Redemption (A Golden Beach Novel Book 5)

by Kim Loraine

  “Fuck, ouch!”

  A soft little gasp came from next to him. “Daddy, that’s a bad word.”

  Looking down at Mitchell, he sighed. “Sorry, little man. You’re right.” Carefully closing the hood, he pulled his phone from his pocket and sucked in a harsh breath when he saw Lena’s name on the screen. Settling Mitchell on the porch with some toy cars, he walked out of earshot of the little boy.

  “Lena?”

  “Hi, Michael.”

  “Shit, baby. It’s been months.” His heart ached as he said the words. He’d missed her so damn much.

  “I know. It was important. We needed time apart.”

  “Are you ready to fix this?”

  She sighed over the line. “I don’t think we can fix anything.”

  His gut clenched. No. This was not what he wanted to hear. “We can. We have to.”

  “Michael, I’m staying here for at least six months.”

  Her words shot ice through his veins. This was exactly what he’d feared. “How can we work on us if you’re not here to do it?” He couldn’t disguise the anger in his voice.

  “That’s just it. I don’t think we should work on us. I think you need to be with your son. Learn how to be with him, how to love him. I’m a distraction.”

  “Would you stop putting words in my goddamn mouth? I’m sick of you using me as an excuse for your fear. If you don’t want to be with me, fucking say it.”

  Her silence on the other end of the line killed him. He wanted to tell her how much he needed her, how all of the shit with Kate was crushing him—a slow weight pressing him into the ground until he eventually wouldn’t be able to breathe.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  All of the air left his lungs at those four words. Leaning against the side of the house, out of Mitchell’s view, he closed his eyes and gasped for breath. Bringing the phone back up to his ear, he let his anger get the better of him.

  “Are you fucking someone else? Is that it? You spread your legs wide for that asshole Rhett? Everyone told me to stay away from you. I should have known better.”

  Her sharp intake of breath had him regretting his words as soon as they left his mouth. “Fuck you, Michael.”

  “I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry. Everything is turning to ash over here without you.”

  She let out a soft sound that made him think maybe she’d forgiven him. “I took a position with Vogue. They need me in New York six months out of the year.”

  His jaw tightened. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

  “I can’t turn this down. This is my dream.”

  Desperation clawed at him. “When do you start?”

  “Officially? September. I’ve been booked for a couple of freelance shoots in the meantime. After that, Thailand, then Bali with Rhett.”

  “Are you coming home at all? To see your mom?” He didn’t dare throw himself in the mix.

  “Yeah, I’ll be back in August. We can . . . finalize things then.”

  His stomach hurt.

  Finalize.

  Letting out a sharp cough, he pushed through the fear in his throat. “Lena, I’m . . . I wish you could understand how I feel about you.”

  “Tell me, Michael. Just tell me.”

  At that moment, Kate’s voice rang loud across the driveway. “Mitchell! It’s time for dinner. Come on!”

  Lena scoffed. “You know what? Never mind. It sounds like you’re doing fine without me.”

  The line went dead and he cursed under his breath until a little hand gripped his.

  “Daddy, Mommy is here. She brought dinner!” The wide grin on Mitchell’s lips made his chest ache. Now that he knew the truth, it was so obvious. Looking at the child he loved fiercely, he was torn. The bright, infectious smile did what it always had, brought joy to the people it was shared with, but for Michael it was tainted. He’d had a lifetime of that same smile on the face of his brother.

  “I brought take out from Spiro’s.” Kate kept her expression open, neutral, but Michael saw the hesitation in her eyes.

  “We were supposed to meet up tomorrow at Cups. You can’t just show up here whenever the fuck you want, Kate.” Fire burned in his gut as he looked at her. He’d loved her once, a long time ago, and maybe Lena was right, maybe there had always been a candle burning in his heart for her. Whatever it had been, there was nothing left but a hollow shell of feeling now.

  She let out a soft laugh, batting her lashes and tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Come on. You have to eat. I don’t see your wife here taking care of you.”

  Her hand slid along his shoulder, sending a sick feeling over him. Shrugging away from her touch, he stared her down. “My wife is not your business. You need to leave. I’ll meet you at Cups tomorrow like we planned. Mitchell and I were going to make pizza tonight.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she pursed her lips and crossed both arms over her chest. “Fine. You know what? This was a bad idea.” Turning her head toward the porch, she called, “Mitchell! Get your stuff, baby. We’re leaving.”

  “But, Mommy, I don’t want to go.”

  Locking eyes with Michael, she continued talking to the little boy. “Daddy doesn’t want us here. Let’s go.”

  Without giving him a chance to interfere, she stalked inside the house, grabbing Mitchell by his arm to keep him close. As Michael followed, he heard the boy’s sobs and anger bloomed in his chest.

  “Get your hands off him, Kate. You’re scaring him.”

  She turned on him, hitching the boy’s backpack over one shoulder. “What are you going to do? You’ve got no legal right to him. I thought maybe we could work things out, maybe you’d forgive me. Instead, you treat me like shit and expect me to just roll over and take it.”

  Mitchell’s big brown eyes shone with tears as he turned his face up to look at Michael. “Daddy.”

