Fully Involved (Island Fire Book 3)

by Amy Knupp

  She looked at him. “You will?”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  Andie nodded. “I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

  He fought not to touch her, to comfort her, to soothe away her fear. Losing the battle, he stood and turned her toward him. “You may frustrate me until I want to shake you, Andie, but I meant what I said. I love you. I’m not about to let anyone hurt you in any way.”

  When she finally looked up at him, tears filled her eyes. “Thank you.”

  He must be a glutton for punishment, because he pulled her to him and held on.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Andie and Clay didn’t speak as they waited at a high table at the outdoor bar. He ordered a beer and Andie sipped on a lemonade, mostly for something to occupy her. She’d seated herself so that both entrances to the place were in her view, wanting to spot Trevor before he saw her.

  At ten minutes after twelve, when Clay had said for the dozenth time they should leave since the bastard couldn’t manage to show up on time, Trevor walked in from the hotel.

  “There he is,” she said.

  Clay followed her gaze but didn’t say anything, just took a swig from his bottle.

  Trevor zeroed in on her and headed her way. He looked … good. He always had, with his blond hair and rough edges. He’d put on some muscles and slimmed down in prison. Andie waited for the old emotions, any of them, to hit her.

  She exhaled quietly in relief when they didn’t.

  When he got to the table, he glanced at Clay before turning to her.

  “Andie, you look great.”

  Clay tensed and she put a hand on his thigh under the table.

  “Trevor, this is Clay Marlow, a friend of mine.”

  He nodded at Clay. “I hoped we could talk privately.”

  “Anything you have to tell me you can say in front of Clay.”

  Trevor seemed to consider that and finally nodded. He slid onto the empty stool.

  Their waiter came by and took Trevor’s drink order.

  “What do you want?” Andie said as soon as the waiter left. “Why have you been stalking me?”

  “I knew you saw me at the wedding,” he said, taking a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the table and shoving a few in his mouth.

  “After we got ice?” Clay asked her, as if finally figuring out why she’d left early.

  Andie nodded, distracted. “You were at the Shell Shack again Thursday night.”

  Trevor tilted his head. “You weren’t. Though I’ve seen you there before. Working.”

  “Why the hell have you been spying on me?” The idea that he’d been watching her without her knowledge creeped her out and made her want to slam a boulder from the jetty into his head.

  “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to talk to you.”

  Andie narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit.”

  The waiter delivered Trevor’s iced tea, and Andie realized it was strange for him not to order a beer. He’d always drunk beer.

  Trevor took a swallow and set the glass down. “I know you’re not going to believe me, Andie, but I’ve changed.”

  She scoffed automatically.

  “I’m not here to ask you to take me back.”

  “What are you here for? Cut to the punch line,” Andie said. “I’ve got better things to do.”

  “The reason I wanted to talk to you is so that I could apologize. I caused you so much pain. All kinds of pain. I realize you can’t forgive me, but I needed to face up to you and say I’m sorry.”

  Andie looked at Clay and he took her hand, still on his leg, and twined their fingers together.

  “Is this for real?” she asked Trevor.

  “Why else would I do it? I drove all the way from Illinois, Andie.”

  She nodded, not sure what to think.

  “I won’t lie and say it’s selfless. Facing up to you is for me.”

  “So now you’ve faced me. You’ve said sorry. You can go.” She couldn’t begin to process what he was saying, what was happening, because it was so far off from anything she’d ever imagined.

  He stood and dug into the pocket of his jeans. “One last thing. I have something that belongs to you. My brother found it in the kitchen.”

  The kitchen where he’d taken a corkscrew to the inside of her arm and knocked her around until he’d broken three of her bones. The memory made her dizzy, light-headed.

  “Andie?” Clay squeezed her hand as he said her name.

  She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  Trevor held out his hand. “Your necklace. I remember it was important to you.”

  Andie sucked in her breath and took it from him. “My butterfly necklace.”

  “The chain was broken. I put a new one on it.”

  She let it dangle from her fingers, then clasped her fist around it to keep it safe. “Thank you for returning it.”

  “You couldn’t have mailed that to her?” Clay asked.

  “I told you, I needed to face her. Apologize.”

  “Are you supposed to travel out of state?”

  “My parole officer knows where I am, in case it’s any of your business.”

  “Then he’ll be thrilled to hear you’re on your way back home. Thank you for giving Andie her necklace. Don’t ever contact her again.”

  Trevor glanced between Clay and Andie, then nodded.

  Andie opened her hand and held the inexpensive silver charm in her fingers, surveying the etched detail of the butterfly’s wings. Remembering. She’d found the necklace on the sidewalk in Chicago not long after she’d left her father’s house. Somehow it had given her hope.

  “You ready to leave?” Clay asked her.

  Andie nodded. “Like he said, don’t call me or search for me again,” she told Trevor. She was shocked to realize she had trouble summoning any real anger toward him. She couldn’t seem to feel anything toward him at all. As if he didn’t exist.

