He paused, trembling, lost in the memory. Something drew him out. The press of her hand on his.
He swallowed, blinking his way back up. “I woke up in the hospital a week later. And then again a few days after that.”
“And the boys?” she asked quietly.
The boys. “We got them out. They all recovered.” He shook his head. “We’d pulled them all out, and I went back in there.”
“For your friend.”
He nodded. “That’s the one thing—when I realized what I’d done to myself—that could console me. For a long time after.” He met her gaze. “He’d have done the same thing.” He shrugged, fighting his emotions. “He’d have done the same stupid thing.”
She nodded, wiping away a tear. She leaned into him, put her arms around him, drawing him closer. He rested in the cocoon of her arms and blanket and let her run her fingers through his hair. The knot in his chest loosened, and he closed his eyes.
They stayed like that for a long time.
“Who got you out?” she asked quietly.
Some time passed before he could answer. “My crew. All of them. They piled into one of the big rigs and drove in there—hoses, full masks. I wasn’t hard to find.” He didn’t say it was because of his screaming.
She squeezed his hand again. “They risked their lives for you.”
He struggled to speak. “They could have died. Because of me.”
“They knew that as much as you knew it when you went after Jay.”
He breathed that in. After a moment, he slowly sat up, raising his arm around her, tucking her into his side.
“Thanks, Riley,” he whispered.
She nodded. Soon, her eyes closed, her skin reflecting the flickering light from the fading fire.
“Mark,” she mumbled just when he thought she’d fallen asleep.
“Yeah?”
“I’m no good in relationships.”
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as her grip relaxed. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’m so glad you got out.”
He pressed his lips to the top of her head, breathing in her peace.
She didn’t stir.
When he woke, he was more reclined, and she was tucked into his side, between him and the back of the couch. His arm had fallen asleep all the way to his shoulder. The fire had burned out, and the room was dark as coal.
He looked at the desk where he’d set his wallet, phone, and keys, and grimaced. Carefully, he moved so he could see his watch.
The watch blazed, and he blinked.
3:40 a.m.
Inwardly, he groaned. His dad would be worried about him, and his truck outside would spur rumors.
As gently as he could, he eased himself off the couch, pulling his arm from under Riley’s head without disturbing her sleep. She sighed deeply, and he froze. When she’d resettled, he managed to free himself without falling.
His fingers tingled as circulation returned, and his eyes adjusted to the dark. Riley’s arm dangled over the edge of the couch, her cheek smashed against the cushion, her lips parted as she slept.
She took a sudden deep breath. “That’s my fortune cookie . . .”
“My mistake,” he whispered, pulling her blanket up higher.
She nodded and settled.
As he collected his things from the desk, his eye caught the shine of one of the glass doorknobs he’d broken off. He took it and returned to her on the couch. He folded her arm up and tucked the knob into her hand. “See you soon,” he whispered. He quietly got his coat out of the closet, and then locked the front door behind him.
Before starting his truck, he paused, looking back at the house. His eye roamed over the other dark homes in the neighborhood. He took a deep breath and fired up the engine.
This wouldn’t go unnoticed. Not in this town.
Snowflakes fell fat and fast as Mark’s truck climbed the road to his house. Sure enough, when he pulled up, the lights were on downstairs and a police car was parked in the drive.
Great. He checked his phone and found a dozen texts, missed calls, and several voice messages. The texts had stopped around one a.m. He took a deep breath, then went in to face the blitz.
When he opened the door, though, he found his dad and Lester playing cards at the dining table.
“Hello, son.” His dad adjusted the cards in his hand, his poker face on.
Lester nodded. “Hey, Mark.” He dropped a card on the table.
“Hey,” Mark said. “It’s snowing out there, did you know?”
They both nodded. “Hope it keeps up,” Les said.
Mark resisted the urge to walk up to his room. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re a grown man,” his dad said, picking a card from a pile and adding it to his hand.
“Yeah, but I fell asleep. And I know how you worry, so . . .”
His dad discarded. “Gin,” he said.
Lester groaned. He stretched, leaning back in the chair. “That’s three in a row. I know when to pack it up and go home.” He stood and picked up his hat.
His dad gathered up the cards, smiling. “Thanks for the games, Les. It’s been a while.”
“Wouldn’t know it.” He walked toward Mark. “Your dad plays for keeps.” He looked over his shoulder and put his hat on. “Thanks for the lemonade, Cal.”
“Least I can do.” He nodded and kept cleaning up, disappearing into the kitchen.
Lester put his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “He had a couple of us out looking. I drove past Ms. Madigan’s and saw your truck. He was fine after that. But he’s had a scare.”
Mark locked eyes with Lester. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
Lester nodded and moved past him.
“Hey, Les?” Mark asked.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing happened. With Ms. Madigan. She’s a friend. We were just talking and fell asleep.”
