He hit the gas, swerved to the outside lane, and headed toward the back of the station.
The fire engines were out of sight now, the sirens fading into the distance.
11
Lucas screeched into the parking lot behind the station, and Jenna reached for the grab handle above the passenger door and braced her feet against the floorboard as if she had a brake pedal on her side of the vehicle. What was he doing?
The truck fishtailed and he slammed on the brakes and shoved open his door. Using the door as a crutch, he slid to the ground in one smooth motion.
She gripped the handle tighter. “Lucas? What’s going on?” Surely he wasn’t going to try to go help.
Not answering, he took off across the pavement toward the firehouse, his gait labored but steady. Jenna held her breath, watching through the windshield as he negotiated a patch of grass that ran between the curb and the sidewalk. She breathed easier. He really was doing so much better now—
He staggered and stumbled forward, apparently tripped up by something in the grass. He landed facedown on the sidewalk.
She gasped and fumbled for the door handle. “Are you okay?” She scrambled down from the pickup and ran to his side.
He groaned and rolled over, easing up to a sitting position. He grabbed his left leg, his face contorted.
“Are you all right?” she said again, offering him a hand.
But he ignored her and slammed his fists onto the concrete like a football player who’d just missed the winning touchdown pass. Jenna backed away, scrabbling out of his range.
She stood helplessly and watched as he rolled onto all fours and tried in vain to stand. Cursing, he fell prostrate, forehead to the ground.
She couldn’t tell if he was writhing in pain or humiliation, but given his harsh rejection of the help she’d offered, she hesitated to approach him again.
The fire engines were out of sight now, the sirens fading into the distance. After a few seconds of indecision, Jenna went to the pickup and retrieved his cane from beneath the seat where she’d seen him put it earlier.
She slammed the door of the truck and took a step toward him. “Lucas?” She risked another step. “Do I need to get help?”
He looked up at her, agony written on his face. “I’m fine.” His voice was stone cold. “There’s nobody here anyway. They dumped the station on this run.”
She held out the cane to him and he took it without a word.
“Do you want a hand up? How can I help?”
“I’ve got it. Thanks,” he grunted.
She bit her lip. She was only trying to help. What did he think he could accomplish by going to the firehouse in the first place? If she’d understood the dispatcher, the alarm was at the homeless shelter. It might be nothing … a false alarm. She hadn’t heard any other sirens. But why would they have sent all the engines? The thought stirred too many memories.
Before she could react, Lucas staked his cane in the ridge between the sidewalk and the grass and hauled himself to his feet. But he took one staggering step toward the truck and groaned.
She hurried to where he stood on one wobbly leg. “Let me help you—please.” Not waiting for permission, she slipped her arm around his waist, bracing her legs to bear his weight. “You’re hurt.”
He didn’t argue this time and used her shoulder and his cane like crutches, one tentative step at a time until they stood in front of the truck.
“Do you want me to drive?”
“No, I can drive. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You fell pretty hard back there.” She pointed back at the sidewalk.
“I’m fine. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”
Stubborn man. She shrugged and skirted around the bumper. Climbing into the truck, she resisted the temptation to slam the door.
A minute later he was back behind the wheel, massaging his leg. He put the keys in the ignition, turned the engine, and threw it in gear. He started to back out of the parking lot, but instead slipped the gear back in Park.
He sighed and turned to face her. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You didn’t deserve that. I was …” He rubbed his face, hiding behind his hands. He stayed that way for an uncomfortably long time.
Several lights blazed inside the station, but she knew the building was empty. She wondered again how he’d intended to help if anyone had been left at the station.
Finally he put his hands down, his profile outlined by the lights. He turned to her but refused to meet her gaze, sitting instead with one elbow on the steering wheel, staring out the windshield. “That was humiliating,” he finally whispered.
“I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Don’t be so sure. My pride may be fatally injured.”
She laughed, relieved to see a glimpse of the Lucas she knew. “It was a very graceful fall actually.” True, but that hadn’t made it any less frightening to watch.
“Ha!” He peeked briefly in her direction. “I know better than that. But you’re sweet to say so.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Not that it’s any of my business, but where were you going?”
“I—” He rubbed the space between his dark eyebrows and shrugged. “Something just kicked in when I heard the sirens. I felt like … like I needed to be here. Like I had to help.”
“Wow.”
“I know … weird. You’d think after a year I’d be over it.”
“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant ‘wow’ that you have that kind of dedication.”
“Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes. “For all the good it does me.”
“It’s still a noble thing, Lucas. To have that desire.” Her words felt stilted and awkward, but they were what came to her. Along with a memory. She hesitated, then decided to share it with him. “I remember once when we were on vacation in Colorado, we’d stopped for gas in some little town off the Interstate. We drove by their fire station just as the trucks were leaving. Zach followed them five or six miles out into the country. There was wheat stubble burning out of control, and Zach rolled up his sleeves and helped them fight that fire until it was out.”
Lucas smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. “That sounds like Zach all right.”
