by Ranae Rose
“I just thought that since it’s your birthday you might…” Madison stood at the edge of the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest so tightly it was a miracle she could breathe.
“I’ll be back, probably before midnight.”
The way Madison nodded made it look like she was trying to work a cramp out of her neck.
“Is something wrong?” Peyton asked. You know, besides the fact that my boyfriend might as well be the devil himself, as far as you’re concerned.
Madison’s mouth turned down at the corners. “It’s just that you’re only thirty, and I can’t help but wonder how many birthdays you’ll have left if you keep this up.”
Peyton’s overly-light heart, buoyed by the day’s progress, sank immediately. Madison talked about Peyton’s dates with Elijah like illicit drug deals or mob hits, like she was heading out the door to play Russian roulette with some criminal enterprise.
In reality, she was heading out to enjoy a seafood dinner, a couple glasses of wine and an hour or so in bed with the gentlest man she knew. It would’ve been laughable if Madison weren’t her sister – if it wasn’t absolutely heartbreaking.
“You’ll be putting up with me until I’m an old lady.” Peyton mustered a smile and tried to keep her voice soft. “And I’ll be fine tonight, I promise.”
Madison shrank in on herself, crossing her arms even more tightly over her ribs.
Peyton moved forward on an instinctual impulse, opening her arms.
Madison turned away, refusing the embrace.
Peyton froze, feeling like she’d been slapped.
Why was she surprised? Because Madison had been a little warmer toward her on her birthday?
Burying a tooth in her lower lip, she sighed. “Madison, I hate this so much. Can we please stop treating each other like this? I want things to be good again.”
Madison’s voice was sharp. “Things aren’t like they were before. Every time I look at you, I worry about what you’re in for, dating that asshole cop. And then I remember that the road you’re heading down is one you chose – it’s all your own dumb fault. You know better, and you’re doing this anyway.”
Peyton would’ve recoiled, except she saw the tremor in her sister’s lower lip.
“I know it worries you. I’m sorry – no, really.” She pressed on even after Madison sighed and rolled her eyes. “The only reason I’m still with Elijah despite everything is because I love him. And I hope – desperately – that someday you’ll be able to see him for who he really is.”
“Likewise.” Madison narrowed her eyes.
Why did telling Madison that she loved Elijah feel so inconsequential? Love was a small and simple word, and what she felt for him was neither of those things. She just didn’t know how to translate the feeling – her sincerity – into speech.
No wonder Madison acted like she hadn’t even said it.
Madison’s eyes were watery, and she was holding herself like she might fall apart if she didn’t.
“I’m really sorry about the strain this has put on us.” God, she wanted so desperately for that strain to end. When would her relationship with Elijah cease to be the elephant in every room at home?
Would it ever?
It was hard not to give in to despair when she met her sister’s eyes.
“If I’ve seemed cold lately,” Madison said, “it’s only because I’m waiting for the other shoe to fall – to lose you. It might not happen anytime soon, but it will eventually. I can’t not think about that.”
Peyton’s heart sank so low that her chest felt concave, as if her bones had collapsed into the empty space left in her heart’s wake.
“It’s not like I thought you, Jace and I would live happily ever after together for the rest of our lives,” Madison said. “I’d be happy for you finding someone, under normal circumstances.”
Peyton glanced at the door. She was going to be late for her date with Elijah. Still, she couldn’t come up with a way to leave without feeling like a gigantic ass.
A combination of nervousness and longing filled her when she thought about Joseph Weitkamp’s upcoming criminal trial. When the truth finally came out in court and he was found guilty of the crimes he’d been charged with, would Madison finally see that Elijah wasn’t dangerous?
She could’ve slapped each and every member of the Weitcamp family, including the councilman. Especially the councilman. The thought of anyone deliberately trying to ruin an honest person’s life for the sake of their own selfish, twisted gain set her teeth on edge.
And maybe – just maybe – if it hadn’t been for their bullshit, Madison wouldn’t have resented Peyton and Elijah’s relationship so much.
“I’ll text you if I’m going to be any later than midnight.” Peyton’s heels clicked beneath the weight of her heavy heart as she turned for the door.
* * * * *
Peyton looked beautiful. Green dress, high heels, perfect hair. Elijah took her to a new place that’d just opened up a couple blocks from Moreno’s. It was small but classy, with vases of white roses in the center of each table, flanked by candles that supplemented the low lighting.
Romantic, just like the restaurant review sites had promised. He should’ve felt relieved, but there was a shadow in Peyton’s eyes that kept him from totally relaxing.
It was nothing new, sadly. They enjoyed themselves together, but sometimes he caught sight of the tension in her expression when she was looking at no one in particular.
He knew her sister’s disapproval was a constant stressor, just like the clusterfuck at work was to him. They both went through the long, hot summer days with invisible IV lines anchored in their minds, dosing them with steady worry that made it hard to let go.
Hell, the only time he really let go – actually forgot about it all – was when they were in bed together.
“I did a little detective work,” he said, “and the filet here is supposed to be top notch.”
