a little twitch.

  She stills, then relaxes into my hold. “I’m supposed to be in the Sierras now, hiking the John Muir trail. It’s kind of my opus, two-hundred plus miles of back country backpacking, the ultimate solo-escape. This was supposed to be my resupply stop, but then the fire happened.”

  Such a simple statement, that fire changed everything. “That fire brought you into my life.”

  “It did.” She smiles at me. “I’m really glad we met.”

  “How did Prescott and Gracie handle you leaving like that?” I begin to understand their relationship better.

  Evelyn grew up with their son and the expectation they would marry. Prescott’s overbearing paternalism makes more sense.