She hesitated, then risked putting a hand on his arm. “It sounds like you, too.”
“Uh-huh. And here I sit helpless as a baby while my buddies are out there risking their lives.”
She stared at him. Did he really not see? “Lucas. You’re sitting in this truck, with that cane, because you already risked your life. Who knows how many more people would have died that night if it wasn’t for you?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I appreciate the thought, Jenna, but the shelter had been evacuated by the time we got there. We were looking for a man who wasn’t there. Maybe never was there.”
“It doesn’t matter, Luc.” She flushed. She’d shortened his name without thinking about the intimacy it implied. “What you did was an act of heroism. And you’ll be paying—suffering—for it to some extent for the rest of your life.” She pointed to where his cane leaned against the console.
“It doesn’t feel like heroism. It feels like stupidity.”
“Lucas, stop it. You act like it’s your fault that you almost lost your legs in the fire. Your life! You were the lucky one. You made it out alive. You have so much to be thankful for. So much to live for.” She knew even as the words left her mouth that they would sound empty and patronizing to him. She knew because they would have been the same to Zach. “I’m sorry. I know that sounds trite.”
He offered a smile and met her eyes for the first time since he’d climbed back into the pickup. “I appreciate your intentions.”
“Ah, good intentions … You know what they say about those—pavement for the road to hell.”
“No, I mean it. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do.”
She shrugged, just wanting to change the subject.
Lucas changed it for her. “You know what? I’m hungry. Let’s go get a hamburger.”
“Now you’re talking some sense.” She laughed, feeling as if this evening might turn out okay after all.
Her cell phone gave a muffled ring. “Sorry. Hang on.” She dug the phone out of the belly of her purse and looked at the caller ID. Clarissa.
“Hello?”
“Jenna, is everything okay? Bill said he heard sirens a little while ago. We’re worried about you.”
“I’m fine, Clarissa. I’ll be home in a little while.”
“Well, I’ve got dinner on. I’ll keep it warm for you.”
She willed her voice to remain steady. “No, that’s okay. We’re going to grab a burger. Please don’t hold dinner for me.”
“We? Are you with Bryn?”
“I’ll see you this evening. I’ll be home around nine or so.” She hung up before Clarissa could grill her further. A low growl escaped her throat despite her efforts to hold it in.
“That was my—” Her phone trilled again and she checked the ID. “I don’t believe this. Do I look like I’m twelve years old? Wait—don’t answer that.” She tossed her phone back into her purse and stuffed it under the car seat.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose it would be appropriate here to ask what on earth were you thinking, moving in with your in-laws?”
“I love my in-laws. I really do. Clarissa and I are friends. At least I thought we were. But lately it’s like they think they own me.”
“So, do I need to take Cinderella home, or are we still going for burgers?” His smile was closer to a smirk.
She sighed. “Burgers. Definitely.”
“Burgers it is.” He shifted the truck into reverse, but keeping his foot on the brake, he turned to her, looking sheepish. “Do you mind if we make a quick sweep through town first … see if we can find out where the fire was?”
“Sure … of course.”
“Just to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Sure.” She tried to put him at ease with her smile, but right now he reminded her too much of Zach.
He was crazy to be having these fantasies. Especially after last night.
12
Lucas lopped an arm over the steering wheel, stuffed another French fry in his mouth, and tried to ignore the throbbing in his knee. That pain was nothing compared to the emotional trauma he felt reliving the fiasco from an hour ago. Heat rose to his cheeks and he was grateful for the cover of darkness the pickup’s cab afforded.
Jenna’s words soothed his embarrassment somewhat, but he felt ridiculous for thinking he had anything at all to offer the firefighters of Station 2. On their way back downtown, they’d met the line of emergency vehicles returning to the station, and all had appeared quiet when they drove by the homeless shelter.
He sighed. No matter how desperately his heart longed to be back on duty again, he’d proven tonight that physically he was not ready to sit behind a desk for more than a few hours, let alone fight a fire. He was worthless. And he had no business thinking of himself as a firefighter anymore. Those days were over. It was time he faced that fact.
Beside him, Jenna sat in silence. He’d felt helpless and small in front of her tonight. Why would a woman ever want to be with a man who couldn’t even take care of himself, much less protect her?
He quickly wiped the thought away. How dare he even think of Jenna in that way. This was his best friend’s wife he was thinking about. A woman in mourning who was living with Zach’s parents, no less. He was crazy to be having these fantasies. Especially after tonight.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
The genuine concern on her face only made him feel worse. “I’m fine.” He choked down another bite of his hamburger. It stuck in his throat, despite how hungry he was.
He swallowed hard, took a deep breath. “Listen, Jenna. I—I’m sorry for how this night turned out. I really didn’t mean for it to be all about me.”
“Would you quit? I’m just glad you’re okay. And hey”—she winked—“just look how you took my mind off my issues.”
“You feel like talking? About your issues? Now that I’ve got your mind off of them.” He gave a dry laugh.
