Redemption (A Golden Beach Novel Book 5)

by Kim Loraine

  He sat there until the sun was high in the sky and his stomach ached with hunger. Standing, he groaned as his stiff muscles pulled and the blood rushed back to his unused limbs. Resting a palm on top of John’s headstone, he said a silent prayer and let go of his anger.

  Days later, Michael and Donovan stood outside the Burn unit at Golden Beach Memorial, after spending some time with Jamie Donalson. The kid had been a hero—realizing he and his girlfriend were trapped in that loft, he’d taken off his shirt, hung it from the window, and used his body as a shield when a rotted beam came crashing down on them.

  “That kid has balls the size of Texas,” Donovan observed, as they walked down the hall toward the exit.

  “Damn right. He’s got firefighter written all over him.”

  They walked in silence, Michael waiting for Donovan to ask about the divorce papers Lena had served him only a day earlier. Surely, she’d told Valerie what was going on. When they got into Donovan’s jeep and he still hadn’t said anything, Michael broke.

  “Lena wants a divorce.”

  Taking a deep breath, Donovan nodded. “I heard.”

  “I don’t want to let her go.”

  His friend started the car and pulled into traffic, not saying anything. As they drove, Michael stared down at his shoes, trying desperately to avoid the pity he knew he’d see in Donovan’s eyes.

  Donovan surprised him by saying, “Valerie won’t set a date for our wedding.”

  “Shit, really?” When Donovan pulled into the parking lot at the station, Michael took in a heavy breath. “She say why?”

  Shrugging, Donovan killed the engine and sat looking straight ahead. “I fucked it up between us once before. I don’t blame her for not being sure.” Raking a hand through his hair, he sighed. “I thought . . . you know . . . you get the girl, ask her to marry you, and then everything else falls into place. I never thought we’d still be on the fence.”

  “I fucking married my girl, now it’s all gone. The truth is, you can never stop working to deserve her. The moment you do, is the moment you lose her.” Michael wanted to stop the words from pouring out of him, but he couldn’t staunch the flow. “One day, you’ll look back and realize what a fucking idiot you were if you let her slip through your fingers because you stayed quiet.”

  “Not talking about me anymore, are we?”

  Gritting his teeth, Michael focused on the dash. His life was a cluster fuck. How could he be offering any kind of advice? With a curt nod of his head, he opened the door and stepped out into the warm summer air. Palming his keys, he walked to his waiting car and leaned against the side. He couldn’t go home, couldn’t face the emptiness.

  Running his hand over his face, he pushed himself away from the Impala, pulled a baseball cap out of the open window, and stalked down the sidewalk. He needed a drink, something to numb the pain. Heart pounding in his ears, he kept his gaze trained on the cement in front of him, narrowly missing a kid on a bicycle who was trying to pass him.

  “Watch out!” the kid shouted as he swerved.

  “Stay off the fucking sidewalk!”

  It was busy on Front Street this time of evening. People stopped and stared, some he knew, others he didn’t. Looking down at his GBFD T-shirt, he let out a groan of frustration. Shit. He was basically advertising that the Golden Beach firefighters were a bunch of assholes. Turning on his heel, he headed back to the station, and straight into Chief Roman’s office.

  The older man looked up from his computer as soon as the door shut. “Oliver, you’re not on shift today.”

  “Chief, I need some overtime. Can you put me in to help out at any station that needs me?”

  Chief Roman’s dark gaze landed on him, making Michael feel as though he’d been caught in a lie. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I just need to work.”

  The man missed nothing. He shook his head and stood. “Listen, Michael. If there’s something going on, you’d better be talking to someone. Donovan kept quiet and Sullivan got hurt. You need to talk, let me know.”

  Shaking his head, Michael sat down in the chair across from the Chief’s desk. “Truth? I need a distraction from the quiet. I’ve got personal shit going on, but I’m solid. I can either drown my sorrows in work or alcohol. Give me this. Give me something to do so I don’t end up where I was after John died.”

  His boss lowered himself back into his chair, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. “I’ll see what I can do. But if I get even one twitchy look from you, I’ll be putting you on leave so fast you won’t know what hit you. Am I clear?”

  “Clear.”

  “Fine. I’ll update you as soon as I’ve got you approved.”

  Thanking him, Michael headed back to his car, hoping to push away the heaviness in his chest at the thought of busying himself with extra shifts and maybe taking on another project at his house. He needed to sharpen his focus, keep thoughts of John and Kate away, keep the pangs of longing for Lena at bay.

  An hour later, as he sat on his front porch, beer in hand, his phone buzzed with a text from Chief Roman.

  Got you on at Station 5 B-shift tomorrow 8 AM.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, he downed the rest of his drink and headed inside, hoping to make it through the night without nightmares of Kate leaving him for John, and memories of Lena’s silky hair sliding over his skin.

  He woke with a cold sweat covering his skin, an orgasm hovering just on the edge of release, and an empty feeling in his chest. He was rock hard and aching as the dream of Lena faded. Where was she right now? What was she doing? He wanted to know, but didn’t at the same time. Against his better judgment, he pulled his phone off the charger and opened his social media account. Typing in her name, he had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sight of her picture. It was them at their wedding party. She still had him listed as her husband, still wore the happy facade he wished was true.

