And neither was Ava.
Brady paled, the flickering flames creating ghostly shadows against his face. “It’s coming from inside.”
Caley listened again, forcing her racing pulse to calm so she could hear clearly over her erratic heartbeat. As she stilled and listened, a shadow passed in front of the living room curtains. The unforgiving truth slapped her like a palm across the face. “Ava’s inside with Scooter.”
Brady stumbled back a step, speechless. Caley didn’t allow herself the luxury of thinking. She plucked Brady’s hat off his head and settled it onto her own, then tugged her sweatshirt sleeves down over her hands and ran.
Straight toward the flames.
* * *
Brady watched the scene before him, numb, as if viewing a movie. His eyes took in the facts but his mind refused to comprehend it all. Caley, snatching his hat and taking off toward the house—toward the fire that licked the roof as if it was a child’s lollipop. The shadows passing in front of the window, then disappearing, Scooter barking so ferociously it was a wonder the dog hadn’t gone hoarse. Facts. Happening to someone else. In some other time.
Then with a rush, the truth filtered through his foggy brain. The two people he loved more than anyone else in the world were inside a burning house. And he stood in the yard, once again failing those who depended on him. Needed him. Caley was a firefighter, but she had no gear. What could she do that he couldn’t? He didn’t know, but he did know the panicked weight on his chest would be nothing compared to the load he’d carry if anything happened to either of them.
Yet his feet remained planted in the yard as if his boots had been filled with concrete. The house blurred in his vision and changed shapes, taking him back to the basement of his nightmares. The dim corners, lit only with golden-yellow and rust-colored flames. The smoke-filled darkness, choking off his screams for help. The basement window he’d smashed with a brick.
The fireman’s face suddenly filling that small screen, hollering words of encouragement before Brady collapsed.
Why hadn’t he remembered that part before? The fireman? He’d blocked it out, only remembering the fear. The panic. The adrenaline rush that burned his veins. That fireman had saved his life. If he hadn’t broken that window, they wouldn’t have found him until it was too late. That fireman had been his rescue. His hope during a consuming fire.
Just like the pastor at church had preached about God. Grateful for this security...for our God is a consuming fire....
Security. Trust. Faith.
Caley should have been out by now.
He might not have come through for his wife. But he had to come through for his daughter—and for the woman who’d stolen the heart he didn’t know could still beat.
“God, help me.” He breathed the words through teeth gritted with fear. But his muscles awakened with strength, and life flowed through his veins. He wasn’t alone. He could do this.
Or he’d die trying.
Determination pushed him through the flames. He dropped immediately to the ground in the smoke-filled room and tore at his work shirt, grateful for the thick material. The buttons popped free and he held the shirt around his nose as he army-crawled over the shaggy carpet, the heat so intense his eyes watered.
“Caley! Ava!” His voice didn’t carry nearly as far as he’d hoped, and he coughed and tried again. “Caley!”
More barking, from the direction of the kitchen, if he remembered correctly. He changed direction, wincing as he bumped his head against what had to be the futon. He kept going. “Ava! Caley!”
The silence, save for the steady crackle of flames, began to bring back the dark memories. No. Not now. He couldn’t afford a panic attack, not when Caley and Ava depended on him. He sent up another prayer, clinging to the fact that God could see through the smoke even when he couldn’t. God, You’re here. You have to be. I have no other hope. Please guide me. Don’t let me fail again.
Then Scooter barked, the Lab’s voice finally dying out in rasps. Suddenly, the dog appeared through the smoke, directly in front of him, tail wagging. He licked Brady’s cheek and whined deep in his throat, as if urging him forward. Brady crawled faster, his hands finding the cool tile of the kitchen floor. “Caley?”
“We’re over here.” Caley’s weak, muffled voice sounded to his left, and he reached blindly until his hand grasped her jeans-clad leg. “I got turned around, and the smoke...I couldn’t leave Ava.”
“We’ll get out. I promise.” He held on tight, unwilling to let her go, feeling with his free hand for Ava until he drew close enough to see her pale face, eyes closed. His heart skipped.
“She’s breathing. But we have to get out of this smoke.” Caley coughed, the harsh sound progressing until she gagged. Brady stood up, clutching the shirt to his nose, and felt along the counter. Metal. Faucet. The sink. He turned on the water and wet the shirt, then handed it to Caley. “Cover Ava’s nose and mouth.”
Where was the fire department? They had to get out, get fresh air. But going back through the living room was too risky. They’d both gotten confused once already. So what was left? The window? It might be their only chance. A sudden roar filled the air above them. The roof.
Brady’s question was answered. They were leaving. Now.
He ripped open drawers until he felt a dish towel, wrapped it around his fist and felt for the window. He held his breath and punched as hard as he could. Pain radiated up his fist and into his forearm, but the answering shatter of glass and the responding rush of fresh air numbed the hurt. He knocked out the shards around the edges of the frame and dropped the towel to the floor.
“Caley!”
