Last night had ended better than he expected it to when he arrived. Her secret had loomed over their dinner, but as the evening wore on, the worry seemed to fade away and things returned to normal. After they’d eaten dinner, they snuggled on the couch together and watched a little TV before heading to the bedroom. He’d reluctantly left around ten, knowing he’d have to be up and at work by six the next morning.
Grant hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he would happily spend every evening that way. Tonight included. Reaching for his phone, he texted her about bringing takeout and a movie to her house when he got done. She replied back a moment later that it sounded fine, no war movies, and to let her know if he’d be late.
“Found them,” Mack pointed up ahead as he spied the lights of the ambulance. He pulled over just past the scene of the accident. A small blue car had gone off the road and rolled into the ditch, thankfully landing right side up. Naomi and Isaac were down by the car.
They grabbed their equipment and slid down the steep, grassy embankment to where the car had landed.
“What have we got?” Mack asked.
“The guy says he was on his way home when a deer ran out in front of him and he went off the road. We’ve cut off his seat belt and removed the deployed air bags, but he’s driving one of those tiny European compact cars and he’s not a small man, so we’re having some difficulty getting him out. One of his legs is pinned by the dashboard.”
“Are his injuries serious?” Grant followed up.
“I think that leg is broken. He’s got a laceration on his forehead that’s bleeding like crazy, and I think he knocked a tooth out. Nothing life threatening, but I’d like to get him out fast. We got the engine turned off, but there’s a little bit of smoke that’s worrying me because I can smell gas leaking.”
“We’re on it. Grant, go check him out. I’m going to get the hydraulic cutter. I’m worried about that gas leak. I want him out as quickly as we can.”
Nodding, Grant continued down to where the car was. It was one of those little Smart cars, at least, that’s what it started as. Right now, it looked like a crumpled ball of blue foil. As he got closer, he was able to see the man in the car was covered in blood. Head wounds were notorious for bleeding.
As he took another step, a rock slid beneath his boot. He fell to the ground, sliding down the embankment and hitting the back of his head on the case of equipment he’d carried with him. The hard whack of the metal against his head reverberated in his skull for a minute. His brain swam in the sea of confusion as darkness threatened to swallow him.
“Grant?” Isaac hovered over him, shining a flashlight into his eyes. “You okay?”
Blinking away the light, Grant winced and pushed himself up into a seated position. He touched the back of his head, but he wasn’t bleeding. There was just a knot rising up. “Yeah. I uh . . . slipped. I’ll be okay.”
Isaac helped him back up and returned to what he was doing. Grant dusted the grass off his pants, picked up his case, and headed back to do his job. He had work to do, no matter how badly his head was starting to pound.
The dashboard had collapsed in the rollover, pinning the man’s leg beneath it. They had almost no room to maneuver. They could cut away the side of the car, but there was no backseat and very little hatch space, just a steel cage that had managed to protect him but wasn’t so inclined to release him.
He picked up the radio at his hip, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his skull. “Mack, bring the ram, too. That might work better than the wood blocks with the way the dash is sitting.”
“Is Roscoe okay?” the man in the car asked.
“Roscoe?” Grant turned to Naomi.
“Yes, Mr. Barker. We can see Roscoe in the back. He seems to be all right.”
Grant leaned over to see the small dog carrier in the back of the car. Inside was a little black-and-white Boston terrier. They needed to get the pup out of the car and out of the way so they could maneuver the driver’s removal.
Turning back to Isaac, he asked, “Will the back hatch open?”
Isaac went around and with a hard tug was able to jerk open the rear hatch window, then lower the bottom half, like the tailgate of a truck. Grant reached in and picked up the dog carrier. The dog wasn’t bleeding and didn’t exhibit any injuries, like favoring a paw. He was likely just shaken up from his bounce around the hatch when the car rolled. Grant said a few soft words to calm the little thing and sat his carrier a few feet away, well out of the work zone.