  Looking through her pictures didn’t help his state of mind, or his physical reaction to her. Photos of little things that wouldn’t matter to anyone but them made his breath hitch. She’d spent so much of their time behind her camera, snapping shots of them together, of candid moments when he didn’t know she was there. Damn. This had been a bad idea.

  Tossing his phone on the bed, he shoved the blankets aside and stood, raking a hand through his hair and working to control his rising panic. He’d let her go. This was his mess to clean up, but he had no clue how. Until he had a solution, a way to win her back, he would do the only thing he could to keep his head above water. Work.

  Stalking through his quiet, empty house, he headed for the garage and his tools. Hefting a sledgehammer across one shoulder, he made his way to the back bedroom, the one which stood empty and unused. With a harsh shout, he swung the hammer as hard as he could. The wall gave with a satisfying crack and puff of plaster. This would get him through the days when he wasn’t on shift. This would distract him from the grip of depression and let him harness the anger building in his chest. If he didn’t get it out somehow, he’d fall back to the shell of a man he’d been years ago. He didn’t intend to go back.

  Chapter 22

  Lena toyed with the glittering band that graced the third finger of her left-hand. By now, Michael would have the papers. He’d have to have them. Taking off the ring, she opened a drawer in the kitchen and shoved it inside. She stared hard at her phone, waiting for his name to flash across her screen.

  A call.

  A text.

  Something.

  A bead of sweat trickled down her back, between her shoulder blades. She pulled her thick hair back and twisted the length into a topknot before padding across the floor of her sparsely furnished apartment. Hefting the heavy window, she let the slight breeze slide across her skin and took in the sounds of the city.

  New York.
<
br />   Her professional career had finally taken off in a direction she’d never expected. No more weddings, drooling toddlers, or matchy-matchy families. She was a serious photographer, on her way to being the next Annie Liebowitz. But everything sat veiled behind the ache of a broken heart.

  A pang of regret sliced through her as her phone rang and Michael’s photo appeared on the screen.

  “Michael.” She hated how her voice caught on his name.

  “You couldn’t even call to give me some warning, Lena?” The venom in his tone made her wince.

  She’d thought about calling, even considered delivering the papers herself, but she couldn’t face him. Not after their last conversation.

  “We’ve already said everything. Don’t you think?”

  He sighed and she could almost picture him, leaning against the back of his beloved Impala, maybe toying with the paper label on a beer bottle.

  “This doesn’t work. We’re too different.” She’d told herself that so many times it sounded rehearsed.

  “Bullshit. That’s what makes us so good.”

  Her mind drifted to the feel of his stubble under her fingers, the smell of his skin, even the sounds he made in his sleep. There had been so many good things.

  “Lena? Are you there?” His deep, gravelly voice broke through her memories.

  “I’m here. Just sign the papers, please?” She grimaced at her pleading tone.

  “Not until we talk this through, face to face.”

  She didn’t want to see him. Not when she knew the depth of his charms. He’d use his mouth and hands to distract her from the truth of their relationship. They wanted different things. He had what he wanted in his son and Kate.

  “I’m not coming back. I just got settled here.”

  She heard him clear his throat and shuffle the phone. “What do you mean, not coming back? You said this was only for six months out of the year. What about your mom? Valerie? What about . . . everything you have here?”

  “Val knows where I am. She’s already working on coming up for a visit. And my mom is fine. She’s hoping to go visit her sister in Japan this September.” She didn’t answer his last question, hearing the unspoken What about me?

  “Christ almighty, Lena. You can’t just send me papers and expect me to roll over and accept them.”

  Shaking her head, she paced back and forth as she tried to push down her rising frustration. “I don’t know what else is left. When Kate came crawling out of the woodwork, you made it clear what you wanted. Her, Mitchell, a family.”

  “She’s not what I want!”

  Lena gritted her teeth and fought off the wave of rage at his comment. “How can I compete with what she’s given you? She’s the mother of your child. You loved her. That’s what you want. I can’t stand in the way of you getting everything you’d planned for.”

  “God dammit, why are you putting words into my mouth? I never said that. I wanted you. Yeah, I wanted you to be home more, to have a family with you. Is that so bad? We were lucky if we saw each other for a week out of each month.” He let out a heavy sigh and for a moment, she thought he was going to leave it at that. “I’m not signing the papers until you come back. Look me in the eyes and tell me there’s nothing left between us.”

  The line clicked as he hung up. The only sound in the room, a jarring clatter as her phone fell to the kitchen counter. She let herself give in to the shaking of her hands.

  The soft click of heels on the hardwood brought her gaze to a tall stranger standing in the entryway. “Yikes. You look like hell.” She crossed the room and headed toward the kitchen. “God, why is it like five thousand degrees in here?”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Lena stared at the woman in her apartment. She looked like a model, long and lean, with flawless mocha skin, perfectly styled hair, and expertly applied makeup.

