Light Up The Tree: A Firehouse Three Novel

by Regina Cole

  The disassembly had been fairly textbook, and now he was scrubbing each piece with the specialized cleaner and a small brush. His hands were grungy from handling the parts, and his clothes held similar stains.

  It was cathartic to take something that had once been clogged, dirty, unusable and shine it up, clear the muck, and make it like new again.

  How he wished that life were that easy. That relationships were that easy. Hell, if he’d adopted a dog at Hopeful Paws a few weeks ago, at least he wouldn’t be so damn alone.

  His pickup shift hadn’t ended until almost ten last night. They’d cleaned up the rest of that nightclub fire and then run what should have been the regular crew’s afternoon and evening while the other firefighters were interviewed about what happened.

  Chaz was gone. Straight up gone. Chief wouldn’t utter a word on the subject, and at first they’d assumed the worst.

  Abby had been nearby, but the way she’d described it to Nate, quietly, and out of the chief’s hearing, Chaz hadn’t been injured.

  He’d just disappeared.

  Nate’s blood was still cold every time he thought about his friend. People didn’t just up and vanish into thin air. But the chief had told them in no uncertain terms that they weren’t to discuss it.

  The feds were involved.

  And then, once he’d worried himself sick over his missing friend, he’d found that ball-buster of a text from Allison. He hadn’t seen that coming at all. And he still wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  He wanted to go straight to her and tell her about Deb, but her text had told him in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t see him. He’d tried, even though it was late.

  He’d called her phone. No answer.

  He’d gone to her house. Nobody home.

  He’d even sent her an email. No response.

  So, he waited. And now it was the next morning, and he still wasn’t sure if he’d done all he could.

  He couldn’t waffle for long. Deb could already be making moves on another of Allison’s clients. If Allison didn’t know, she couldn’t stop the bleeding.

  But why had Allison suddenly gotten upset about their being together? That was the thing that had driven him out of his house in the early morning hours, into the cold of his fluorescent-lit garage where the big hulk of a Ford rested with a tarp covering it when Nate wasn’t working.

  It just didn’t make sense. The two of them had come to an accord. And even when she’d put him off the other day, she hadn’t warned him off like that.

  God, he just couldn’t unwrap what was going on. And he likely wouldn’t be able to until he talked to her.

  Which she’d expressly denied.

  Goddamn it.

  With the pieces of the carburetor clean, he wiped down his hands and began the careful process of putting it back together. Through the small window above his workbench, sunlight had begun to stream in.

  How long had he been out there? Who knew. He didn’t care. A news report was coming on the radio now, traffic and weather and general stuff that didn’t penetrate his brain.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he wiped his hands on a clean rag before pulling it free and looking at the screen. A number not in his address book showed on the screen. He answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Nate?”

  Nate cleared his throat. The caller was female, and the voice was slightly familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

  “Yes, this is he.”

  “Hi, Nate, it’s Everly Pitts, from Hopeful Paws.”

  Oh, yeah. Drake’s fiancée. “Hi.”

  “Sorry to call you so early, but I’ve got kind of a situation. You’re scheduled to come in for a volunteer shift this afternoon…”

  He smacked his palm against his forehead. He’d completely forgotten that in the whirlwind of what had been going on with Allison, Deb, and the thing with Chaz yesterday. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  “Do you think—and I hate to ask you this, I really do, but I’m desperate—do you think you could come early? Another one of the firefighters was supposed to come in, but he’s a no-show.”

  “Who was it?” Nate was already putting his tools away.

  “Chaz Fairchild. I’m not sure what’s up, but Drake said there was some big thing on shift yesterday that nobody is allowed to talk about. Just that Chaz couldn’t make it today.”

  Shit. What the hell had happened to Chaz? Nate stopped with his hand on the latch of the toolbox. “Yeah. He can’t make it.”

  He’d been halfway hoping that Chaz would have turned up in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t ever have flaked out in the middle of a shift, but any other explanation was too Goddamn terrifying.

  Nate couldn’t help but remember that last nightmare of a call, nearly seven months ago now. Nate had been on the crew dispatched to help out when that second vehicle had wrecked into the first overturned truck, pinning Chaz in the wreckage. Chaz had been lucky to escape with a fucked-up leg. He very well could have come home in a pine box. Would there be enough of him left this time to put him back together when they found him?

  If they found him?

  “I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”

  “Thanks, Nate.” The relief was clear in Everly’s tone. “I owe you one.”

  The call disconnected and Nate shut off the heater and the lights. Dialing Chaz’s phone, he was totally unsurprised as he clicked through to voicemail immediately. Undaunted, he connected a call to Chief Donaldson as he opened the back door to his house.

  “Donaldson.”

  “It’s me,” Nate said, pulling off his boots and setting them beside the welcome mat. “Any updates on Chaz?”

  “Nothing.” The answer was terse. “I told you to stay out of it for now.”

  “I just got a phone call from Hopeful Paws. Everly’s desperate for help because Chaz is a no-show.”

  “Cowboy, take my advice and let this go.”

