by Malcom, Anne
“Where is he?” I demanded, my voice sadly not sounding as strong or as furious as I intended. In fact, it sounded utterly weak, broken.
Lance’s jaw was a hard line. He had black marks on his cheeks. “He’s next door. We decided that him seeing his unconscious mother outside his fucking burning home would not be okay for him. Eliza’s with him.”
My body sagged. Only slightly. As much as I trusted Lance not to lie to me about such things, as much as I knew that Eliza would not let harm come to my son, I couldn’t physically relax or breathe properly until he was in my arms, until he was in front of me.
“I need to see him,” I croaked.
“You need a hospital,” Lance countered.
All the grit and smoke that had previously obscured my vision of the situation around us, or maybe that was at least a little mental because my mind was trying to protect me from seeing the home I’d made for my son reduced to ash. Whatever it was, it cleared. It did that so I could sufficiently glare at Lance.
“Take. Me. To. My. Son.”
It was then, right then, amidst desperation, fear and severe smoke inhalation that I found what it took to out badass Lance.
Chapter Seventeen
Nathan was mercifully fine, having been checked out by the paramedics. The paramedics who I refused to even have look at me until they’d completely cleared my pale, confused and brave son.
The cut on my foot wasn’t that deep and didn’t require stitches, it just required me to keep most of my weight off it for the next few days, something that was another kick in the ovaries, since my job consisted of doing nothing but being on my feet. It was something I’d figure out tomorrow.
I’d figure out once I’d processed this, nowhere near a sterile and expensive hospital.
Hence the confrontation with his hard, clear and cold voice. My own was raspy, uneven and little more than a whisper. But I made sure it was strong.
Not just because there was no way I was leaving my son, nor was I scaring him even more and having him watch his mother be put in a hospital.
There was also the fact that there was no way I was going to pay for a night in the hospital and the ambulance ride there. I wouldn’t have hesitated if this was something serious that had the possibility of taking Nathan’s mother away from him. But the paramedics had told me it was more a precaution than anything.
“You’re going to the fucking hospital,” Lance hissed at me after we’d been discussing the matter for a couple of minutes.
I glared at him. “I’m not going anywhere, you saying it in that tone and adding cussing to the mix isn’t going to make it so,” I hissed, resisting the urge to clutch my raw throat as I did so.
It was about then that numerous SUVs screeched up to the street, interrupting the confrontation and distracting Lance enough for me to win. Though the pure fury on his face told me it wasn’t over.
We weren’t over.
* * *
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Rosie promised, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I was sure that I’d have a lipstick mark on that cheek since she was wearing lipstick.
At almost four-thirty in the morning.
She’d arrived an hour ago.
Wearing full makeup.
And six-inch heels.
Messy bun but the kind that would take any other about an hour of fussing to make the perfect thrown together look.
Frickin’ leather pants.
On my best day, I wouldn’t look that good.
Granted, this wasn’t my best day, I was wearing some oversized sweats of Karen’s and Lance’s jacket. The one that managed to still smell like him despite the fact everything else reeked of acrid smoke.
I tried to subtly smell it the entire night.
I did not want to know what my hair looked like. I didn’t know how much of it I had left.
Rosie smelled like expensive perfume, it stayed in the air after she leaned back from the kiss.
“I’ll bring the essentials,” she continued. “Foundation, concealer, lipstick, setting powder, contour, of course, mascara, highlighter, setting spray. And clothes.” She was listing things off on her red-tipped fingers. “Starting from the bottom, La Perla.” Her kohl-rimmed eyes went to my chest area, which was covered by Lance’s jacket. “I’m thinking a 36D?”
I blinked at her. Did she just guess my bra size over top of a man’s jacket at four in the morning?
“And panties, of course. I’ll bring you a variety... you know, just in case.” She winked and her eyes went behind me. My eyes did not follow her gaze because I knew exactly who she was looking at, the fact she even knew to look at him while talking about panties made my neck heat. And nothing to do with the minor burns I was suffering from all over my body.
“I’m thinking you and me are almost the same size, but I’ll go shopping anyway,” she added on a grin.
My stomach dipped at the thought of her going out and spending money on me. By the look of everything she wore, I would not be able to afford to pay her back if she went shopping for me. Not for one pair of underwear. Plus, she’d already driven all the way out here, along with her husband and sleeping child, and almost all of the Greenstone Security crew. They arrived as the paramedics and fire trucks were leaving. The men were standing around my front lawn, in some kind of badass circle, talking about whatever men like that talked about at four in the morning. Waterboarding. How to disarm bombs. Whatever.
Lance was there too, staring at me. I knew this because every time I tried to sneak a glance at him, I was caught by his piercing gaze.
So yeah, Greenstone Security had already done enough for me, getting out of their beds in their no doubt kick-ass houses in LA, leaving their families to come here to make sure we were okay. Rosie was not going shopping for me. No matter how much my now nonexistent wardrobe would thank her.
“Rosie, you don’t need to—” I started to protest, my voice still weak and scratchy.