When he returned to the car, Isaac reached through the hatch and supported the back of the man’s seat as Grant pulled the lever to lower it backward.
“Does that take any of the pressure off your leg, Mr. Barker?” Naomi asked.
“Some, yeah.” Mr. Barker tried moving his leg and was able to shift it a little to the left. “It’s still pinned.”
Grant heard Mack yank the cord to start the hydraulic power unit. He turned to help him hook up the hoses and get ready to peel away the metal. Beside him was a tote bag full of two-by-fours that they used to prop doors and other heavy objects.
“I think if we can use the ram to push up the dash and hold it in place with the wood, we may be able to get his leg out. Then we can cut away the side and slip him out that way, or through the back of the car.”
Mack handed over the ram and the bag, and Grant rounded the car to try to open the other door. It opened about a foot before squealing to a stop, but it was enough for him to get in and kick it open further with his boot. From there, he could lean onto the floorboard and wedge the ram into place. The ram expanded to almost double its length, pushing the collapsed front of the vehicle back almost to where it had been before the accident. He wedged in pieces of wood to support the gap and hold it in place after they removed the ram.
Mack cut off the driver’s-side door and started peeling the rest of the side away like a tin of sardines. The sound of it grated against Grant’s already throbbing head like nails across a chalkboard. Naomi and Isaac moved the gurney into place.
After a few more minutes of cutting and negotiating the twisted metal, they were able to free Mr. Barker’s leg. They hoisted the man onto the gurney and Mack helped them up the steep embankment to the ambulance.
Grant was slowly easing back the ram when he noticed the smoke rising from the engine block. The black cloud was almost as thick as the fuzziness in his own mind. The smoke hadn’t been that bad before, but shifting around the dash could’ve made something worse. He pulled the last of the equipment out, rounding the car. He scooped up the power unit and helped Mack haul everything back up to the truck.
“Hurry!” Mack shouted.
The car was smoking in earnest now, thick, black clouds billowing out from under the hood. The paint on the hood was starting to blacken and bubble, with flames licking around the edge. “Grab the extinguisher.”
They got the man out just in time, but they had to contain the fire. With the rescue truck, all they had was the fire extinguishers they had on board. If they could put out the fire before the fuel tank caught, that would be enough. The tanks were designed not to blow, but if there was a leak in the line . . .
“Radio for the night shift to meet us out here with the fire truck, just in case,” Grant said, carrying the extinguisher down to shoot foam at the car from a relatively safe distance.
“Don’t forget Roscoe!” Mr. Barker cried from the back of the ambulance.
Crap. Grant looked to the right where the dog carrier was still sitting. The scared pup started whimpering as he got close. Poor little guy. He could smell the smoke and he was scared to death.
“Hey there. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Grant said. The dog looked up at him with wide, trusting brown eyes and the funny sort of grin that bulldogs seem to have. Grant set down the extinguisher and grabbed the carrier to hand it up to Mack.
With the dog safely stowed in the ambulance with his owner, Grant returned to pick up his fire extinguisher and put out the
flames before they got too much worse. While he was dealing with the dog, the flames had spread into the cab, lighting the fabric seats and the duffel bag that was sitting on the passenger side.
“I’m going to need more!” Grant shouted to Mack and lifted the nozzle to put it out. He was only a few steps from the car when he heard a loud hissing sound.
His normal reaction would’ve been to run, but his brain was simply not cooperating with his body. Before he could do anything, the car exploded and everything went black.
“Is he okay?” Pepper asked as she rushed into the hospital waiting room.
Mack was there, along with Blake, Ivy, Maddie, and Hazel. Blake stood up when she arrived, giving her a nod, followed by a hug. “He’ll be okay. Mom and Dad are in with him right now. They said they’re going to release him tonight.”
“What happened?” Practically speaking, Pepper knew serious injuries were always a possibility with his job, but she wasn’t expecting to get that text from Ivy so soon.
