Once Burned (Firehouse Fourteen Book 1)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  He had expected her to be the one to go over the details with him, to explain how the program would work. It had been difficult for him to hide his surprise when he learned that Jay would be the one orchestrating everything and that Kayla was only there to oversee it. To supervise Jay.

  It was just one more surprising thing he was learning about this new Kayla.

  He shifted so he could watch her without seeming to. She was sitting sideways in the hard wooden chair, her head propped up on one hand, the careless posture closely resembling that of some of his bored students. Her long hair fell to the side, partially hiding her face, and he couldn’t tell how much she was paying attention to what was going on, or if she was paying any attention at all. Part of him wanted her to look at him, to silently acknowledge his presence.

  To admit that she was as aware of him as he was of her.

  Nick shifted again and silently cursed himself for being such a fool. She had every reason to avoid him, to stay as far away from him as she could. He knew that, but he still wanted her to notice him.

  Fool.

  He had been surprised when she walked into the classroom because he hadn’t expected to see her, not after she had made it so clear that she wanted nothing to do with him or the program. But for all his surprise, part of him had been pleased, too. And for that brief moment when he held her, when her body eased against his, he had forgotten all about their history and remembered only the sweet fire that had burned between them.

  That obviously still burned between them, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He wondered if Kayla had felt it, too, that swirling flame of need and want that had instantly wrapped around them.

  Which didn’t say much for any respectability he thought he had. Christ, he had almost killed her and now, the first time he touched her since he ran away all those years ago, all he could think of was how they had been when they were together. Yeah, he could try to convince himself he had changed all he wanted, but the truth was obvious. When it came to Kayla, he hadn’t changed at all. And what the hell did that say about him?

  His eyes drifted back to where she was sitting, still looking carelessly bored. She shifted position, slouching in the seat with her legs stretched out in front of her, her feet crossed at the ankles and her arms crossed in front of her. Her appearance was a complete contradiction. She should have looked cool and reserved, detached and maybe a little masculine, in the shapeless dark blue uniform pants and t-shirt, but she didn’t. To him, she looked innocent and lost. Like she was only playing at this other tough persona he didn’t really understand.

  Or maybe it was just his own guilt that made him see what he wanted to see, because he didn’t want to admit he was responsible for her loss of innocence.

  “That sounds good to me.” Kayla’s voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up in surprise, thinking he had spoken out loud by mistake. But no, she was standing next to Jay, leaning over his shoulder as she hastily signed some form. She glanced at her watch then gave Jay’s shoulder a friendly pat before walking to the door. Nick stared after her in surprise, watching in silent bewilderment as she left without saying a word.

  He finally noticed the silence that followed her departure and turned to find Jay watching him.

  “So tell me, Lansing, did you even hear anything that I said? At all?” Jay asked the question as he scooped papers and forms into a haphazard pile and tossed them into a battered folder.

  “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because your attention was focused somewhere else the entire time.”

  Nick started to deny it then thought better of it. He didn’t think he had been obvious, but maybe he was wrong. And did it really matter if the man across from him had noticed? Not really. Not unless—the thought trailed off as Nick studied Jay more closely. Then another thought, unwelcome and irritating, popped into his mind. He straightened in the chair and pushed at the papers in front of him, striving for a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “My apologies. I didn’t realize you two were involved.”

  Silence greeted his statement for a whole second before it was shattered by a loud laugh. Nick looked up in surprise at Jay’s reaction, not knowing what to make of it.

  “Sorry,” Jay muttered, still chuckling. “I’m not laughing at you, just at the image of me and Mike involved.”

  “So you two aren’t…you know?”

  “No, we’re just friends. Very good friends.” The amused expression left Jay’s face as he studied Nick with a cool seriousness. “I’m closer to Mike than I am to a lot of people, and I care about her. I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  “I’m not planning on hurting her.”

  Jay continued to study him, his light eyes stern and assessing. “Good. Because you’ve already hurt her enough. More than enough, I think.”

  “I know that.” Nick’s admission obviously startled Jay. It startled him to a point, as well. He had known, all these years, how much he had hurt her physically. He could imagine only too well how his cowardice and shame had hurt her emotionally. It had been easier to convince himself that she was better off. That the years between then and now would have made it easier for her. But he’d only been lying to himself. And he had never admitted it before, not out loud and certainly not to anyone else, let alone a complete stranger.

  “At least you admit it. That says something, I think.” Jay shifted in the chair and continued studying Nick. After a long minute, he spoke again, his voice low and quiet. “I haven’t made up my mind about you yet, Lansing, but I’m going to tell you something anyway. Mike isn’t as tough as she looks, and she’s one hell of a lot more vulnerable than she’ll ever admit. Probably more than she even knows. Just remember that.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “About eight years, ever since I got into the department. We came through the Academy together. Are you asking if I knew about you? No, she never mentioned you until the night you showed up at the station. Did I know about the accident? Yes, for the most part.”

  “So you knew about the accident, but not me?”