As if they’d practiced this procedure a hundred times, she suddenly appeared at his elbow. Without a word, he gripped her waist and hoisted her up, then lowered her through the window. Once she hit bottom, he reached down and scooped up Ava’s limp form. With another prayer on his lips, he leaned out the window until he could deposit Ava into Caley’s waiting arms. She staggered away with her, nearly falling before steadying herself and dashing across the grass toward safety. Brady grabbed Scooter before slipping out the window himself.
“Good dog.” He set the Lab on the ground, and together they rushed to Ava’s side, where Caley bathed her face with his wet shirt.
Brady clutched Ava’s hand. “She going to be okay?” His throat burned and his chest grew tight from the effects of the smoke. He could only imagine how ragged Caley felt. Black soot streaked her face and covered her sweatshirt, along with more than one spot where the fabric had completely burned away.
She leaned down close, fingers checking for Ava’s pulse. “She needs oxygen and an IV. But yes.” The words left Caley’s throat in little more than a rough whisper, but she never looked up from her patient. She probably needed the exact same treatment, but she’d never admit it. She was being a hero, just like she’d been taught.
And she’d never looked more beautiful doing what she did best.
Behind them, the roof collapsed, finally surrendering to the fire’s power. A burst of black smoke spiraled through the air. Then sirens, blessed sirens, filled the night with their high-pitched wail.
Brady collapsed against the grass, his weary chest heaving. Grass blades scratched his bare back, but nothing had ever felt so good. So normal. “We’re safe, girls. We’re safe.”
He closed his eyes, gritty and dry, and gulped a breath of fresh air. Despite the lingering worry over Ava, an indescribable peace washed over his spirit.
He’d left behind one fire—and surrendered to another.
Chapter Twenty
Caley reached up to rub her eyes, which felt coated with sand, and frowned at the IV stuck in the top of her hand. “This wasn’t necessary.” She hated IVs, had since she was a kid.
Brady, wearing an oversi
zed T-shirt the hospital had given him, since his work shirt had been ruined, scooted his chair closer to her cot in the E.R. The nurses, due to lack of space and Brady’s cowboy charm and candy-coated pleas, had agreed to let her and Ava share an E.R. curtain so Brady wouldn’t have to go back and forth between them. “You inhaled as much smoke as Ava. You’re just better conditioned.”
She didn’t feel very conditioned. She felt weak, tired and hot, despite the air-conditioner vent blowing straight on her. And her throat felt as if the fire still lingered inside. “Water.” She was grumpy, now, too, and couldn’t figure out why she kept fighting back tears. Unless the relief had gotten to her.
Brady handed her the plastic cup the nurse had provided, and she gulped down several mouthfuls of water.
“Is Ava okay?” She glanced at her young roommate, the girl’s blond hair splayed against the pillow as she slept. Ava had woken up earlier, after being treated, and then immediately fell back asleep while they waited to admit her. The doctor wanted to keep Ava overnight as a precaution and do an X-ray on her lungs the next morning to make sure there wasn’t more damage.
Caley’s stare lingered, taking in every inch of the girl she’d almost lost. They both needed showers, as evidenced by the soot still marring her fair complexion. Although, now, Caley had nowhere to shower. The reality of her situation struck hard, and was no match for the tears begging to fall.
“That’s the third time you’ve asked about Ava in thirty minutes.” He smiled, taking the impatience out of his words. His grin vanished as rogue tears slipped down her cheeks. “Of course she’s going to be okay. Thanks to you.”
“And you.” Caley reached for Brady’s hand, her unsteady tidal wave of emotion threatening to topple her right off the bed. She sniffed, the familiar smells of hospital antiseptic and latex gloves filling her senses. Except she was used to being on the other side of the IV. She gripped his hand tighter. “You really came through.”
“You ran into the fire first.”
She shrugged. “I’ve been trained to do that.”
“Not without bunker gear.” Brady lifted his eyebrow at her.
Good point.
Beside them, Ava stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She shifted in the bed, then sat upright, the thin mattress squeaking under her small frame.
“Easy, there, kid.” Brady instantly moved to her side, grabbing her bottle of water and pressing it into her hands as he steadied her. “Take some sips before you talk.”
Seeing her dad, Ava’s panicked expression relaxed. She drank greedily before handing the nearly empty bottle back to him.
“Better?” He twisted the lid back on.
She nodded, pressing her hand against her throat. “It hurts.”
“Don’t talk right now, sweetie. You’re going to stay here overnight, but it will be okay. I’m staying with you.”
“So am I.” The words flew from Caley’s lips before she could consider if she was intruding. But from Brady’s immediate nod, she knew she wasn’t. Besides, she couldn’t imagine leaving Ava’s side right now. Not after what they’d been through together.
And she had nowhere else to go.
“I’m sorry.” Tears filled Ava’s eyes, and Brady, still bent over her in concern, wiped them away with his finger. “It’s my fault.”
He straightened, pulling back to see her face. “The fire? No, honey. The firemen said it was sparks from the brush fire they extinguished earlier in the day. The wind carried it over. You didn’t do it.”
