Standing Outside the Fire

by Jillian Neal

  “Hear, hear,” Colt agreed.

  “Where are the babies?” Jamie asked his cousin. Charlie loved kids. That might be the thing to get her to come back to the present with him.

  “We’re getting ready to send Chase back to UN in the fall. Jaxon is starting middle school if you can believe that. Brock’s wife, Hope, has Annabelle up at the house with her cousins, and Avery’s at home trying to get the newest one to sleep. She’ll be down here tomorrow so you can meet them all.”

  “Good. I need to fill them all in on a few of your wilder stunts just so they have something to hold over your head.”

  Colt laughed at that. “I wish you wouldn’t. They already have me wrapped so tight around their fingers I hurt.”

  Jamie was thrilled to see his cousin so happy. He was also jealous, but he’d deal with that later. “All right, I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I do want to meet them. We’re beat tonight anyway.” He didn’t want to be rude, but he needed them to leave. He was the only person who’d ever been able to coax Charlie out of the flashbacks when she had them.

  “Of course.”

  Jessie took Charlie’s hand. The touch seemed to ground her somewhat. “The bedroom is this way. There’s a few more blankets in the closet if you need them. If you can’t find something, just give me a call.”

  “We really do appreciate this so much, Mrs. Camden. I know you weren’t expecting guests. We won’t get in the way.” Charlie almost sounded like herself with that. She appreciated everything. Jamie suspected it was because she knew what things like hospitality were worth and what they cost.

  “Honey, you are never in the way. We’re thrilled you’re here. Relax. It sounds like life owes you a breath of fresh air. We’ve got that in spades.”

  Jamie doubted Colt had elaborated too much on Charlie’s asthma from the smoke inhalation, so it was interesting to him that Mrs. Camden seemed to know right away what she needed. Must be a mom thing.

  Chapter Ten

  Still trying to regulate her heartbeats, Charlie made a third pass through the small house. Checking and checking again. Not that she knew what exactly she was checking for, but she was certain if she’d just checked her house when she was little, she would’ve noticed something that would’ve saved them all.

  She felt terrible for reacting the way she had when they’d walked in. She knew the Camdens wanted the cottage to feel cozy, but fires never felt cozy to her. Their heat never felt soothing to her, either. They smelled like melting synthetic carpet and plastic appliances and disintegrating siding turning to liquid before her eyes. And those smells would never leave her lungs. They smelled like life being turned to ash. She couldn’t let them go. She refused.

  She blinked away the memories as best as she was able. Jamie was staring at her, gauging her, she knew. Charlie joined him at the window. She just needed to be close to him. He’d make her forget for a little while. He always did.

  “Do you want a beer or something? I saw some in the fridge,” she offered hopefully. She was trying to convince him that she was fine, even though she wasn’t. She hated feeling weak and scared. She prayed he wouldn’t want to go to bed already. She just needed him up and talking and being her Jamie for a little while longer.

  “Nah,” he eased closer to her, almost instinctively it seemed. “I had way too much to drink last night. I need to lay off. But I’ll get you one if you want.”

  That explained why his eyes had been bloodshot that morning. She didn’t allow herself to think of why he might’ve gotten drunk the night before. Focusing instead on the back deck, she immediately wished she hadn’t. Everything around them glowed pale blue from the full moon. She’d refused to acknowledge it on their drive.

  That’s the thing about the moon—it’s the same in Oklahoma City, and in Holder County, and even in Pleasant Glen, Nebraska. It changed cyclically. Always showing different faces to the world below, but when it was full, like it was that night, and the air was just right, it always looked like a frozen sun to Charlie, eerily hanging too close to the ground. It showed entirely too much. Things no one would ever want to see. “Will you check the smoke detectors, please?” she begged suddenly and immediately wished she could just get a grip.

  “Hey,” Jamie wrapped her up in his arms, and she was able to breathe in his scent. It replaced the acrid smoky death. Saddle-oil-infused life rushed into weak lungs. “Of course I will. It’s been a long day. But I am right here, and you are safe. I’ve got you. It’s a gas fireplace, baby. No chimney. Safest you can have.”