  Standing in front of his closet, Nate frowned. “You’re the one who always says we’re a family, chief. I’m not sure what kind of family you’ve got, but I thought relatives were allowed to check on one another.”

  Donaldson gave a weary sigh, the kind that said much more than words ever could. “Son, I’m not at liberty to say. On a federal level. I’m telling you to let this go for now. He’s going to be okay. I hope.”

  Nate’s stomach tensed and his spine went cold, but he nodded. “All right.”

  “Thanks for pitching in for the volunteer shift.”

  “No problem, chief.”

  The cell clattered to the top of the bureau as Nate pulled a clean shirt from the closet.

  Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

  Nate fixed things. It was what he did. And there was a helluva lot in his life that needed fixing that he could do fuck-all about.

  Chaz could be in a world of trouble, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help him.

  “No,” Nate said as he made his way into the bathroom. “There is.”

  He could fill in the volunteer shift for him. And he could sign up for extra shifts at the firehouse to cover his absence until he could come back.

  After all, it wasn’t like Nate was doing any good sitting there and moping over Allison. If he kept his hands busy, maybe the answer to their problems would come to him.

  * * *

  The Hopeful Paws parking lot was filled with trees, and cars, so Nate parked in the vacant lot across the road and hoofed it to the shelter.

  The closer he got, the louder the Christmas music became, along with some chatter from assembled volunteers and customers. It looked like they were doing a pretty good business here. There had obviously been many more trees when they'd started, and now the remains were spaced out to take up the space.

  “Nate!”

  At the sound of his name he turned. At the door of the rescue stood a woman in a fluffy gray fleece. Her toboggan had puffy pompoms hanging down from the ears, and one of them w
as tangled around a blonde braid.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the tree corral.

  “No problem,” he said, mentally searching for her name. He’d met her before.

  “I’m not sure if you remember me,” she let go as they reached the first few fluffy spruce trees that leaned drunkenly against one another. “Charlie?”

  “Of course, Miss Charlie.” He nodded. “What can I do to help?”

  “Well, you can keep Roger from getting crushed.”

  He blinked and she was gone, tearing across the parking lot with those pompoms and braids streaming out behind her. Once he followed her line of sight he hauled ass after her.

  “Thanks,” said the thin, elderly man who’d been doing his best to tie a massive Christmas tree to the roof of an SUV. He’d gotten trapped between the trunk and the vehicle, with zero leverage to free himself. Charlie and Nate lifted the trunk and he wiggled out from underneath it.

  “I haven’t had a volunteer die on me yet, Roger, don’t you be the first,” Charlie admonished with a nervous laugh as Nate yanked the tree into position atop the roof.

  The three of them had the spruce tied down to the SUV’s roof rack in short order, and then Charlie waved off the customers with a smile.

  “Is it usually this exciting?”

  She snorted at Nate's drily worded question. “Thankfully, not always, but there are days…”

  Nate looked toward the corral. Everly was standing at the register, accepting a credit card from a thin woman. “Basically I’m on tree loading duty?”

  “You got it, Tex.”

  He was glad to put his muscles to work for the cause. Hopeful Paws was a nice place, and Everly and Charlie were good people. From time to time, he’d look back through the windows, wondering about that little black and white shepherd pup he’d met a few weeks ago.

  Buffy had been her name, and the little girl was sweet. The idea of letting her sleep at the foot of his bed had popped into his head several times since he’d seen her, but here, right outside the building where he’d met her, the pull was curiously strong.

  “Don’t need a shepherd,” he grunted to himself as he shoved a fir tree over into an empty space. They’d cleared out so many that the lot was looking thin, so he’d taken it upon himself to rearrange the merchandise. “Too high energy.”

  “Only when they’re young, and they’re super trainable. As long as they get in some good exercise they won’t be destructive.”

  He looked up in surprise. Charlie was there, holding a steaming Styrofoam cup out to him with a smile. “It’s cocoa.”

  “Thanks,” he said, pulling off one work glove and accepting the drink. A slow, smooth sip made him realize how cold his lips had gotten. The work had kept his muscles warm, but there was no escaping the chill of the day.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

  “It’s okay, I’m the dumbass that was talking out loud.”

  Charlie laughed at that, and leaned against the fence beside him. “I get it. Once you’ve seen a less-than-model citizen of any breed, it can be hard to adjust your expectations of what they’re like. And it’s super important to find the right dog for your lifestyle.”

  “Hhm.” Nate wasn’t sure what to say, so he’d just grunted.

  “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Nate looked down at the cup in his hands, and then back to Charlie. Ah. This wasn’t a “thank you for volunteering” cup of cocoa. This was a cup of cocoa that came with a price.

  Well, hell.

  “What is?”

  She cleared her throat and looked away. “I had dinner with Allison last night.”

  His heart flipped over in his chest and his adrenalines started pumping, as if she was nearby and all he had to do was run to her and things would be right again. But of course, there was no one there but him, and Charlie, and Roger who'd gone inside to warm up.

  “Oh?” Was all he said.

  “Yeah. She told me some pretty interesting stuff.”