  The woman grinned and hit a few buttons on the thermostat. Seconds later, a cool breeze spread throughout the room. “Chanel Rowlins. I’m your new assistant.” Lena sighed and smiled as she took Chanel’s offered hand. She felt like she was cheating on Hallie by welcoming a new person into her space.

  “How’d you get into my house?”

  The woman held up a key. “It’s your spare.”

  “Uh, can I have it?”

  Shaking her head, Chanel pocketed the key. “Nope. I’ll need to be able to get in. We’re going to be busy, Lena. You’ve never worked for a company like Vogue before, have you?” She started brewing a pot of coffee. “We’ll be doing spreads for all of the top designers of the year, special interest pieces, and you’ll be approving the work of our intern photographers. You need to be at the office by seven-thirty tomorrow so I can show you around. Then they’ve got you scheduled for a few freelance shoots.”

  “I don’t officially start until September.” Lena fought the scowl she could feel furrowing her eyebrows.

  “I’ve got to get you acclimated before then. That only gives me four weeks.” Chanel pushed a mug of heavily creamed coffee in her direction. “So, who had you shaking with rage when I came in? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

  Lena stared down into the steaming liquid and pondered. How should she answer this? She barely knew the woman. “Neither.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

  Chanel cocked her hip and smirked as she added sugar to her own coffee. “Yeah, okay. Play it that way if you want. Just let me know which calls I need to send to voicemail in the future.”

  “I need more light,” Lena called over her shoulder. Although she was only working for Vogue on a freelance basis for the summer, they’d kept her busy and Chanel was surprisingly fun to work with.

  “Yeah, can’t help you with that. Sun’s going down. How about a different lens?”

  Chanel handed her a lens designed to handle low light and Lena quickly changed hardware.

  “Great, give me ten more minutes. I’ve got almost everything I need.”

  The models rolled their eyes and shrugged back into their coats and hats. It was still hot in New York, even though fall was creeping in, and they all wanted to be done for the day.

  “Sorry, ladies. I promise, we’ll be out of here in no time. Think, cold.”

  Chanel sidled up next to her while the camera shutter clicked furiously. “Why didn’t Desdemona want you to shoot indoors again?”

  “She wanted the collection to be classic contemporary meets iconic New York. In her mind, the only place we could achieve that was the middle of Central Park.”

  “In the freaking middle of August? She’s crazy.” Chanel gestured to the pouting, slouching models. “They’re wearing leather and fur. They must be miserable.”

  The moment the words had left her mouth, one of the models fainted dead away and all work stopped on the shoot.

  “Shit.” Lena handed Chanel the camera and rushed to the girl’s side. “Juno, can you hear me?”

  Juno’s eyes fluttered open and she nodded. “Sorry. It’s just so hot. I couldn’t stand anymore.” Her cheeks were flushed and her breaths came in rapid gasps.

  “Call an ambulance. She needs to go to the hospital.”

  Juno shook her head and tried to stand. She immediately fell back to the ground, her face paling and body shivering. “I feel sick.”

  “It might be heat stroke. I’ve seen it a few times back home. Just stay still, we’ll get you some water.” Lena stared down at the girl. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. “And take that damn coat off.” She helped Juno peel the fur-lined leather jacket off and folded it up to use as a pillow.

  “Desdemona is going to be so pissed they’re using her coat like that,” one of the other models whispered to her friends.

  Lena snapped as the words floated to her ears. “I don’t give a fuck what Desdemona thinks right now. Eve
ryone needs to take off the coats and hats. We’re done here.”

  The sound of sirens grew closer, and Lena sighed in relief when she saw the EMT’s rushing toward them. Her heart squeezed when two firemen followed behind. As she watched them get Juno onto a stretcher, she bit back a wave of longing for Michael. She remembered how his GBFD shirt stretched over his broad, muscular shoulders. How he’d come home from a twenty-four-hour shift with dark circles under his gorgeous eyes, a shadow of beard on his jaw, and he’d still kiss her breathless.

  “Ma’am?” She was jolted back to the real world by the EMT’s voice. “We’re taking her to Mt. Sinai.”

  Dazed, she nodded and thanked him. He offered her a concerned look. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Adrenaline rush.” She waved off his question and headed over to the other models. “I’ll let Desdemona know. I think I got everything I need. Go cool off.”

  As they returned the wardrobe to the racks, Lena and Chanel set about packing up her gear. She couldn’t shake the memory of Michael after seeing the firefighters and it left an ache in her chest she didn’t want to feel.

  “You’re being weird,” Chanel said as she pulled out her phone and started composing a text.

  “We almost killed a model.”

  “True. But that didn’t seem to bother you as much as those firefighters did. Man in uniform, huh? I’m a sucker for a cowboy, myself.”

  Against her will, Lena’s cheeks flamed. “It’s been a while.”

  “We can remedy that. Let’s go out for the evening. I think I can get us into Spark tonight, since you’ve got a thing for firemen.”

  Lena laughed. Spark was a new club that featured hot male staff dressed as sexy firefighters. It was exactly what she did not need. “No thanks. I’m not feeling great either. I think I need a cold bath and some ice water.”