She held up her finger. “Nope, you do not get to try and make an excuse to stop me from shopping,” she snapped. Her eyes narrowed. “And you also do not get to try the staunch woman alone shit. I get it. I respect it. But it’s not happening. Your house burned the fuck down. You smashed through a window, holding your kid to get out of it. Then you ran back in to get your kid’s toy—granted that was a little silly, but I’m a mom, I get it.” Her voice turned soft now. “You’re a hero. How about you let us take up some of the slack?”
I opened my mouth to tell her they’d already done too much for me.
She smiled. “Oh, and that totally isn’t a question. We’re taking the slack. We’re helping. That means new clothes. Makeup. That means shit for Nathan. That means cocktails. Food. That means anything you need. ‘Cause that’s what we do, sweetie. We help our girlfriends out. We do it whether they like it or not, whether they ask or not and mostly often, we do it while they protest loudly.” Her eyes went behind me again. “Those men behind us may be some of the most stubborn asses on earth, but they’re not even a match for me and the rest of the girls. You’re strong. You could maybe take me on. But the whole group? Forget about it. So just let us help.” She gave me another wink and walked away before I could say anything else.
Her heels didn’t even sink into the grass as she met her husband at the door of their car.
The door which he opened for her and gave her a slap on her ass as she climbed in.
She was right. I wasn’t going to win against any of them.
That became apparent about ten minutes later when the badass circle had broken, Keltan had come to check on me, as well as Duke, who gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead. Something I notice Lance reacted to.
He was the only one that stayed. All of them promised to be back tomorrow to help. Help with what, I didn’t know. This was kind of beyond what they were here for. The firemen wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the source of the fire until later, but I was almost sure it was something I’d done. I had a lot of candles lit last ni
ght. I was religious about blowing them all out before I went to bed, terrified of something just like this happening. But I was tired. Beyond tired, the entire month catching up to me. My thoughts were occupied. By the man currently staring daggers into Duke’s well-toned back.
The firefighters would discover that I caused the fire. That I ruined my home. Almost killed my son. I probably wouldn’t get insurance then, knowing that there would likely be some catch in my cheap plan to fuck me over.
The thought made me so sick I almost lost the contents of my stomach on Eliza and Karen’s front lawn.
“Let’s get you inside, honey,” Karen said from beside me. “You need to get some sleep. Nathan’s in our bed, why don’t you snuggle up beside him, we’ll take the sofa.”
I blinked at my friend. “No. We can’t push you out of your bed.”
She raised her brow as if I were crazy for fighting about something like that considering the circumstances—and I was.
“Um, normally I’d say yes, but you almost died tonight. You’re taking our bed and we’re having no discussion about that. We’re also having no discussion about Eliza getting the office situated for you and Nathan.”
Eliza and Karen had a two-bedroom, around the same size as mine, but they’d done a lot more work to it, and it looked way nicer than mine. Well, considering half of mine was a smoking mess, it totally looked better, but before that, it was almost embarrassing. Since they owned, they did things like knock out walls to make open plan living/dining areas. None of their walls had scratches or marker stains from kids trying to make ‘art.’ They had a huge deck out the back, along with kick-ass wicker patio furniture. All of their furniture was crazy nice. Elegant. Classy.
And their office was just like that, full of expensive computers, solid wood desks, rugs, art. Things that would take all day to ‘clear out.’
“No,” I said, though it was becoming clear that we didn’t really have another option. The house was unlivable, the firefighter was able to tell us that much. Logan and Esther would take us into their house without question, but I couldn’t put that on them either. They also had nice things, things they earned. And a five-year-old, even one with good manners like Nathan would rip through that place eventually.
I couldn’t afford to have us in a motel for more than a handful of nights.
But still, the thought of having Eliza and Karen do all that, disrupt their lives invade their homes... it went against everything in me.
“We can’t do that to you guys, you don’t have the room—”
Karen’s eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t a question. You’re staying with us.”
“They’re stayin’ with me.”
On this, we both moved to the voice and the man who we hadn’t realized was eavesdropping our conversation.
His face was pretty much the same as it had been all night, tight expression, simmering fury.
“What?” I choked out.
His eyes bore into me. “We’ve got that place down the street. It ain’t much. But it’s three bedrooms. You and Nathan will have space to yourselves. Someone from Greenstone will be there at all times, mostly me. You’ll be safe. So shit like this doesn’t happen again.” His sentences were short. Clipped. Painful.
Karen looked from Lance to me.
“I know you consider yourselves to be one step up from a Hemsworth brother in an Avengers movie, and you kind of are, but Greenstone Security can’t stop me from forgetting to blow out a candle,” I told him in my raspy low voice.
Something moved in Lance’s face, something that wasn’t fury. I didn’t quite catch it.
“Not a discussion,” he said. “Makes more sense and you know it. So don’t hurt your throat tryin’ to argue with me. Right now, you need to go in, get some sleep, so when your boy wakes up to the sight of his house, you’re gonna have at least an hour under your belt to deal with that.”
I hated that he was saying things like that, ordering me around like that, like he had a right to. I also hated that he was making complete frickin’ sense.