  Jay gave him one long look then stood, gathering his stuff into a pile and tossing it into a soft-sided case. “That’s right. But I knew Mike well enough to be able to figure out that the accident involved someone she was close to. I didn’t need all the details. Hell, after seeing that scar, I didn’t want the details. I’ve seen enough in the field to figure out how bad it was and what she went through.”

  Nick’s throat closed, threatening to choke him. He swallowed, forcing the sensation away, and looked up at Jay. His words were hoarse, forced through a too-tight throat. “Scar? How bad? I mean—”

  Jay looked at Nick with an expression of disbelief, mingled with astonishment and something else Nick didn’t want to define, something that increased his guilt a hundredfold. “You never saw? No, I guess you didn’t. Mike said she never saw you after the accident, but I thought—”

  “I did see her. Once.”

  “But she said—”

  “She didn’t see me. It wasn’t long after the accident, and she was still in Shock Trauma. I only got to see her through the glass of the room cubicle for a minute. She wasn’t even awake. Or conscious, I guess. Then her father showed up and—well, he never liked me to start with, you know? Besides, they only allowed me a few minutes. I had to leave anyway.”

  Silence greeted his quiet admission but he refused to look at Jay and focused instead on the scarred surface of the desk. He forced himself to remember again that long ago day that he had pushed to the back of his memory, and the sight of the battered figure huddled on a hospital bed, parts of her body hidden by thick bandages, surrounded by foreign equipment and tubing.

  He remembered the noise that had escaped him, a deep rumble of anguish that clawed its way out of his throat. And the coldness. Not from outside. No, this coldness was a thousand times worse. Sharp, biting, almost burning as it broke free inside him, from somewhere deep that he
had never known existed. It spread its way across his body, wrapping around him until he couldn’t breathe.

  And he remembered raising his hand, resting it on the glass window that separated him from Kayla. Remembered thinking that if only he could touch her, if he could hold her in his arms, then everything would be fine, nothing else would matter. But another hand had reached out and grabbed him, shaking him violently and throwing him against the wall, yelling, threatening.

  Nick shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind.

  God, how he had tried to forget, knowing even as he did that he never would. A noise pulled him from his thoughts and he mentally shook himself again, not surprised to see that Jay was looking at him expectantly. Nick shrugged in apology and Jay repeated his question.

  “You said you had to leave. Where did you go?”

  Nick laughed, a bitter sound to his own ears that accompanied the bitterness of his confession.

  “To a drug and alcohol rehab to dry out.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nick stared down at his watch, surprised that so much time had passed, surprised that nobody had noticed his car parked so conspicuously on the small street. It wasn’t a regular neighborhood, this quiet community of Victorian houses that formed something close to an old village, nestled in the rolling hills of the north county. Any strange vehicle should stick out.

  But then, he was driving a Volvo and wearing a tie. Who else would think to even look twice at him?

  Nick bit back a muttered oath and shook his head, still not sure why he was here. He looked down at the packet of pictures sitting next to him. He could have waited until next week to return them. For that matter, he could have just given them to Jay.

  His gaze darted back to the small renovated two-story barn, taking in the red paint and white trim, the inartistic landscaping that dotted the front here and there, the trees that gave an illusion of privacy. It was a contrast to the lusher landscape of the old Victorian farmhouse a hundred yards away.

  A Jeep sat in the small graveled lot off the driveway that circled the barn before leading up to the house. Nick shook his head again in surprise. Not at the fact that Kayla was home—he had been pretty sure she would be on a Thursday night—but at the changes in the barn. The last time he had seen it, it had been a ramshackle building that gave an impression of dilapidation despite the sturdiness and cleanliness inside.

  He looked at his watch again and sighed. He was turning into a stalker.

  Almost three weeks had passed since the meeting where he had made his quiet admission to Jay. There had been two more meetings since then, each quiet and subdued. Kayla had been at the last one for a total of five minutes, long enough to toss a packet of pictures on Nick’s desk. Graphic images of accidents, all the result of drunk drivers, she had explained before walking out. Nick had thumbed through the pictures, curious.

  Graphic.

  Yeah, that was one way to describe them. He had come close to being sick when he looked at them.

  Jay had given the pictures no more than a cursory glance then continued going over notes for the program. At the end of the meeting he had suggested, not too subtly, that Nick go over the pictures some more then return them to Kayla. At home. Nick wasn’t sure what Jay was up to, but here he was, taking the man’s advice and not really knowing why.

  Nick sighed and started the car, calling himself all kinds of names as he drove the short distance from the street to the barn. He turned the ignition off and sat for another minute before finally getting out of the car, the pack of pictures held tightly in one hand. He didn’t want to think of Kayla’s reaction when she saw him. She was bound to be surprised. And angry.

  He took a deep breath and quickly knocked on the door, afraid to hesitate in case he lost what little nerve he had. Muted music drifted through the closed door, blocking out any other sound there might have been. He knocked again, harder this time, and waited. A minute went by. The music suddenly quieted a second before Kayla opened the door, a smile on her face.

