by Barb Han
Anger heated the blood in his veins past the boiling point. She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. No one did. Liv wasn’t the type to take getting a divorce lightly. She would see it as a failure, and it would bother her for the rest of her life. Her heart was built that way. Even though she was being tight-lipped about the cause, Corbin was certain she had her reasons. Had she been drowning in sorrow after losing her mother? She’d refused to talk to him about it, telling him he needed to spend more time with his fiancée. Those words had stung at the time and weren’t much better when he thought about them now. She’d pushed him away and he couldn’t figure out why.
Again, she wasn’t the type to take marriage for granted. So, the question remained, what had Kellan done?
Could Corbin go to his cousin and confront him? That was almost laughable, he thought. Kellan was as likely to take his part of the blame as cold weather was to come in June. Just thinking about the texts his cousin had sent caused the muscle in Corbin’s jaw to tick.
He stared down at Liv, fisting his hands to keep them from reaching out to touch her. Even though they’d lost touch in the past eighteen months, he realized how much he was going to miss her. Moving away to Dallas felt so final.
The knot in Corbin’s stomach tightened as he thought about losing her forever despite realizing it was most likely for the best for both of them.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The optimal scenario had her sticking around and the two of them hanging around each other like old times. Best friends, two people who could share everything without fear of judgment. Thinking about what might have been literally threatened to rip his heart out of his chest. Too late now.
Shame, he thought.
4
A noise startled Liv awake. She bolted upright and desperately tried to get her bearings.
“You’re okay,” Corbin’s deep baritone soothed. His voice had a habit of washing over her and through her in the most inconvenient way.
She blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t a mirage as he walked toward her. And then he was next to her, kneeling beside the sofa.
“I must have fallen asleep,” she said, fixing the cover that had fallen off as she sat up.
“When I got out of the shower, I found you head-down at the kitchen table,” he admitted, his tone so much less angry at her than before. What caused the change?
“Oh.” She bit back a yawn. “Strange. But I guess I haven’t really slept in a few weeks. Longer than that if I’m honest.”
“Is that because of the divorce?” he asked.
“That, plus knowing I was coming back here where, for at least two seconds, I thought I might stay.” She took in a deep breath and nodded. “But enough is enough. I give. Time to pack up and move on.”
“You’ve always been braver than you realized and more bullheaded than an ox.” Was he complimenting her?
She must be losing it or still asleep because when she looked into his eyes, she saw compassion and another emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint that had been missing all day.
“What time is it?” she asked. “And why are you still awake?”
“Nine o’clock,” he stated after checking his cell phone. “I have no plans to sleep tonight.”
“You must be starving.” Her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten dinner and the couple cups of coffee she polished off were now making her nauseous.
“I have a power bar in my overnight bag. It’s usually enough to get me through,” he said, and she realized why. He went out sometimes for days on end tracking dangerous poachers. His body was trained to get very little sleep and need only enough food to sustain his energy.
“I can do better than that,” she said, throwing the cover off.
Corbin offered a hand up, and a jolt of electricity vibrated through her hand and up her arm at contact. The two stood in her living room, not two feet apart. Their gazes locked and something pinged in the space between them, charging the air with electrical impulses. Suddenly, her throat dried up and she couldn’t find words.
Liv’s thoughts scrambled as a fog rolled in—the fog that was Corbin Firebrand. This close, his spicy male scent consumed her senses and her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. Really touch him.
And just to make certain she didn’t make another mistake with Corbin, she shoved her hands inside the pockets of her hoodie. She swallowed, trying to ease some of the dryness in her throat and broke eye contact.
“I made those sour cream chicken enchiladas you like so much,” she croaked out. “The ones my grandmother used to make.”
He took in a deep breath and an emotion stirred behind his eyes that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. He must have noticed she’d skipped over the fact her mother used to make the dish from her granny’s recipe.
“Sounds good.” Those two words spoken through clenched teeth told her that he was struggling too.
Since she didn’t want to make this any more difficult for him and she could see that she was, she said, “I loved him in my own way.”
Her words looked like the equivalent of a bucket of ice water being thrown in Corbin’s face, just as she knew they would, shocking him back to reality.
“Yeah? Good.” Two words sentences weren’t a good sign despite the fact he’d used the word twice.
At least his cold shoulder returned, giving her the bravado to walk into the kitchen and away from him. It was a low blow to say those words to him about Kellan, but they were true. She had loved him in a way. Turned out not to be the kind of caring that could go the distance but he’d been a saving grace when her heart had been shattered…first by Corbin and then her mother.
Liv shook off the memory. That was a long time ago and a lot had changed. Corbin no longer had the power to rip her heart out of her chest. No one had that kind of influence over her. He was simply stepping in as a good person willing to help a fellow friend in need. Her mother was gone and there was no bringing her back, so it was time to accept the reality, sell the house, and move on.