Lester raised his hands. “None of my business.” He paused. “But off the record, it was kind of good to find you where I did.” He winked and shut the door behind him.
Mark’s shoulders sagged. He hung up his coat as his dad wandered into the front room.
“Dad, I’m really sorry. We got talking and fell asleep. I swear that’s all that happened.” He sounded like a teenager caught out too late after prom. He was almost twenty-seven years old. He shouldn’t care what anyone thought. But he cared about scaring his dad. And he cared about protecting Riley’s privacy. “My phone was off, and I wasn’t thinking about how you’d be worried.”
His dad put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at him a few seconds and then pulled him into a hug. “I was worried. But, son? That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say in a really long time.” He pulled away from him. “Now get some sleep. We’ve got a meeting about the memorial at Town Hall in six hours.”
Mark nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “Thanks, Dad.”
Once in his room, he pulled down the box from his closet and sat on the bed with it. Setting the lid aside, he pulled out a stack of letters and cards. A lot were from family. People from town. He separated out a few, though. Some from Zack. Some from Dylan. Some from the brothers, Ben and Cade, Miguel and Diego. He read through their handwritten letters and looked at the pictures they’d drawn. He unfolded their cards and shook his head at the enthusiasm of young boys with heroes.
He gathered the small stack and rose, crossing the room to his desk. He removed a few old certificates and pictures from the bulletin board and replaced them with the cards and pictures from the boys.
After a moment, Mark added one more photo to the board. The image of two new firefighters smiled back at him, fresh off their first call, arms around each other’s shoulders.
Celebrating.
Mark’s eyes clouded over. He blinked and pushed out a br
eath.
“We did it, man,” he said, his voice hushed. “We did it.”
Riley woke to the morning sun in her face. As she moved her hand to shade her eyes, something hard and smooth shifted under her fingers.
She blinked and turned the object, letting her eyes focus.
The glass doorknob.
She remembered and sat up.
She’d slept on the couch. All night. She looked around, because Mark had been here with her, with the fire. And his story.
The light that had hit her shone from the thin space between the front curtains. She stood, stretching, and then walked over to the window and opened them wide.
She gasped. A foot of snow covered the ground, and the morning sun reflected off it, making everything brilliant. She lifted the glass knob to the light, watching the refracted diamonds of sunlight on her walls.
Her phone rang, and she turned in a circle, trying to pinpoint where she’d left it. Hurrying to the kitchen, she found it on the window ledge above the sink.
“Hello?” Her heart pounded from the quick run.
“Hey, I almost gave up on you there.”
“Oh, hi, Dalton,” she said, leaning against the counter. “I thought you were somebody else.”
“I hope it wasn’t Rivers,” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing, just kidding. How about this white stuff? It’s about time.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful.”
“A beast to drive in, but we sure need it.”
“Yes, we do. I thought you were in Seattle.”
“Our plans got snowed out. I was hoping I could take you to dinner tonight. We won regionals last night, and the coaches feel like celebrating.”
“Oh, I hadn’t heard. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. Are you feeling okay? I didn’t see you at school yesterday.”
She pushed her hair back. “I’m just waking up.” She glanced at the clock. Nine thirty-four. “Slept in.”
“Late night, huh?”
“Mm,” she said. “Not really.” She had no idea what time she’d fallen asleep, but she didn’t think it had been that late. And anyway, she didn’t need to report to Dalton. There’d been plenty of days where she hadn’t seen him during school. “Just slept hard.”
“I’m glad you’re not sick. Join me for dinner. I’m the only one without an instant date, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m overwhelmed by your offer.”
“I didn’t say that right, did I? Let me try again. Riley, it would bring me great pleasure if you joined me for dinner with my colleagues as we celebrate our victory.”
She hesitated, remembering their last evening together. “I have a lot to do.”
“Work all day if you want. We’re going to Visconti’s.”
She’d heard of the Italian restaurant, and knew it was in Wenatchee, not Leavenworth. But she wasn’t sure she needed another night out with Dalton.
“Listen, Riley,” his said, his voice softer. “I’ll be honest with you. I think I might have said some things the other night that came off as brash, and I’m sorry. That crack about the Riverses’ nativity—it was art and you’re an artist, right? I know I’m a little rough around the edges. I’m hard on people, but I think it’s because I’m hard on myself. At least that’s what my ex says.” He laughed a little, sounding nervous.
She waited.
“You’re not arguing the point,” he said, “so I’m guessing you agree.”
“Dalton, I’m not looking for a relationship right now.” Even as she said it, she tasted the lie.
He blew out a breath. “I think we both know I’m not a relationship kind of guy,” he said, sounding defeated. “But I’ve always been honest with you. The fact is I enjoy your company, and I don’t want to face these guys and their wives alone tonight.”