  Kate was right. He had no recourse. For all he knew, she might call the cops and say he’d kidnapped the kid. Kneeling, he took the boy’s face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his freckled forehead. Not wanting to scare him, he put on a calm expression. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll see you soon. We’ll go to the beach.”

  “Promise?”

  Nodding, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Promise,” he whispered, fighting the heavy weight of the lie.

  Chapter 21

  The alarm came to life with a harsh blare as the firefighters of Station 31 sat poised to eat their dinner. Sully and Klipper groaned while Donovan tossed his napkin over his plate and shoved his chair back, clearly eager to get in on the action. Michael worked to pump himself up, get energized and in the moment, so he could forget everything else in his life.

  “Engine, Medic,” came over the loudspeaker as they stepped into their boots and pulled their bunker pants over their hips. The minute Klip got behind the wheel of the engine, he revved it to life and switched on the lights.

  As they drove toward the fire, they waited, listening to the radio chatter, learning as much about the fire as possible.

  “Shit, man. Another barn. If it’s not a warehouse, it’s a barn, but they’re getting closer to town. I bet this is our firebug again.” Klipper’s jaw was set as he said exactly what Michael had been thinking. They needed to stop this guy.

  The radio crackled as more information was relayed. “Multiple victims trapped in the structure. Ladder 5 is en route.”

  “Fuck,” Donovan muttered as the engine pulled to a stop in front of the barn. “They’re not going to make it in time.”

  He was right. Flames were visible from the roof, licking up the dry wood exterior and thick plumes of smoke seeped from between the boards. As he circled the building, he caught sight of something that looked like a white flag hang
ing from the loft window. Over his radio, he called for help.

  “Someone’s in the loft. Get that wall opened up and get some water on those flames. Donovan, you’re with me.”

  Pulling his SCBA mask over his head, Michael led the way as they barreled inside the burning barn. Flames crept up the walls close to the entrance, but the rear of the room was untouched, for now. He knew how fast fire could spread. They had to get in and get out. Pointing to the stairs at the back of the building, he and Donovan swept the room, making their way to the loft. By the time they got up to the second level, the fire below had moved along the walls, igniting old bales of hay and rapidly changing the severity of their situation.

  “Sully, where’s that Ladder?” Michael called over the radio.

  Sully’s rough voice filled Michael’s ears. “ETA two minutes, Lieutenant.”

  With a curt nod, he scanned the loft. Two bodies lay in a heap close to the window, a smoldering beam next to them. The person on top had an angry red burn across his bare back and neck, but Michael could see the clear rise and fall of his chest.

  “Donovan, let’s get these two out of here.” Michael moved across the floor with careful steps, willing the wood to hold. When he didn’t get a response from his partner, he turned, worried he’d somehow missed something. “Miller!”

  The man stood, breaths heavy and eyes wild. Shit. Michael should have known better than to pull Donovan into a situation like this with him. He’d been John’s partner on the call that ended his life. “Miller. Pull it together,” he shouted, grasping Donovan’s shoulder and giving him a shake.

  Donovan blinked and nodded. “I’m good. I’m good.” He sprang into action, moving toward the couple while Michael surveyed the window.

  Ladder 5 had arrived, was already in position and at the ready. With floorboards creaking and flames eating the wood under their feet, they carried the unconscious young man and woman to safety. Donovan sighed as he took a seat on the back of the engine and pulled his jacket open.

  “You okay, Miller?” Michael asked, raking a hand through his hair as he poured cool water over his head.

  Donovan wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, man. I . . . I thought I was over this. It was just too much. All I saw was the back of your coat, Oliver written on it, me behind you, flames everywhere. Exactly the fucking same as John.”

  Nodding, Michael took a seat next to him. “You’re getting there, man. You controlled it. Got shit done.”

  “What if I’d had another flashback? Sully got hurt last time that happened.”

  “You didn’t. You worked through it and we saved those two.”

  Donovan looked toward the ambulance and grimaced. “That’s Garrett Donalson’s little brother.”

  The name sounded familiar, but he wasn’t quite sure who Donovan was talking about. “Who?”

  “Angie’s drummer.”

  Recognition dawned on him. Valerie and Lena had been at Angie’s band’s show the night of the kitchen fire at The Golden Beach Bar and Grill.

  “He was breathing when we got to him.”

  “Yeah. I’ve got to go check on him.”

  Clapping a hand on Donovan’s shoulder, Michael nodded. “You did good, Miller.”

  “Thanks.”

  As Michael watched Donovan head toward the ambulance, he thought of the night he’d seen Lena at the Bar and Grill. That had been the moment he knew he wanted to marry her. Seeing her in potential danger had torn him up, making him all too aware of his desire to never let her go. Staring down at his wedding band, he twisted the ring on his finger. He loved her. He knew it beyond the shadow of a doubt. But now, he feared it was too little, too late.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Lena?” Valerie asked, her face showing concern over the small screen on Lena’s phone.

  “It’s done, the papers are on the way to him. I’ve got to let him go for both of us.”

  “But divorce is so . . . final.”