“No, not the fire. Getting hurt.” Ava’s trembling hand, topped with her own IV, pointed at Caley. “I hid in your house because I wanted to talk to you.” She paused as a series of coughs choked her voice. “I came through the back door, but you were asleep. So I lay down in the living room to wait and must have fallen asleep, too. When I woke up...” Her tired voice trailed to a hoarse rasp. “The smoke...”
Caley reached across the small space between them on the cots and squeezed Ava’s hand, mindful of their IVs. “No. It was my fault for leaving like I did. I was upset. It was only normal you wanted to come see me.” She should have known better, and now she could kick herself for behaving so foolishly. Of course announcing her departure so suddenly would upset Ava. But she’d never have imagined she’d try to sneak over on her own later that night. She’d underestimated how much Ava cared. The thought both warmed her heart and chilled her to the bone. The night’s events could have turned out so much differently.
“It’s understandable, but you do know better than to sneak out at night.” Brady’s voice, firm but gentle, rose above Caley’s. “Bad things can happen.”
“I know that now.” Ava rolled her eyes, and Caley bit back a relieved grin at the preteen frustration. She was definitely going to be okay. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“You know who really saved the day?” Caley let go of Ava’s hand and eased back against her pillows. Ava did the same, as if suddenly remembering how exhausted she was. “Scooter. He barked the entire time you were inside until I got there. Then he barked the entire time until your dad got there.”
“Is he okay?” Worry seeped onto her face, and she stiffened on the bed.
Brady nodded. “Uncle Max took him to the vet. But he’ll be just fine.”
A small grin crept across Ava’s face. “He’s a hero.” Her expression sobered. “So are you, Miss Caley. And you, Dad.” She reached up her skinny arms, and Brady pulled her into his embrace.
“I love you.” He whispered the words against her hair, and Ava nestled into his hug.
“I love you, too.”
Caley teared up again watching the heartfelt scene before her, even as a sharp pain reminded her that she wasn’t a part of it. Not truly. This was their moment, and while she took great joy in knowing she’d helped bring the father-daughter duo back together, it was still a duo.
Not a trio.
Ava folded her thin pillow so it was thicker, and rolled over on her side. “I think I’m going to nap until they get my room ready.”
“Good idea.” Brady brushed her hair back from her forehead. “We’ll get you cleaned up soon, too. I promise. You’ll feel better after a shower.”
She nodded, eyes fluttering closed. Within moments her breathing grew deep and even. Caley listened hard, grateful she couldn’t hear any wheezing from the girl’s lungs. Hopefully she’d get good results on her X-ray and get to go home tomorrow.
Brady smoothed back Ava’s hair, then, instead of returning to his chair, came over and perched on the side of Caley’s bed. “Speaking of heroes...” He grasped her hand. “There’s something you need to know.”
“That I’m too big of a risk taker and out of your league?” The snarky response stemmed from her personal hurt and stress, and she bit her tongue. He didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t his fault she was who she was.
Though staring into his eyes, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be that same girl anymore. She wanted to be his girl.
“No. That you’re a risk taker, and I love you. Just the way you are.”
The words slid over her weary body like a healing balm. But however much she longed to hear those words from him, they weren’t true. Not really. She’d seen people speak their hearts during a tragedy, then change their minds the minute life returned to normal. It was human nature.
She briefly closed her eyes before reaching up to touch his cheek. “You’re just saying that because of tonight. You’ll change your mind to
morrow.” Above them the hospital speakers squawked, paging a doctor. Around them, life continued, hustling on, proving Caley’s point. This was an emotionally charged night. Nothing more.
Even though she longed for it to be.
“No, I’m serious. I had a wake-up call.” He took a deep breath, lacing his fingers through hers. “When I saw you run into that fire, risking your life for my daughter, it changed everything inside me. It still makes me nervous, but the world needs people like you, Caley. And people like the fireman who saved me from that burning basement years ago. Without people like that, I wouldn’t be here.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Without people like you, Ava wouldn’t be here.”
He meant it. She could see the love in his eyes. But it still felt too good to be true. She studied their entwined fingers, relishing the safety in those hands. The sparks. The love. She gingerly met his gaze. “I realized sort of the opposite.”
“What do you mean?” He shifted beside her, scooting closer to reach up with his free hand and tuck her hair behind her ear.
His touch against her face made her flush even hotter, and this time it wasn’t from the memories of the fire. “That some risks are worth it. And others aren’t.” She shrugged. “I’ve done a lot of things and accomplished a lot of goals in my life. Crazy stuff that meant a lot to me at the time. But now...” Her voice trailed off, and she coughed. Her raw throat hurt like anything, but she had to get this out. “I think the one thing I want the most will be the biggest risk for me yet.”
“What’s that?”
She met his gaze full on. “A forever home.”
Hope filled his eyes. “So no more running?”
“I’m tired of running. Tired of job-hopping and never knowing what’s coming next. I thrived on that for a long time, but now, after realizing how much you and Ava mean to me...” Caley shook her head. “Leaving doesn’t seem like a choice anymore. And Nonie still needs me. I can’t abandon her, either.” She inhaled deeply, offering a half smile. “For the first time in my entire life, Broken Bend feels like it could really be home.”
The Rancher Next Door Page 18