She pulled the enchiladas out of the fridge and split the leftovers onto two plates. A minute later, a ding from the microwave, and dinner was ready. She set the plates down and moved to the entryway.
Corbin sat on the edge of the sofa, head in his hands. She would ask if everything was okay, but she realized he was between a rock and hard place.
“Dinner’s on the table,” she said softly, wishing she’d found another way to put up a wall between them rather than bringing up his cousin.
He looked up and seemed to think long and hard about his next words.
“I don’t mind giving up the weekend to help you out. You’ll be gone soon, out of this town and my life forever. After what happened, it seems like you need a real friend,” he started and her heart dropped at hearing the pain in his voice. “But if you bring up your relationship with my cousin again…I’m out. Understand?”
When he caught her gaze, she saw a mix of anger and what looked a whole lot like regret. Her heart felt like it had been ripped out of her chest. Since trying to go back in the past to change something was as productive as trying to milk a bluebonnet, she forced the thought aside.
“Okay.” She received his message loud and clear. No more talk about Kellan. The awkward silence that followed had her wanting to blurt out almost anything to fill the air. After a few moments and with no wisdom to make this better, she finally said, “Food’s getting cold.”
“Go ahead and start without me. I’ll be right in.” Again, the hurt in his voice was a knife stab to the center of her chest.
There was no reason for him to let her know that he was in pain now. He’d asked Dani to marry him, and Dani had made her expectations clear to Liv. Their friendship might be okay before the wedding, but Liv was to steer clear of Corbin once he was married. Under no terms was Liv to contact Corbin again. Liv could handle Dani, but violate her demand and she would take it out on Corbin. If Dani was the woman he loved, the one he cho
se to be with, Liv wouldn’t stand in the way of their relationship. She cared too much for Corbin to do that. Plus, there was the simple fact she realized she didn’t want to see him committed to someone else.
Her mind immediately snapped to that lonely place where she’d been distraught beyond measure. Alone. Lonely. She’d done the next best thing to being with Corbin. She’d become a Firebrand. Dani couldn’t force Liv away from Corbin once they were technically related. But accepting Kellan’s proposal hadn’t been out of spite or to circumvent Dani in any way. Liv had been broken after finding out Corbin had proposed to Dani and then her mother had been in the crash on the highway.
There wasn’t much she could have done about her mother, but she should have seen Corbin’s engagement coming. Yet it had blindsided her in the worst possible way. She’d felt betrayed and all kinds of other feelings that didn’t belong in the context of best friends. A line had been crossed by her that they’d sworn never to step over. Corbin had held up his end of the bargain. She’d been the one to fail miserably.
Looking back, being around Kellan had made her feel like she’d come home in an odd way. Hindsight caused her to realize how messed up her thinking had become. Grief had her making bad choices. And now it was too late to undo any of it.
Corbin would always be out of reach with not so much as a friendship between them now. She’d bet and lost big time. And it was probably time to accept it no matter how much her heart protested. The two of them weren’t meant to be. Not even friends.
As reality set in, a reality she’d been denying far too long now, she slumped in her seat at the table, picked up her fork, and pushed food around on her plate.
A few minutes later, Corbin joined her. He sat down without making eye contact, picked up his own fork, and stabbed it into his enchilada.
What had she expected? A joyful reunion? Him to tell her how much he’d missed her and that they needed to figure out a way to keep their friendship alive.
Liv almost laughed out loud.
She didn’t bother to look at him while they ate. Exhaustion made picking up her fork feel like a herculean effort. The catnap hadn’t even made a dent in how tired she was. If she wanted to make a good impression in her interview, she needed to get plenty of rest between now and Monday.
The meal might smell good and she might be hungry but all she managed to do was take enough bites to stop her stomach from growling.
“I overstepped my bounds in asking for your help, Corbin. But I do appreciate the fact that you came, and all that you’re doing for me. I realize I’ve put you in a no-win situation,” she admitted, softening her tone.
When he didn’t respond, she stood up, walked over to the trash, and emptied her plate. After a quick rinse, she loaded the dishwasher. “Key is on the counter. Lock up when you leave.”
Without another word, she left the kitchen and headed upstairs. Her chin quivered and tears threatened, but she refused to cry. It wouldn’t do any good and she’d already shed enough tears over Corbin. This was exactly the closure she needed to move on, no matter how much her heart protested.
There were so many words that came to mind as Liv walked out of the kitchen. But Corbin couldn’t form a sentence. A mix of anger and regret jumbled his thoughts, and he realized it would be better if he kept his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted to do was add to the tension between him and Liv.
He would follow through on his promise to get her to her interview safely on Monday, and then he would go home. So, why did his heart feel like it was being ripped out of his chest as he emptied his plate and set it in the sink?
He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste out of his backpack, and then headed to the hall bath. After brushing his teeth, he located the key, locked up, and headed to his truck where he planned to sleep.