He ignored the ridiculous pang of irony that struck him whenever he used the word ‘detective’. Yeah, researching dining options online was as close to detective as he was likely to get any time in the near future. Possibly ever.
“Filet mignon?” Peyton arched a brow. “I didn’t realize we were going all out tonight.”
“Of course we are, birthday girl. I had them put a bottle of champagne on ice for us.”
She laughed, like he was teasing her.
He wasn’t. He’d made the past weeks rough for her; the least he could do was treat her birthday like the special occasion it was.
When a server approached their table and presented the champagne, Peyton shot Elijah a look of surprise, then lit up like a Christmas tree.
He grinned.
They both ordered the filet, and he chose a couple savory appetizers so they’d have something to enjoy with the champagne.
“I feel spoiled,” she said when the table was crowded with steamed shrimp and elaborate little slices of crostini.
“Good.”
“Did you have to make a reservation?”
He nodded. It was the middle of tourist season and the surrounding tables were filled already, mostly with couples.
“You put a lot of thought into this. Thank you.” She looked happy, and that pleased him more than champagne and filet mignon ever could.
“I know you’ve got work in the morning,” he said, “but I hope I can convince you to stay out late.”
That shadow flickered across her face again for just a second. “Do you have something in particular planned after this?”
He reached across the small table to touch the hand she had resting on its surface. “I was thinking we could take a long walk on the beach. The moon is just shy of being full.”
He didn’t add that they’d head to his place afterward. That was a given. The beach walk would be a sort of foreplay – a chance to let desire build until it hurt not to have her home, in his bed.
The wait would be worthwhile, because h
e’d only have her in his arms for an hour or so before she left. He was never satisfied with spending the night alone when what he really wanted was to spend it with her.
* * * * *
Elijah had diligently avoided Peyton’s house since the encounter that had upset Madison. Today was the first time he’d so much as driven down her street since then.
A vague sense of guilt rode with him as he turned into her neighborhood, driving his personal car on his way home from another long day spent pushing pencils behind an old desk at the station.
Meanwhile, Jackson had recently been part of an arrest that had resulted in the confiscation of a dozen kilos of cocaine. Having to sit on his ass at the station while shit like that went down was torture.
There was no telling when internal affairs would wrap up their investigation, or when the city councilman would finally shut his mouth, if ever. There was little doubt that if his son Joseph was found guilty in court, he’d appeal the charges.
Elijah longed for the trial and dreaded it at the same time. If the jury found Joseph guilty – which would be the only reasonable outcome – at least Elijah would have the court backing him up. He could only hope that the local publicity would die down then.
Peyton’s house came into view, and he couldn’t help but let his gaze drift in its direction. He was on his way to the wholesale store a few blocks away, and although there were several streets he could’ve taken to get there, hers was slightly quicker.
Or maybe it wasn’t. Either way, as he approached her house, he was hit with a sense of mingled pleasure and regret. Even the sight of the home he’d never been inside of reminded him of her, and he wished for the thousandth time that he wasn’t unwelcome there.
He pushed the thought from his mind and focused instead on that evening. The wholesale club had a deal going on mattresses, and he was going to buy a membership just so he could take advantage. The mattress he had was aging – the time he and Peyton spent in it had made that painfully clear. The center of it sank when they lay in the middle, the sides rising up on either side of them.
Just the thought of breaking in a new one with her made him grin. With any luck, the store’s delivery crew would be able to get it to his place before she stopped by.
He sped up just a little, casting a last sideways glance at her place. She was still at work, as was evidenced by the empty parking space by the curb. He hardly noticed, though, because something else snared his attention: a distinct shimmer in the air above the house, and a pale, ghostly tendril of smoke curling from beneath the roof.
His heart lurched in his chest, and he slammed on the brakes by instinct. It was a damn good thing nobody was following behind him, or he probably would’ve caused an accident.
“Jesus.” He threw the car into park and tried to jump out, only to be snapped back into place by his seatbelt.
“Damn.” Unbuckling, he left his car parked in the street and sprinted toward the burning house.
He was 99% sure Peyton wasn’t inside, but what about her nephew and sister?
His heart pounded like a jackhammer, and although he reached the front door within seconds, it felt like it’d taken forever.
“Madison? Jace?”
No answer. He pulled his radio from the shoulder of his uniform and contacted dispatch, giving them the address as quickly as possible.
“Anyone inside?” He pressed the back of his hand against the doorknob. It was a little warm, but not hot enough to burn. Gripping it in earnest, he twisted.
It didn’t budge.
Shit. An awful sense of dread was blooming in his chest, threatening to displace his racing heart. He’d been on the scene of countless emergencies before, including house fires. But this was different. Peyton’s family might be inside, and he knew damn well that if anything happened to them, it’d be like Peyton’s own heart had been burnt to ashes.
“Jace!” He pounded on the door one last time. The kid’s face was crystal clear in his mind’s eye, and he could see him at school, laughing at Officer Rex’s cheesy jokes along with all the other kids.