  “Let’s go,” Clay said.

  She took one last look at Trevor, then grasped Clay’s hand. They walked to the parking lot, to Clay’s motorcycle.

  “You doing okay?” he asked as they put on their helmets.

  Andie nodded. “Yeah, actually. That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Weird.”

  They climbed on the bike.

  “Home?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Andie nodded and frowned, thinking that it wasn’t her home anymore. That it was time to leave.

  That she didn’t want to leave.

  oOo

  Andie’s bags were by the door, ready to go. She’d been sitting on the futon, staring at them for ten minutes, working up her courage.

  Clay didn’t know she was planning to take off this afternoon. When they’d gotten back from meeting Trevor, he’d muttered a casual good-bye as he’d hurried up the stairs to Payton, anxious to relieve Bridget since she’d agreed to come over without notice.

  Andie heard Bridget descend the stairs. Now was her chance.

  She ran her fingers over the butterfly charm she held in one hand, reassuring herself that she wasn’t about to make a mistake or a wrong choice. This was the biggest decision of her life and her heart pounded hummingbird fast.

  Slowly, she nodded. Closed her eyes. Then popped up off the futon.

  She grabbed her knapsack, jogged up the steps to Clay’s door, and knocked.

  “Hi,” she said when he opened it.

  “Hi?”

  “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

  “Another one?”

  “Yes. Two in one day. I’ll owe you.”

  He glanced behind him, and Andie spotted Payton sitting in front of the coffee table, rolling out a ball of Play-Doh.

  “What do you need?” he asked, stepping outside but keeping the door wide open.

  “Could you fasten this necklace around my neck? I’ve been trying ever since we got home.”

  His forehead creased but he said, “Turn around.”
<
br />   She turned and held her hair out of the way. She could feel the heat of him along her back and longed to have him even closer.

  He clasped the chain for her and she raised her hand to the charm. She leaned her back against the railing.

  “I found this necklace a couple of weeks after I left home,” she said.

  Clay checked Payton behind him again and stepped out onto the wood planking of the landing next to Andie.

  “I was enthralled by the butterfly,” Andie continued. “I remember thinking about how a butterfly was so beautiful and delicate-looking and yet so free. I decided the necklace would be my reminder to be free, to live my life the way I wanted to.”

  “I like that,” Clay said. “A little new age, but it’s a good message.”

  Andie nodded. “Worked well for me. Until Trevor. I don’t know how or when, but I stopped living the way I wanted to. I let him control me.” She closed her eyes, ashamed at the admission.

  Clay touched her arm. “You don’t have to talk about this.”

  “I do. Bear with me.” She took a slow breath and continued, “When I met him, I was twenty years old. I’d been on my own for four years. Mostly alone. I’d had roommates and coworkers and guys I stayed with, but no ties. Trevor was the first.”

  Clay sat on the top step and gestured for her to sit next to him.

  Once seated, she continued. “I fell hard for him. He seemed to care so much, did all the right things. Bought me gifts, took me out.”

  “When did it start getting bad?”

  “We’d been living together for almost a year,” she said. “A guy I worked with had called one evening while I was out picking up dinner, wanting me to take his hours. Trevor thought he called because there was something going on between us. We fought. He slapped me.” She ran her fingers over her eyes. “I forgave him.”

  Clay took her hand in his.

  “It happened infrequently at first. A few weeks would pass without incident. Then he’d get so mad he’d hurt me again.”

  Clay’s jaw was tight and she could see a muscle twitching in his cheek.

  “You don’t need all the details,” she said. “Just that I didn’t find the courage to leave him for three more years. And it took a trip to the emergency room even then.”

  Andie pulled her hand away from him. “I was so stupid. After everything with my dad, I should’ve gotten out of there after the first time.”

  Clay ran his thumb soothingly over her fingers. “It must’ve been hell.”

  “Accurate description. Three years, Clay.”

  He put his arm around her and drew her to his side. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to know who I am. All my stupid decisions.”

  “Why? What’s the point?”

  “My point is that if this changes the way you feel about me, I want to know now. I need to know.”

  “Why would it change anything?”

  “It’s just … hard to really know a person,” she said.

  “And you want me to know you.”

  “Yes.”

  “How come?”

  She held up her necklace. “I lost my necklace the last night I was with Trevor. It must’ve broken when we were fighting. I got the tattoo on my back to replace it. To remind me, permanently, that I can live the way I want to.” She turned to face him. “Clay, I love you. I … trust you. Which is kind of a big deal for me.”

  He took both of her hands in his, and the warmth in his eyes told her everything. “I understand that.” She opened her knapsack and took out the gun. As he watched, she unloaded it. Dropping the ammo back in her bag, she held out the gun to him.

  “I won’t need this anymore. I want to live my life with you. And Payton. If you’ll still have me after everything I just told you.”

  Clay took the gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans. “I love you too, Andie Tyler. And I’ll do better than just have you. If you think you’re up for it, I’ll give you the ride of your life.”