  She knew that. She knew that he had her, too, but as soon as she lifted her head from his chest the memories yanked her under their riptide again. Something about the stupid moon or maybe it was what Becca had said, talking about their mom, plus the fire or something. “You know they don’t really work,” she insisted. “If your house is on fire, you can’t even hear them. Not really. You can’t hear anything. They melt. I saw them.” She’d seen them by the light of the moon. She clamped her mouth shut so hard her molars ached, but she didn’t care.

  The gentle grip of Jamie’s hand on her chin centered her just a little. “Look at me,” he demanded in a somehow soothing, yet forceful, order. “Right here in my eyes.” She obeyed as best as she could. “That’s it. Deep breath for me.” She could no longer draw deep breaths. She wasn’t in his arms. “I know you hate full moons. If I could, I’d climb up there and turn the thing off for you. I’d do it in a minute, but I can’t do that mostly because I refuse to leave you here. But I will never let anything hurt you. Never. I’ve got you.” He tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her right ear and smiled. “Hey, you know what I was thinking about earlier?”

  Charlie shook her head in his hand. She focused only on the soothing tone of his voice.

  “Remember that time we skipped Sunday School and went to the gas station and got candy instead? But then we got back too late. Church had already started, and we had to sneak you up to the balcony before your daddy realized you weren’t there?”

  He replaced the terrifying memories with one that always made her laugh. “Yes,” she nodded, “you caught a bullfrog and dropped him in the back window of the church and then when it started hopping down the aisle and people started laughing, we ran up the back stairs. I can’t believe we didn’t get caught.”

  “The window wasn’t open but a little bit and they’re stained glass so no one saw me. Plus, I am pretty much the best at what I do.”

  “Louann found a Butterfinger wrapper in the pocket of my dress, but she never told my dad.”

  “Guess we owe her a nice bottle of Crown or something then.”

  Charlie laughed at the very idea of her stepmother drinking. Her father strictly forbade it in his house. The Holders’ penchant for whiskey was yet another thing he disliked about them.

  “Maybe I will have a beer,” Jamie changed his mind. “You want one?” He casually kept her hand in his and guided them into the kitchen. Everything in the cottage was so new and fresh. The hardwoods still smelled like the faint odor of wood stain. Charlie focused on that scent and kept her hand tucked tightly inside Jamie’s.

  “Sure.” She gratefully accepted the beer. She definitely needed a drink. It had been one hell of a day.

  An hour later, the TV was running constant reruns of some sitcom, and Charlie was leaned up against Jamie. God, it would be so easy. So fucking easy to let his hands drift gently over her breasts. So easy to coax her sweet body fully into his lap and make her forget everything that had her tense. So easy to sink his lips to hers and get her drunk on him.

  The fire that had killed her mother was a constant back draft in her life, threatening to erupt again and consume as only a fire can, and he hated that. He could make her forget it all for a nice long time if she’d let him. She was so soft and warm against him. He ached with the comfort.

  She yawned again, and he forced himself to talk, though he swore he would’ve sat on that couch half-holding her for the rest of his
life just to know she was right there beside him always. “We should probably go on to bed. You’re worn out. I’ll grab some blankets for the couch, and brush my teeth, then the bedroom is yours.”

  Another slight complication with the cottage guest house was that it only had one bathroom to go with the one bedroom.

  “I’m sleeping on the couch,” she corrected through another deep yawn.

  Jamie might not know much, but he knew she didn’t really want to sleep in the room with the fireplace in it. “Don’t get stubborn on me now. You are not.”

  “I am too.” God, he loved how she defied him with a naughty smirk. Her disobedience wrapped a tight fist around his cock and squeezed. He’d love nothing more than to turn her over his knee, but that wasn’t who they were.

  “Charlotte Grace Tilson, no you are not.”