No answer. He pulled out and extended his baton.
The fire department would have a better tool, but he couldn’t wait for them, not even for a second. Raising the baton, he swung it straight through a window several feet to the right of the front door.
CHAPTER 26
Glass rained on Elijah’s boots, tinkling like wind chimes as a wave of heat swept over him, hotter than the humid July air. He kept swinging, until no large pieces of the window panes remained. Ignoring the small bits of glass left in the frame, he dropped the baton, grabbed the sill and hoisted himself through the opening and into the house.
The smell hit him before he hit the kitchen tile: a chemical cocktail of burning paint, furnishings and God knew what else. His eyes watered in defense as he took in his surroundings, searching for some sign of occupancy.
There was no fire in the kitchen, only smoke. He army-crawled across the linoleum, toward the rest of the house. He didn’t know the layout, but it was a small place and he was able to make out a living room to his left.
Sweat poured down his forehead and he squinted against it as much as he did the smoke. Keeping his head down, he drew a deep breath and yelled.
“Is anyone here?” Air rushed into his lungs, hot and smoky, and he coughed. “I’m in the living room! Heading toward the hallway.”
He could make out the hall now, and he moved toward it as quickly as he could. Presumably, there were bedrooms and at least one bathroom – several rooms potentially harboring people. The fire was obviously coming from one of those rooms, toward the back of the house. As he inched forward, the smoke became thick and blinding, and the heat fierce.
He barely saw the kid before he crawled into a small foot. When he opened his mouth to speak, the smoke choked him.
His heart threatened to pound right out of his chest and straight through the floor. If he could barely breathe, how could Jace? There was no telling how long he’d been lying there.
Elijah rose into a crouch and scooped Jace up. The kid squirmed in his arms and coughed.
Elijah swore with relief as sweat dripped from his forehead and onto Jace’s t-shirt.
“Mom!” Jace’s voice was rough, and he broke into a hacking cough.
His mother was indeed there, lying curled on the carpet just in front of Elijah. It was hard to tell whether Jace’s continued squirming was panic or protest as Elijah turned on his heel and ran in the direction he’d come.
He hurried to the front door, fumbled with the lock and flung it open. Smoke billowed out, and he deposited Jace on the grass several yards from the house.
“Is anyone inside besides your mom?” He was desperate to get back in and get Madison – and anyone else who might be inside – out.
It was torture to wait while Jace fought through a coughing fit.
Finally, he shook his head.
“You’re sure – it’s just your mom?”
Jace nodded.
Elijah ran back to the house, entering through the front door this time. Breathing too deeply, he ended up with a lungful of smoke that nearly crippled him. Holding his breath, he hurried into the hall, where he’d left Madison.
She was close to Peyton’s size – not hard for him to lift, under normal circumstances. His body was rejecting the polluted air, though, and he pitched forward. Steadying himself, he put all he had into not dropping her as he coughed again.
Smoldering upholstery, carpet glue and more: houses burnt toxically, and it was evident in the smell. Where had the fire started: a bedroom? He could only assume that was all that laid down the hall, besides a bathroom.
It didn’t matter. He just needed to get Madison out of the house. Keeping his head as low as he could – which wasn’t saying much – he moved forward, trusting his sense of direction to guide him toward the front door.
The smoke seemed to multiply with his every step, and the small home suddenly se
emed huge. His lungs burnt, like he was drowning without water.
All he had to do was get to the door. The fire was behind him and the door was ahead. All that lay between was a few yards of smoke.
He lurched forward, the heat searing the back of his neck. Unlike her son, Madison was completely still in his arms.
He didn’t allow himself to think of why that might be.
There was a cracking sound and a whoosh that tempted him to look back, over his shoulder.
He resisted the temptation. The smoke was too thick to see through, and his lungs burnt, screaming for oxygen. He was dizzy, and that scared him more than the fire spreading behind him.
He heard a voice. A young one – Jace’s – coming from outside. It sounded like he was across the street, but he was probably still right where Elijah had left him.
He was screaming for his mother.
Fear gripped Elijah, cold and stark. What if the kid ran back inside in an attempt to rescue his mom?
The scene played out inside his head as he pitched forward, landing on his knees. Fear turned to panic, but the emotion wasn’t as sharp as it should’ve been. As he gasped for oxygen, he realized that what he’d mistaken for dark smoke was actually blackness invading his peripheral vision.
There was no oxygen left inside the burning house. He might as well have been breathing in water. He cradled Madison against his chest and willed his legs to fucking work.
The darkness kept closing in, until he could only see directly ahead.
He saw a light, glowing white through the smoke. Someone stepped into it, brushed the back of his neck, gripped his collar and pulled.
He tried to rise and faltered. Whoever was there – or whoever he was hallucinating – gripped his vest at the shoulders and yanked with surprising strength.
As soon as he got to his feet, Madison was torn from his arms.
He felt a thousand pounds lighter. Someone was coughing and yelling. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but he followed the sound of their voice.
The air temperature dropped from hellish to merely searing whenever he stumbled through the open front door.