Riley rubbed her forehead. She knew what that was like. She’d been the fifth wheel a few times with people who wanted to talk about mortgages and babysitters and where they went on their honeymoons. And she wouldn’t be alone with Dalton. He’d talk with his staff about the game and championships and plans for next season.
“I can join you for dinner,” she said. “But I do have a lot of work to do to meet my deadline.”
“Deal. Just there and back. You’re a sweetheart, Riley. You won’t regret it. I’ll pick you up at six.”
She hung up and stared out the kitchen window.
She’d gone out with men like Dalton. And that had been fine and safe. Low-risk. They were unattached and fine with it. It had been the same with Gavin in the beginning, but then it had changed. At least, for her it had. She thought it had for him, too, but she’d been wrong. And now she found herself comparing all those men to one man. A man she wasn’t even dating. A man who was quiet but drew her out, who didn’t demand anything of her but friendship. A man who had battled the depths of hell and still couldn’t see how far he’d come out of them.
She turned away from the window, feeling heat run up her neck to her cheeks. She couldn’t be falling for Mark. They were just friends. That’s all it could be, because she had no idea how long she’d be here. Because she couldn’t trust her heart to anyone. She’d told him that.
And yet her heart pounded at the thought of being near him. Traitor.
A car honked twice, and she walked to the front window. Mark’s truck was pulling away, his dad lifting a hand to wave as they drove down the street.
She watched them go, her hand lifted in a wave, disappointed they hadn’t stopped. More disappointed than she should’ve been.
Then she saw her driveway. And her walk. All of it, shoveled.
Mark and his dad sat at one end of a conference table in one of the city offices with Jay’s parents, Nancy and Erik Hendricks. The head of the parks association, the head of the zoning board, and the mayor sat at the other end.
“This is really just a meeting to finalize details,” Mayor Evelyn Joffs said, scrolling through her iPad. “Everything is a go. The mason finished before the snow came. Still waiting on the plaque, but delivery is scheduled for the Tuesday after Thanksgiving so that gives us a few days leeway.” She looked up and smiled. “Do you have any concerns, Mark?”
Mark shifted in his seat. “I was hoping you or Chief Bennett would be giving a speech, too.”
“I’ll give the introduction, of course, but I thought we’d agreed to keep it simple.”
Erik Hendricks spoke up. “We wouldn’t want it any other way, Mark.”
Mark nodded.
His dad put his hand on his shoulder. “You up to this?”
Telling his story to Riley, focusing on how they’d saved the boys, instead of how he’d been hurt like he’d had to tell others . . . it had changed the story. It had changed him. The details were still the same, but it was no longer his story of failure. Rather it was his and Jay’s story of doing what they could, together. Every one of those boys lived. It still wrenched his gut that he was the only one who’d made it out. But he had to believe Jay was okay where he was. He’d wanted those boys to live no matter the cost.
Mark still had to fight his way through. But maybe he was finally starting to come to terms with that. “I’ll do my best.”
“Excellent,” Evelyn said. “We’ll start getting the word out. The volunteer fire department and local businesses have agreed to help us with that.”
Mark knew the city council felt the memorial ceremony a fitting lead-in to the firemen’s holiday ball and fundraiser the following weekend. He couldn’t disagree, but he appreciated the mayor leaving that part out just now.
She nodded at the others. “Chris, Jenny, thank you for your help laying the groundwork. Mr. and Mrs. Hendricks, can we do anything else for you?”
Nancy shook her head. “We’re amazed and humbled by all of this. Mark, we c
an’t thank you enough for starting the memorial fund. I know what you two meant to each other. You were pie and ice cream, the both of you.” She leaned toward him, with Jay’s blue eyes piercing him through. “He would be so proud of you. And not just because of this.” She squeezed his hand.
“We all are,” Evelyn said, and the others nodded, making Mark want to shrink back into a hood. But he wasn’t wearing one.
“I think that’s everything,” Evelyn continued. “Thank you, everyone, for coming despite the snow. Be safe, build a snowman or two, and barring any hiccups, I’ll see you on December third. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Hey.
Riley smiled at Mark’s text. Hey, she replied. Thanks for shoveling my driveway. You and your dad rock.
Yep.
She laughed. I mean it.
So do I. We totally rock.
Shaking her head, she sat down at the metal desk in her art room and stretched. She’d painted all morning, only stopping to eat an apple and refill her water bottle.
She wanted to ask him about last night. About when he left and why he hadn’t woken her up, and how he’d put the glass doorknob in her hand and how it had made her feel like he was still there, a little bit. Because maybe then she’d stop wondering about it all. Because she’d been carrying around that dang doorknob all day.
But asking him all that would be showing more interest than she wanted to. He’d bared his soul to her and then they’d slept. On her couch. She wasn’t sure what the boundaries were here, friends or not.
She scratched some dry paint off her arm, then texted him again. The star’s done. I’ve started the shepherd.
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