In the backseat, he kept a small pillow and blanket. There were other supplies too. Enough food to keep him from starving if he needed to be gone for a couple of days without warning. Enough water to ensure he didn’t dehydrate. And enough camping supplies to keep out the cold or much of the heat depending on the time of year. He wouldn’t need much more than a pillow tonight.
After leaning the seat back, Corbin rolled the windows down. In late June, the nights were still cool enough for him to be comfortable inside the vehicle. Tonight was no exception. The temperature was supposed to drop into the mid-sixties. They hadn’t yet reached the time of year when he would wake to eighty-plus degrees and go to sleep to more than a hundred. It was coming, though. Soon enough. The drought threatened to dry up what little grass was left, and the cattle would have to be moved north if that happened.
As troubling as those facts were, the unsettled feeling that had been hovering over Corbin since his grandfather had died earlier in the month had intensified over the course of the evening. Something was off here. Something was bugging him, niggling at the back of his mind. If only he could put his finger on what it was.
Looking out the front windshield at the expansive sky that seemed to go on forever, Corbin tried to shut off his thoughts. He’d noticed a long time ago that concentrating on a problem only served to make it worse. The best way to find an answer was to distract himself. Shutting off his racing thoughts, however, was a whole other story. Counting sheep never worked. Neither did putting on music or ambient noise. He’d tried breathing techniques.
At some point in the night, although he couldn’t pinpoint when, he finally closed his eyes.
Corbin rubbed his eyes and sat up. He squinted. His mouth was dry and his tongue had a sweet taste. His brain was foggy. How long had he been out? He’d gone days without sleep and not felt this out of it. What was different this time?
Moving his arms took more effort than if he’d dragged them through a lake filled with molasses. Something was off, mentally and physically. He tried to shake off the fog gripping him like octopus tentacles pulling him down to the ocean floor.
He needed to get his bearings. The sun was rising to his left against the eastern horizon.
In this out-of-body state, it took a couple of seconds for him to realize the farmhouse was on fire. Smoke billowed from the back of the house. He muttered a curse and reached for his cell as he jammed his shoulder into the door, pulling on the latch with his free hand.
The situation snapped his mind into focus. The average older home took roughly fifteen minutes to burn, newer ones took a third of the time due to being made of mostly synthetic materials. There was no way he could wait for a volunteer firefighter to arrive. That could take half an hour or longer in these parts and there would be nothing left of the house, let alone Liv.
It had to be a good sign he was catching this early since he saw only smoke and no flames, he thought as he bolted around the back of the house where her bedroom was located.
Corbin managed to hit 911 on his cell as he shouted up at Liv’s window. There was no response. He circled the building looking for the best entry point. Make no mistake about it, he was going inside.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” Georgia Vincent’s voice came on the line. She’d been widowed for half a decade, days after her fiftieth birthday.
“This is Corbin Firebrand. I’m at Liv Holden’s residence and her home is on fire. There’s no time to explain. Send help. I’m going in.” He dropped the phone onto a patch of dried grass to keep it from overheating inside the house.
There was more smoke in back, so he determined the front would be the best angle. He fumbled for the key in his pocket, and then tested the door handle for heat. It was fine, so he unlocked the door. The lack of heat registered as odd.
“Liv,” he shouted. Still no response but the smoke was so thick he couldn’t see across the room as he entered. Don’t even get him started on how the place could have been set on fire without him realizing while he was parked next to the building. After two steps inside, he choked and gagged. His eyes burned and it felt like someone had set his nose on fire. Burnt wood stuck in the back of
his throat.
Corbin pulled his t-shirt up over his nose and barreled into the house, expecting to see flames and be hit with a wave of heat unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He cut an immediate right and raced up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Given the amount of smoke, he figured he didn’t have a whole lot of time before the place went up in flames. He stopped halfway up the stairs, realizing how thick the smoke had become. He coughed, chugging air. His throat burned. His chest felt like it was on fire. And still no flames or heat.
“Liv,” he shouted before gagging as he crested the stairs. Shouldn’t alarms be going off at her house at this point? Corbin made a mental note of the issue and moved on. There was no time to analyze her fire readiness. Besides, who thought there would ever be a blaze inside her home to begin with?
She must’ve have heard him this time because the silhouette of her feminine frame filled the doorway. Coughing, she had something wrapped around her nose and mouth as she made a run toward him. He caught her with one arm, and they bolted down the stairs and out the front door, fingers linked.
“There’s a hose in front and back,” she managed to say through coughs.
“I’ll take the back.” He figured he might get a clue as to how a fire could have started in the first place.
Again, something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. And then it dawned on him. There were still no flames. Was there even a fire to put out?
5
Granted, there was enough smoke to fill four corn silos, and then some. What was the source? Corbin didn’t see flames shooting out the windows, which they would be by now. And shouldn’t it be burning hot?