  “Oh, full name,” she giggled. “Am I supposed to be scared?” At least she seemed to have come back to the land of the living.

  “Yes.” He joined her laughter.

  “Okay, I’m terrified, but I’m still not taking the bed after you left your whole life and both of your jobs to run away with me just because I didn’t have backbone enough to tell Ed no when he asked. This is my fault, so I get the couch.”

  “It’s not your fault. If you ask me, Ed stepped in and took advantage when your daddy had that heart attack. It’s his fault.”

  “Even if that’s true, I’m still sleeping here.”

  Jamie grunted his annoyance. “Fine, sleep here, and then once you’re out I’ll move you to the bed.”

  “You will not. I’m a very light sleeper, and I know where you’re ticklish.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Obviously.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “Women are so damn stubborn.”

  “It’s part of our genetic makeup,” she informed him.

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “Wait, I have an idea that will make this fair.” Charlie looked far too pleased with whatever she’d just thought of. “I’ll thumb-wrestle you for it. If I win, I get the couch.”

  Jamie ground his teeth. She knew he’d let her win because he was afraid of hurting her hands.

  “How about if we take turns?” he negotiated. “I’ll sleep in the bed tonight since you’re being a brat and then tomorrow night we’ll switch.”

  Her mouth hung open in mock surprise. “I am not a brat.” But then another fit of giggles overtook her, and he had to get out of that room lest he pin her down to that sofa and drink the laughter from her mouth.

  “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

  “Okay, maybe sometimes I am, but I’m not right now. You look exhausted. You drove all day long and had to witness me hanging outside of the church with a dress over my head.

  “It wasn’t a bad view at all,” he informed her.

  She shook her head at him, crawled out from beside him, took two of the Target bags, and disappeared to the bathroom. Charlie wasn’t one of those girls that spent a long time getting ready. That was yet another thing Jamie liked about her. She was naturally gorgeous and rarely even wore makeup. But that night, she stayed in there a long while.

  He threw away the beer bottles and made the couch up for her, complete with two of the pillows from the bed and three blankets. Nebraska got cold at night even in spring. The thought of her being out in the living room shivering made him hate the idea of her sleeping on the couch even more. The next day he was determined to get her to trade places.

  But when she stepped out of the bathroom wearing the pajama shorts Jamie had stupidly picked for her and some kind of oversized T-shirt, all thoughts left his head completely. Hell, he couldn’t even remember his own name. He swore everything he’d ever known flew out of his mind, everything but her.

  Her face was scrubbed clean, and her hair was up in a loose bun in one of the cloth bands she’d gotten when they stopped.

  Innocence personified. That wedding dress had been one thing but this, this was something else entirely. This was perfection. His traitorous feet took two steps toward her before he could order them to stop. God, he wanted to hold her, to devour her.

  She couldn’t be walking around looking like this. As many times as he’d imagined what it would be like if there were more to them, he’d never fathomed this. His imagination wasn’t that good.

  Yet, he couldn’t have this. He didn’t deserve anything that looked so utterly untouched. So clean when he was who he was—either covered in cow shit or grease from the ladder truck that held the other half of him.

  To his shock, she moved closer as well, like they were magnetically linked, impossible to keep apart. And they were. They always had been.

  She brought her thumb back to her mouth and nibbled.

  “What’s wrong?” he managed in a harsh choke.

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s something. Just tell me. I know you don’t want to sleep in—”

  “Maybe I’m sick and tired of being scared,” spilled from her beautiful lips. His mouth clamped shut.

  He nodded and pried his jaw apart. “You lived through hell. It’s okay to be—”

  She cut him off again. “Not of the fire.” She shook her head which seemed to erase whatever she wanted to say next. She took another step closer until she was near enough that he could feel her breath on his chin.

  Refusing to lose sight of her eyes, he lowered his head. And suddenly, mercifully, confusingly, she brought her lush lips to his.

  Half certain he was dreaming, he was too weak to deny himself the flavors of her.