  “That sounds good on so many—”

  “Daddy?” Payton cut in. Andie hadn’t heard her come outside. “Is Miss Andie going to marry you now?”

  Andie and Clay laughed.

  “I’ll leave that up to Miss Andie herself.” He stood, pulling Andie up with him, their hands still entwined. “What do you say, Miss Andie? Will you marry us?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “That depends,” she said, trying to keep a straight face. “Can we all ride together?”

  Clay looked down at his daughter. “What do you think, girly? Can that be arranged?”

  “Yes!” Payton jumped up and down, which was exactly what Andie felt like doing. So she did. She took Payton’s hands in hers and joined her. Then she went back to Clay’s arms.

  “Yes. I’ll marry you. And your daughter and your used Harley and everything else about you.”

  Clay kissed Andie slowly, thoroughly, until Payton thumped both of them on their legs.

  “Hey! You two are gonna have to cut that out sometimes.”

  Laughing, Clay picked his daughter up. She put one arm around Clay’s neck and one around Andie’s.

  “It’s the middle of the afternoon, so we can’t ride into the sunset together,” Clay joked, “but we could celebrate at Lamberts.”

  Andie touched her forehead to his. “We could. Since it’s a special occasion and all. But after that, for the first time in my life, I plan to stay in as much as possible.”

  Clay kissed her tenderly. “Welcome home, biker girl.”

  Author’s Note

  Thanks for reading Fully Involved. I hope you enjoyed it!

  Reviews help other readers find books and can be as short (or long) as you feel comfortable with. Just a couple sentences is all it takes. I hope you’ll consider leaving a review for Fully Involved. I appreciate all honest reviews.

  Fully Involved is a stand-alone story in the Island Fire series, which includes:

  Playing with Fire

  Heat of the Night

  Fully Involved

  Impulse (short story)

  Slow Burn (short story)

  Fire Within (novella)

  You might also enjoy the Hale Street series, which includes:

  Sweet Spot

  Soft Spot (novella)

  One and Only

  Last First Kiss (novella)

  If you’d like to know when my next book is available, you can sign up for my newsletter at www.amyknupp.com, like my Facebook page at http://facebook.com/AuthorAmyKnupp, or follow me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/amyknupp.

  If you’d like to read an excerpt from Fire Within, please turn the page.

  Fire Within

  Sophie Alexander was going to die alone.

  While she had long ago made the choice to live by herself, to be independent and self-sufficient in every way, dying alone was different. Creepy. Unnerving.

  Okay, terrifying.

  She was in her office — she knew that much. But everything else was confusing, including the layout, which she’d thought she knew back and forth and upside down. She should, as much time as she spent here. But the heat and the thick, lung-scorching smoke had sent her internal GPS powers to hell. Plus, the throbbing, swelling knot on the side of her head hurt so badly she couldn’t think straight.

  Ironic that her life’s mission was to make the world greener, safer, and she was going to be asphyxiated by vile, poisonous gases in a fire.

  Irony could suck it.

  Her mind was scrambled like an egg, like the frog her satan-spawn brother had run through their mother’s good blender when he was thirteen. No. She was not going to waste a single thought on him, especially if these were among her last.

  And she was definitely not going to just lie here and give up. Giving up went against everything inside of her. She’d never been a quitter, and lying in a stifling, smoke-filled sweatbox, coughing her brains out, was not going to change that.

  She didn’t want to
die. She had too much to live for. She had a company to run, buildings to improve, personal goals to kick ass at, literally and figuratively. Lying here and giving up was not an option.

  Sophie pulled her smoke-saturated shirt over her mouth and nose, as if that would help much, and fought hard to stop coughing with every inhale. She hoisted her concrete-heavy body up on all fours as best she could and crawled a few feet, unsure of the direction she moved in but thinking if she kept going, she’d eventually run in to something. Preferably an exit.

  oOo

  Heavy, blinding smoke was a bitch. One of the worst parts of being a firefighter, in Nate Rottinghaus’s opinion. Masks were a pain in the ass, but he couldn’t imagine doing the job without one, the way they had just a couple decades ago. He adjusted his again, praying his supply would last.

  He was deep inside the second level of the two-story office building, crawling as low to the floor as he could get. Visibility: zero. Status quo. He continued to navigate by touch, blindly searching every inch in front of him with his gloved hands. Hoping.

  One of the tenants from the first floor of the building, who hadn’t been present when the fire had broken out, reported that the tenant in the upstairs office on the north end — this one — might be inside. A thirty-something female who practically lived in her office. Her Lexus SUV was in the lot, and the downstairs tenant had heard her footsteps above his office just a couple of hours ago. No one had seen her leave.

  Nate was all business when he was working a fire. Couldn’t afford not to be. Two years ago, he’d learned the up-close-and-personal way that lives could be altered in a millisecond in the heart of a blaze. Thank God for Faith Mendoza, his former colleague and now the chief’s wife, who’d saved his sorry ass.

  Nate was still waiting for his opportunity to pay it forward.