  Huffing out a breath, she unwrapped a stick of butter and began cutting it into the mixture of flour, sugar, and salt. “Don’t you think I know that? He won’t give up until I make a move to end things permanently. He’s stubborn.”

  “Maybe that’s because he doesn’t want to give up on you.”

  “He replaced me. He might not realize it, but he did. It might be different if he loved me . . .”

  “He does. I’ve seen that look on a man’s face before. He’s crushed. If he didn’t love you, I doubt he’d be taking this so hard.”

  Drizzling water over the lumpy combination of ingredients on her counter, Lena sighed and started kneading until a ball of dough formed.

  “Are you baking?” Valerie’s voice sounded suspicious.

  “Maybe.”

  “I can see you, remember? Oh, you’re making pie. You’re really upset about this.”

  Tears sprung to her eyes as she tried to focus on rolling out the piecrust. “Shut up. Can’t I just make a freaking pie?”

  “No.”

  As she laid the crust in the beautiful stone pie plate she’d had Valerie send from home, she fought off the urge to sob. “Fine. I’m upset. I love him and he broke my damn heart. I never should have married him in the first place. That’s what I get for letting my need to be impulsive rule my decisions. I’m leaving him before he leaves me. Before I end up falling even deeper for him, letting him convince me we could start a family, and having it all taken away . . . just like my mom.”

  “Oh, Lena.” Valerie’s eyes, always so expressive, shined with tears. “You don’t—”

  “Just stop, okay? I need you to be supportive of my decision. Don’t try and talk me out of it.”

  Valerie took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. So, what kind of pie are you making?”

  The end of a shift was usually the best part of Michael’s day. At least, it had been when he’d had Lena to go home to. Now, as he walked to his waiting car he felt nothing but numbness gripping his chest. The door creaked as he opened it, making anger ignite in his body. The damn door. He’d fixed it over and over, but the fucking thing continued to creak like the old bastard it was. He and John had joked about that very thing, laughing that the car was plotting their downfall, creaking on purpose so they’d get caught sneaking out at night to drive it.

  John.

  Fucking John.

  The spark of rage burning in his heart grew as he thought of his brother. Nothing could have prepared him for this year in his life. Not losing Kate, not John’s death. Until recently, he’d never thought his brother would have done anything to hurt him. They’d been thick as thieves, doing everything together even as adults.

  Shaking his head, he tossed the envelope Sheriff Franklin had served him on the passenger seat and turned the key. The engine started with a satisfying purr and before he knew it, he was headed in a direction he hadn’t gone in a very long time.

  The cemetery was quiet, only the soft tittering of birds filling the air with sound. Michael sucked in a harsh breath, trying to quell the overwhelming emotions warring for control in his heart. John’s headstone stood out amongst the older, less cared for markers of the people buried around him. His was well-kept, the newness still apparent. Tensing, he glared at the name and inscription, John Mitchell Oliver, beloved son, loyal brother, hero.

  “Damn you. You weren’t loyal, you bastard,” he muttered, staring down at the piece of stone before him. “Why would you do that? You had everything. You had Gracie. Why would you take everything I wanted? You always did that. You son-of-a-bitch.” His voice rose with every word. “I want to fucking hate you. I want to kick the shit out of you, but you went and died a God damn hero. Were you ever going to tell me? Part of me thinks you weren’t really going to leave town. You probably just made Kate think you’d marry her.
”

  Pacing in front of the gravesite, he raked a hand through his hair as he let it all out. Everything he’d been holding on to burst from him like a dam breaking, the words spilling from him getting louder until he was all but screaming at his brother’s grave.

  “I lost everything because of you! My wife, my chance for a family, my fucking sanity. Do you know how fucked up this has made me? When Kate left me I closed my heart off, swore I’d never love anyone again. Then you died on me . . . because of me. I’m the reason you’re dead. I’d finally started moving on. I got married. Did you know that? I married the most amazing woman. We were happy.” His voice dropped to a low, icy tone. “But then I find out you couldn’t keep your dick in your fucking pants. And the worst part was, I couldn’t even see it. He looks just like you. Down to the freckles on his face!”

  His heart beat erratically as his resentment grew. “You know who told me? Gracie. The woman who loved you more than anything. She found the picture.”

  Legs shaking, he sat on the grass, leaning against the headstone behind him. “I wish she didn’t know. I wish she could just keep on remembering you as a good man who’d loved her. You deserve to be hated by me. That’s the really shitty thing. Any anger I have, you earned. But you’re still my best friend. My brother. And maybe that’s why this is so much more painful. I can’t hate you. But I can be angry, and I can be damn disappointed.”

  Crossing his arms over his knees, he rested his head on his forearms. As the adrenaline faded and his throat burned with the aching sobs he’d been holding back, he let the tears come. All the hurt, the guilt, the betrayal poured out until he had nothing left. Sighing, he lifted his face and stared at the clouds. “He’s a great kid, Johnny. Really. I wish you could know him. He’s funny, and so fucking smart. He reprogrammed all of my contacts in my phone to have different ringtones. He’s got a thing for hair bands. Every time someone calls, it sounds like I’m at a strip club.”