When she didn’t hear back from Grant about their dinner plans, she thought maybe the accident was bigger than they anticipated. She didn’t want to text him while he was working at saving lives. An hour went by. Then two. Then three. When her phone finally chirped, it was Ivy’s text and her worst fears were suddenly very real.
“I guess I can’t blame him since he had a head injury and was in shock,” Mack said, standing up from his seat, “but the guy didn’t tell us that he had a portable tank of propane in his duffel bag. At the time, I didn’t think the car was going to catch fire or we would’ve checked for flammables. When the fire spread to the cab, the tank exploded. It blew Grant back about ten feet through the air and set his shirt on fire.”
“He was burned?” Pepper felt her chest ache. Ivy had left out any details in the text and just told her to meet them at the hospital. For all she knew, he’d been completely engulfed in flames or had a leg blown off.
“His left forearm got the worst of it,” Blake explained. “He’ll be out of work for a few weeks until it heals up. Riding his motorcycle might take longer, depending on how well he can use the clutch.”
The doors to the waiting room opened and Grant’s parents came out. Pepper was unprepared for the visceral reaction she had to seeing Norman Chamberlain for the first time after learning the whole story from her mother. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to claw his eyes out or kick him in the junk that had caused all her mother’s troubles.
She balled her hands into fists and took a deep breath. Neither was appropriate. For one thing, those eyes were the same as Logan’s. And Grant’s. She might hate Norman, but she couldn’t hate the beautiful blue eyes that she stared into as she lay with Grant. For another, tonight was about Grant, not about what happened almost thirty years ago.
“How is he?” she asked.
Norman narrowed his gaze at Pepper. She could tell he was trying to place her and figure out why she was here. Fortunately, Blake stepped in.
“Dad, this is Grant’s girlfriend, Pepper.”
Norman nodded and put his arm around Helen’s shoulders as she sniffled into her tissues. “I know who she is. You’re Kate Weaver’s girl, aren’t you? You look just like she did at that age.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied through gritted teeth. “It’s Kate Anthony now.”
“Of course, she married the fellow from the gas station.” There was a smirk curling his lips that made his blue eyes seem to twinkle with amusement. Did he think it was funny that his mother had been put in that position? “I saw him at the funeral with your brother. How’s he doing since his stroke?”
Pepper took another deep breath, trying to ignore the way he so casually referred to her brother as though he were no more significant than any other of her family members. “He’s doing better. We’re hoping he can return to running the shop soon.”
“How’s Grant doing, Dad?” Blake asked, no doubt sensing the tension between the two of them.
“Fine. They’ve got him on IV antibiotics and fluids. He’s got a good dose of morphine in him at the moment to help with the pain. They don’t think the burn is serious enough to need surgery at this point, but they said it depends on how he heals.”
“Can I take Pepper back there with me to see him?”
Norman nodded. “They were about to give him a tetanus shot and unhook his IV when we left, but they’re probably done now.”
Blake put his arm around Pepper’s back and escorted her through the doors and down the hallway to the emergency room suites.
“Have you seen him yet?”
“Yeah,” Blake said. “Ivy and I were the first to get here. We followed Mack. He’s in a lot better shape now, after getting the medicine and having the wounds bandaged. It was pretty rough when he first arrived.”
“He was in a lot of pain?”
Blake nodded, stopping outside room D, which was draped with a closed curtain. “They said that it could be worse. Most of his nerve endings are dead where he was burned. Now he’s just high as a kite. You’ve been warned. I’ll wait out here.” He pulled back the curtain for her to walk in.
Grant was lying in the bed wearing a pale blue hospital gown. His arm was bandaged from his wrist up to his elbow. There was another bandage across his forehead and what seemed like a hundred tiny abrasions all over the rest of the skin she could see. She could feel tears welling in her eyes at the sight of him.
“Hey, Pep,” he said with a weary smile. “Sorry I stood you up for our dinner date.”
“You have a good excuse.” Pepper sat down on the edge of the bed and shook her head. “You look awful. What happened?”