She joined him, then shook her head, turning serious. “I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. The whole town is probably wondering if I’m out of my mind. I’m not sure I really had a choice. The sad thing is, considering my options, moving in with Zach’s parents is probably what I would have chosen regardless.”
His face must have given away his confusion because she went on to explain. “My other options were getting a full-time job, finding a one-bedroom apartment somewhere. I—” She dropped her head and blew out a heavy breath. “I just couldn’t face going back. I’ve come too far.”
“Going back? I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You don’t know where I come from. What I come from.”
He waited for her to explain, wondering at the faraway look that came to her hazel eyes.
“White trash.”
“Huh?”
“You know how they always talk about the wrong side of the tracks? Well, that’s where I grew up. I suppose my mom did the best she could, but my sister and I grew up with nothing. I never knew my dad. He bailed before I was born. If it hadn’t been for food stamps and Goodwill …” She grimaced and closed her eyes as if speaking of her past was physically painful.
He tried not to let her see his shock at the revelation. For some reason he’d assumed she was a blueblood, like Zach. She’d certainly worn the role well as a Morgan. “Zach never mentioned any of this. But that has nothing to do with who you are, Jenna.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah … Tell that to his mom. I met Zach, and when we got married, I swore I would never go back to that life again.” Something like anguish flashed across her face, and he regretted steering the conversation this direction.
“Wow. I’m sorry.” It seemed there was nothing they could talk about that didn’t bring pain.
She met his eyes and changed the subject. “Sorry, ancient history. And I really do feel bad ragging on Clarissa like this. They’ve been good to me—her and Bill both. I guess I should be trying to put myself in their shoes. If the tables were turned, I would be none too thrilled about having my in-laws move in with me in my house.” She made a comical face that said, “Heaven forbid!”
“So what are you going to do? Suck it up and live by their curfew, or start looking for a job and a place to live?”
“Ouch. You make it sound so cut-and-dried.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know there were other options.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m going to assume that was tongue-in-cheek.”
He smiled in reply.
“Even if I found a job tomorrow—a good job—it’ll be months before I save up enough to pay the bills.” She looked at her watch. “You know what, it’s getting late. I’d probably better get home—” She stopped abruptly.
He saw the stark realization cloud her face: she didn’t have a home anymore. And he hadn’t helped matters any. She’d needed a shoulder to cry on, and he’d only stirred up more pain.
He turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine a little. “I’ll take you back to your car.”
She nodded.
They rode in silence to the coffee shop where her car was parked. He thought about the guys back at the station and actually felt homesick, remembering what it was like to come back from a run, comparing stories, debriefing, joking around if everything had turned out okay—and sometimes even if it hadn’t, coping the only way they knew how.
It killed him not to know what was going on with the people he still considered family, with the place he still considered home. He should have been out there with them, working beside his buddies.
Instead he was here, making Zach Morgan’s beautiful wife miserable.
She’d just drifted off when a sharp rap
on the window near her head made her sit up with a start.
13
It was ten after nine when Jenna pulled into the Morgans’ driveway. Her breath caught. The porch lights and all the yard lights were on. And inside the house almost every window was aglow. What was going on?
Surely they hadn’t called the police because she was eight minutes late? But there were no vehicles on the wide drive. She parked the car and ran up the brick walk to the front door.
Clarissa met her in the foyer.
“What’s happened? Is Bill okay?”
“Bill’s fine. He’s in the kitchen. Where on earth have you been? What were all the sirens for? We were worried sick.”
“I told you I was going out.”
Clarissa pressed her lips into a hard line. “We need to talk.” She turned on her heel and strode to the kitchen, the sirens apparently forgotten.
Mindlessly Jenna followed.
Bill was sitting at the head of the table, a cup of coffee in front of him, his head down.
“Sit.” Clarissa indicated a chair on the side of the table that backed up to the wall.
Jenna pulled out the chair and sat, her back straight, hands in her lap, feeling like a schoolgirl who’d been called into the principal’s office.
Clarissa didn’t sit but placed her hands on the high back of the chair across from Jenna and closed her eyes. “If you are going to be living here in our home, as our guest, we need to get some things straight.”
Ah, so that’s what this was about. She stared past her mother-in-law but didn’t say anything. This ought to be good.
“Bill and I have come up with a few rules. We’re not trying to run your life, Jenna, but if you’re going to live with us, we can’t have you just going your merry way doing whatever you please whenever you please.”
Jenna glanced at Bill, who was working hard to avoid her eyes. She knew that when Clarissa said “Bill and I” she meant “I and I alone.”
“First of all, we need to know where you’ll be. We’re not going to give you a curfew, obviously.” She gave a humorless laugh. “But it’s not fair for us not to know your whereabouts. It would worry us sick to have to wonder every night when you’re coming in—or if you’re coming in. And certainly we need to know whether to expect you for dinner. As you know, I have club and guild luncheons several days a month, so we’ll all do lunch on our own.”
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