  Chapter Eleven

  She’d done it. She was kissing Jamie. Disbelief stunned the hunger that had driven her to do this very thing. Jamie kissed precisely the way she’d always imagined he would. She may’ve started it, but oh, he was now running the show. He moved her lips rhythmically with his own.

  His hands gripped her hips as he dragged her closer. He guided her hips as well. They moved apart from her thoughts at the insistence of his hands. Everything she’d ever wanted was on the very tip of her tongue.

  She encountered the evidence of his potent, steel-stiff need at his zipper line. And that drove her harder. Being desired was like a drug. Being desired by Jamie Holder was some kind of liquid nirvana she swore she’d sell her soul to have. For a girl who’d spent years certain that she would never be beautiful, this soothed every scar that marred her skin and the vicious ones that crippled her heart—the ones even she couldn’t see.

  She could hide the others. She always had. There had never been a medicine that took away the searing ache, until that moment.

  He lifted his head before he dove back in for more, allowing her a quick breath, enough for his scent to banish the fear to the past where it belonged. But when his hands slid instinctively up from her hips to her waist and then higher, the fear brought reinforcements. They rushed back in with a vengeance.

  She pulled back and gasped for the breath her lungs had willingly given away. She needed that back along with all the reasons why this wasn’t a good idea.

  His mouth was swollen, and a low flame of need flickered in his darkened eyes. He licked his lips like her taste lingered there. “What was that?” His lust-soaked, husky tone almost drove her back into his arms. She wanted more. She wanted to drag him into that bed and beg him to satisfy the heavy ache between her legs. She needed friction and pressure and to be full of him. She needed to be safe under him, against him. She needed to feel.

  She forced herself to remember that he had to have felt the bottom of the scars at her rib cage and his hands were headed to where they were much worse. She couldn’t let him. She just…couldn’t.

  Her nostrils flared as she fought the disappointment that stung her throat. “We should go to bed.” She pointed to the couch with her injured arm. Her occupational therapist had made certain she had full range of motion, but on occasion she swore her arm was still heavy with the weight of it all.

  “What if I d
on’t want to go to bed? Not without you.” The last three words were ashen like his throat couldn’t quite produce them fully.

  She closed her eyes and called herself several horrible names. How could she have used him like that? He was her best friend.

  She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.” She rushed to the couch and laid down facing away from him. A coward once again. But that was okay. Cowards were safe.

  His footsteps were heavy as he paced to the bedroom. She prayed that he didn’t hate her and ordered herself never to act on impulse again. What was she thinking? She’d all but thrown herself into the fire and dragged him with her. So stupid. Safe was better than satisfied anyway.

  Five minutes later, she heard the click of the lamp and the rustle of bed sheets. Her breaths came a little easier. She lay awake for hours listening to his light, rhythmic snores. She couldn’t sleep. Her eyes couldn’t look anywhere but at the cold metal glow of that fireplace in the bands of light from the moon outside the sliding glass doors.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed sleep to come. She was exhausted, but the kiss had awoken some part of her that she didn’t recognize. It was like some other person also existed in her mind. Some kind of untarnished twin, or maybe the girl she would’ve been if everything had been different.

  The girl wanted to be held and tended. She wanted to be desired. To know what all the fuss was about the Holders, maybe. And if Charlie closed her eyes hard enough, she was brave enough to admit that she wanted Jamie’s aggression, his hunger, his filthy words in her ears. She wanted to be one of the women he picked up with such ease at honkytonks, one that he took home and used.

  Tossing the covers off, Charlie glanced around the room. When her eyes had popped back open, the hazy moonlight looked precisely like smoke. Sitting bolt upright, she got to her feet and rushed to the bedroom to check on Jamie. If he was all right, that was all that mattered.

  He was still snoring lightly. She smiled. The moon outside wasn’t the only one out that night, it appeared. He’d kicked the covers off and his ass—and lord what an ass it was—was on full display. She couldn’t imagine what it might feel like to be that free. To have a body that would allow you to not care if someone saw all of it.