  “I thought you said—” The smile died as her voice trailed off and Nick realized she had been expecting somebody else. “What are you doing here?”

  Nick shifted uncomfortably, taking in the baggy sweat shorts and paint-stained tank shirt she was wearing. The smell of fresh latex paint drifted out of the open doorway and he realized she had been painting. He congratulated himself for being so observant and offered Kayla an apologetic shrug. “I just wanted to drop these off.”

  She looked down at the packet in his hand then back up at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Several long seconds went by while she studied him, then she blew out a long breath between pursed lips. She stepped back and opened the door further, motioning for him to come in. Nick muttered a thanks and closed the door behind him, looking around. The inside had changed as much as the outside, he realized.

  The downstairs had been converted into a large living room with a high ceiling, airy and spacious, decorated in a neutral sand color with muted blues and greens. A decent-sized combination kitchen and dining room was off to the left, decorated with the same color schemes. A closed door was to his right and at first he thought it must be the bedroom. Then he looked up and noticed the open loft above him. From what he could see, the entire barn had been redone instead of just a portion of it, which meant Kayla had plenty of room for herself. Nick was surprised, but he wasn’t sure why.

  “It looks really different. Nice,” he commented. Kayla narrowed her eyes at him again but didn’t say anything. She turned and walked into the kitchen area and Nick followed her, part of him still waiting for her to throw him out. She went to the refrigerator and opened it. Nick’s gaze drifted downward, noticing her slender, well-muscled legs. He looked away when she straightened, a can of beer in her hand. She watched him, still silent, as she popped the pull tab with a little hiss and took a long swallow.

  She leaned against the counter, her arms loosely crossed, and took another sip. She studied him for a few long seconds, her green eyes carefully blank. “Did you want a beer or anything?”

  “Uh, no. No thanks. I told you, I don’t drink anymore.”

  “Hm. So you came to drop the pictures off?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmmm.” She took another long swallow of the beer, watching him over the rim of the can. “Fine. You can leave them on the table on your way out.”

  “Kayla, I…” Nick let his voice trail off, not sure what to say. She raised one eyebrow in his direction, obviously waiting for him to finish. He shifted under her stare and searched for something, anything, to say. A thought popped into his head and he grabbed it in desperation. “I don’t think we can use these. Some of them are too graphic. I’m afraid of the impression they might leave.”

  “Too graphic? Fine, it’s your program. I didn’t realize you wanted to gloss over the effects of drunk driving.” She drained the beer and tossed it into the trash can, then walked by him and out of the kitchen. Nick stared after her, biting back the brief flare of anger he felt at her words, then abruptly followed her.

  “Kayla—”

  “I’m busy. I’m painting. I don’t have time.” She tossed the clipped words over her shoulder as she climbed the steps to the loft. Not stopping to think, Nick followed her, only half-surprised when she didn’t turn around and kick him down the stairs.

  He paused at the top, not hiding his surprise. The loft was huge, used mostly as a bedroom. A king size bed was pushed to the middle of the floor, covered with tarps. Other furniture, a dresser and nightstands from their shape, were pushed close to the bed and also covered by tarps. The smell of paint was stronger up here. It looked like Kayla was painting in sections as time allowed. The back half of the room was finished. If the color and decorations already there were any indication, the room was going to be the ultimate definition of romantic intimacy.

  Nick closed his eyes, shutting them against several sudden and very vivid images, pictures he had
no right imagining. He swallowed and opened his eyes, glad that Kayla didn’t seem to notice. She was busy dipping a roller into a paint tray, then applying the paint with vicious strokes that made it look like she was attacking the wall instead of painting it. She reached up with a grunt, stretching to get the top of the vaulted ceiling. Her shirt pulled up with the motion, revealing an expanse of flat belly and tanned skin.

  And torn flesh.

  Nick’s breath left him in a rush, as if someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. A jagged scar ran across Kayla’s stomach at an angle, marring the otherwise perfect flesh. It started somewhere above the shirt’s hem and ran down along her right side, disappearing into the waistband of her shorts. He must have made some kind of noise because Kayla halted what she was doing and turned to him, her face expressionless. She studied him for a minute then tossed the roller down, splattering paint on the tarp.

  “What’s the matter, Nick? Oh, that’s right. You never saw your handiwork before, did you?” Her voice was flat and emotionless. Nick looked up at her, at the coldness in her eyes, and silently shook his head, unable to speak. Before he realized what she was doing, she grabbed the hem of the shirt and lifted it, pulling it off in one angry movement so she was standing there in only a black sports bra and those loose, low-hanging gym shorts.

  Nick’s knees wobbled and he sagged against the wall, looking for some kind of support. She closed the distance between them, not stopping until she was a foot away from him, standing in front of him in the sports bra and sweat shorts, her hands placed defiantly on her hips.

  “Go on, Nick, take a hard look. Then tell me again that those pictures are too graphic.”

  Nick watched her face for a long second, at the defiance etched so clearly on her features, and at the fear hidden so carefully in the depths of her eyes. Then he lowered his head and looked, because he was helpless not to.