“Apparently I forgot to stop, drop, and roll.” He raised up his arm. “You forget that stuff when you’re knocked unconscious by a Smart car steering wheel flying through the air like a Frisbee. But I saved the dog. That’s the important part, right?”
Pepper scooped up his good hand and gently held it in her lap. “When you use this story to pick up chicks later, you be sure to lead with that. The women will melt.”
Grant frowned at her. “You’re stupid,” he said bluntly.
“Pardon me?”
“Why are you talking about me picking up women? I thought you were my girlfriend. I’m not supposed to pick up women. Unless you’re dumping me. Are you dumping me? It’s a really shitty time to pick, if you are.”
“I’m not dumping you,” Pepper replied, wondering why a part of her was determined to think of this relationship as temporary.
“Good. I want you to take care of me. It would make it more awkward if we broke up first.”
Pepper’s brows went up in surprise. “Me? I figured they’d haul you away to the family mansion and saddle you with a private nurse.”
“That’s probably what they’re wanting to do, but I’m a grown man. I don’t want my mommy hovering over me. I want to go home and I want you to stay with me. Please.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to override your father’s decree. He looked at me like a peasant in the waiting room.”
“He looks at everyone that wa-y-y,” Grant said dismissively with a slight slur to his words. “He’s a big, old, stuck-up snob just like Maddie is. But you want to know something funny?”
“What’s that?”
“As high-and-mighty as he acts, when he cheats on my mother, it’s always with the women he turns his nose up at publicly.”
Pepper’s eyes grew wide at Grant’s morphine-fueled proclamation. Had he really just said what she thought he said? She knew Norman was unfaithful and rumors abounded in the salon, but she always thought he was smart enough to hide it from his family. Was he so arrogant that he’d flaunt it in front of his own children? Torture his wife with his blatant infidelity? Perhaps her mother was lucky to get away from Norman while she could.
“He’s a real bastard,” he muttered.
“Honey, you may want to stop talking until the medicine wears off.”
He shrugged, unconcer
ned about his loose lips. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Pepper. But I can tell you. You’re my girlfriend. That’s like being my lawyer, right? Relationship privilege.”
“Okay, but try to think before you speak when you get around the rest of your family.”
“I’ve kept that secret for twelve years. I’ll keep it for another twelve. Wait . . .” he stopped and looked at her with a frown drawing his brows together. “Except I just told you. Shoot.” His eyes glazed over a little as he studied her face. “You’re pretty,” he said with a dopey smile.
Before Pepper could reply, the nurse came in with his discharge papers. “Are you going to be caring for him?” she asked.
“Yes,” Pepper said. She hadn’t really given it much thought, but she didn’t normally work on the weekends unless someone needed to come in on a Saturday, so she could dedicate the next few days to helping him recover, just as he’d dedicated his time to helping with her house.
The nurse explained the care of Grant’s burns and stitches to her, how to watch for signs of infection, and handed over a couple prescriptions for antibiotics and pain.
“The pills might make him a little queasy, so make sure he eats before he takes them. And he needs as many calories, mostly from protein, that he can get. It will help his body by providing the building blocks it needs to regenerate that new skin.” The nurse turned to Grant. “Now, they told me your brother brought in some clothes for you to wear since yours are currently in the trash heap. We’ll have the orderly help you get dressed and roll you out to the car.”
An orderly came in with a wheelchair. Pepper took the paperwork and Grant’s bag of belongings, and stepped out of the room to wait with Blake while the man helped Grant dress.
“How is he? The medicine hit him pretty hard earlier.”
“He’s okay. Maybe a little more honest than he should be, but nothing exciting.”
“Honest, huh?” Blake turned toward the curtain with a curious expression. “I thought Grant was always honest. At least, he never holds back on his opinions and thoughts with me. I guess he’s been glossing over more than I thought.”
Feeding the Fire: A Rosewood Novel Page 18