  “I don’t think she’d be very happy about you spilling those particular beans to me.” He took a deep swig of his cocoa. Damn him for a fool. Of course, he wanted to know every word that had fallen from her lips. Every syllable was important, because it might help him bridge the divide between them.

  But breaking her trust was a no-go for him.

  “She thinks you’re about to propose.”

  The concrete fell away from beneath his feet. “What?”

  “Her assistant told her that she saw you in the jewelry store, picking out engagement rings.” Charlie looked down at the toes of her scuffed black leather combat boots. “She said you’d know how she felt about marriage, and that thought was making her pants-pissing terrified, because she knows there’s a good chance she’ll lose you.”

  “But I’m not going to propose.”

  Charlie’s gaze flew to his. “What?”

  Nate shook his head, and the fragile Styrofoam in his palm threatened to collapse under his too-tight grip. “That’s—it’s wrong. I wasn’t—it’s a misunderstanding. Her business rival is trying to screw up her personal life too.” He shoved to standing. “I’ve got to go see her.”

  Charlie frowned. “She told me she was going out of town, to her parents’ place in Austin, and she won’t be back until Christmas Eve.”

  Cocoa sloshed over his palm, thankfully cool enough that it didn’t burn him. But the worry within him had no release, and he wanted to howl with frustration.

  Deb. She’d fucked over Allison’s business, and now she wanted to fuck over their relationship too?

  No. It couldn’t happen.

  “I need to think,” Nate said, and Charlie took the cup from him. Her brown eyes were sad.

  “Take all the time you need.”

  He rounded the building and spied a pile of pallets by the back door. The jumbled pieces of wood gave him something to do, a physical task that would help tone down the adrenaline and clear the cobwebs from his skull.

  His work gloves made rasping noises against the wood as he pulled apart the pile and re-stacked it.

  Allison. He had to find a way to make her listen to him. To show her that above anything else, he knew her. That her feelings had always been of the utmost importance to him, even when it meant denying himself what he wanted. That he’d been moving things along at a snail’s pace simply because he’d known it was what she wanted.

  She should know him better than that. The two of them had been so close for so long. Did she really think he’d up and ask her to get hitched just like that?

  His muscles burned as he lifted the heavy, weathered pallets, stacking them one on top of the other, the physical labor giving his anger an outlet.

  Yeah, he was pissed. He loved her. Fucking loved the hell out of that woman, and she took the word of a person she’d known for less than a year rather than talk it out with him?

  “Fuck,” he spat, shoving the last pallet atop the pile in a crooked, drunken way.

  Heaving, with his hands on his hips, he stared down at the gravel beneath his feet.

  She’d always been decisive. Bullheaded, he thought once in a while. And usually that worked out to her benefit.

  Not this time. She’d made her mind up about him too damn quick this time. But his life was hers for the taking.

  Hell, it had been for years. For so long, in fact, that he didn’t remember what life was like before his planet started revolving around her sun.

  It had to have been back in high school, maybe, when he’d gotten that letter from her. The one he’d answered but never could send her, and when he'd gotten up the courage…

  He yanked off his work gloves as he looked skyward.

  That was it. He could show her that she had always been—and to this day, was—his highest concern.

  Waiting until Christmas Eve just might kill him, though. He’d have to find another way.
r />   18

  Celebrating Christmas with her parents should have been fun, relaxing. Would normally have been, if her heart wasn’t back in Dallas, doing some ridiculous imitation of a still-life piece.

  “Want some more ham, dear?” Her father was seated at the head of the table, his jacket removed, though his tie was still on. It was his only concession to the relaxation of the holiday.

  “No, thank you, but it was delicious.” She let her fork descend to the tabletop.

  Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and her parents were flying down to Florida, as they usually did this time of year. She’d spent the last few Christmas Eves with Nate. Sure, it had been with a group of people more often than not. But he was always there.

  What would happen this year? Since she’d basically told him to get lost?

  “Allison?” Her mother's concerned tone brought her back into the moment. “Are you all right, hon?”

  “Of course,” she said brightly, leaning toward her mother. “Sorry, I was just thinking over a work problem. It’s nothing important.”

  “What is it? Maybe I can help.” Her father wiped his mouth on his napkin, the ring on his left hand shining with the movement.

  Her parents had been married for nearly forty years. Happily, even. They weren’t what anyone could have called nurturing, but they loved each other, and her. Allison knew that without a doubt.

  “How is it, to be married?”

  They looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. Damn it. She had to talk fast.

  “I mean, I was married. But Burt—Burt and I weren’t right for each other. And I let that relationship sour me on the idea of ever getting married again. I mean, I still feel that way. But maybe—I was thinking I should probably examine the idea again. Because maybe I’m not being fair.”

  Her dad, corporate lawyer that he had been before retiring three years ago, stopped and clearly measured his words before speaking.

  “Marriage is a lot like life.” He folded the napkin neatly beside his plate, and looked at her with eyes that were as deep a gray as her own. “There are good parts and bad parts, and sometimes the person you’re walking beside isn’t the best person. But a good marriage makes the good parts of life better, and the bad parts less bad.”