My throat did burn like a mother and the paramedic had specifically told me not to strain it too much by talking.
So instead of talking, I just glared at him, turned on my heel and did exactly as he said.
Despite the fact I somehow knew it would turn me into ashes, just like my burning house next to me.
* * *
Although I didn’t think I would be sleeping with the remains of my house, Nathan’s home, still hot and smoking right beside us, somehow I did.
Not for long, though.
Partly because I kept having dreams of burning alive in my own home with my son in my arms.
Mostly because my very alive son was lying on my chest, obscuring my breathing and yelling, “Mommy!”
He first wanted to know why we were having a sleepover at Karen and Eliza’s, and then when I’d gently, in a raspy voice told him the truth, I’d hugged him tight while he blinked rapidly trying to understand that all of his toys, everything he knew and made him comfortable was gone.
When I let him go, expecting tears, his eyes were dry, though they were full of hurt.
“But you saved Feebo,” he said quietly, snatching the rabbit that smelled of smoke and had a charred left ear and pulling it to his chest.
He used his other hand to brush my hair from my face in a gesture that was about forty years older than he was.
“You saved Feebo for me, Mommy. So we will build a new house. It will be okay.”
I had never worked harder to stave off a complete mental breakdown in front of my son in my entire life.
Somehow, with a little chubby hand caressing my cheek, I managed it.
“Yeah, buddy, it will all be okay,” I whispered.
I didn’t know quite how it’d be okay, but I’d make it so.
I started making it so by getting up with my son, having breakfast with Karen and Eliza—who were already up and had made pancakes and coffee—then I continued doing so by having the courage to step outside to see the damage, my son’s hand clasped in mine, giving me strength.
It was bad.
To say the least.
But it wasn’t bad, not really, with Nathan beside me, clutching his soft toy talking about how he wanted his new room to be up in a tree instead of in the house.
* * *
The day was long.
Really frickin’ long.
Lance arrived as we were standing in the yard, talking about how Nathan could not have a treehouse for a bedroom.
“Captain!” Nathan yelled. “I’m having a treehouse for a bedroom.”
Lance’s first words to me were, “You’re not meant to be on your foot, go inside.”
I managed not to scream at him because I’d had coffee, pancakes and my kid was somehow smiling and I didn’t want to scare him by shouting at his favorite hero.
“My house is not meant to look like this either,” I snapped, waving my arm toward the blackened mess. “But that’s life.”
He narrowed his eyes, obviously not happy with my new found snarkiness, or maybe it was the rasp to my voice, edged with hysteria.
Maybe it was everything.
“You bought donuts!” Nathan all but screamed.
I hadn’t looked down to what was in Lance’s hands for the entire interaction, mostly because I was too focused on winning a stare-off with him. When I did move my gaze down, I saw he did indeed have a box of sugar covered crack in his hands.
“We’ve had pancakes already,” I told him, feeling bitchy because I was exhausted, my throat was sore, my foot really did hurt like a bitch, and all I wanted to do was kiss Lance and let him take care of me.
Granted, the man was not looking at me like he wanted to take care of me, he looked like he wanted to murder—or at the very least, torture—me. But he pulled me out of a burning building. He stayed with me all night, he then arrived at seven in the morning with donuts and, looking at his other hand, coffee.
“Well, you can have pancakes and donuts,” he clipped, leaning down so Nathan could snatch the box from him, despite being taught not to snatch. “How about you take those into your aunt’s house, bud?” Lance said in a question that was actually an order, but in a slightly kinder tone than he used with me.
Nathan did not hesitate to heed that order.
I watched him run into the house before I turned to glare at Lance.
He was already glaring at me and spoke before I could scold him like I wanted to.
“Kid’s standin’ in front of his ruined house, he’s havin’ fuckin’ pancakes and donuts, Elena,” he said.
Shit.
He was an asshole who ordered me around and my son—who actually liked it—but he was right. Nathan was being remarkable, beyond remarkable considering what he’d gone through, he frickin’ deserved copious amounts of sugar before eight in the morning. It put a smile on his face.
Lance didn’t wait for me to respond. “He goin’ to school?”
I shook my head. I’d wrestled with whether to make him go through a normal day and not disrupt his life anymore or keep him close, let him watch movies and play at Karen and Eliza’s all day.
I’d decided on the latter. Right now.
“Good,” Lance said. His eyes went up and down my body, I was still wearing the sweats and had morning hair and most likely, morning breath. “You’re not goin’ to work.”
Again, not a question.
I folded my arms. “That’s not your decision to make,” I snapped, even though I totally wasn’t going to work. I wasn’t a total idiot. I couldn’t speak properly, was limping and my freaking house burned down last night.
Having Lance think he could make that decision for me, after disappearing for a week had my hackles up.
He stepped forward, all the way forward so I could smell him, feel his heat pressed up against my clothes.
“It concerns you. Your wellbeing. So yeah, cupcake, it’s my fuckin’ decision to make,” he murmured, breath all minty fresh and delightful.
