He thought for a second. “Yeah. I did but not because of Dad’s words of wisdom, or hugs or care or anything. I got closure because of decisions I made. He’s dead to me. Dead. So is Jake. I’ve washed my hands of the both of them.”
His jaw set into a rigid block.
Blaire nodded. “That’s probably for the best. It probably hurts, but you did the right thing. I’m sorry, Jackson, but I hate your brother so much. I’ve been stewing over him ever since you told me about the fire. He almost killed you—you and your team. And that entire forest is gone. All the animals.”
Jackson’s heart raced. He blinked like a maniac, unable to get the rest of the story from his brain to his mouth.
“I swear he’s dead to me.” He swallowed and turned away.
“What?” Blaire said. “What aren’t you saying?”
“Baby, I…” He held his hands out, palm up. Then, he dropped his head in his hands. “Shit, this is hard.”
“You’re scaring me. Just say it.” Her voice sounded tense and high.
He blew out a lungful of air. Let’s get this over with.
“He’s the one who put you in the path of Rivera,” he blurted.
“He, who?”
“Jake. He went to that clinic where you used to work.”
She scowled. “The one in downtown Seattle I worked at while attending beauty school? Are you kidding?”
“That’s the one.”
She shivered. “That place was always slammed with patients. I probably checked him in or at least saw him in the waiting room. That’s why he looked familiar and why he always creeped me out. What are the odds that I would fall in love with his brother?”
“Right? And then, apparently, Rivera was in Seattle for some reason, and he spied you. He wanted you but didn’t feel like he could just approach you. Who knows why? Maybe he was already wanted in Seattle, I don’t know. But then, apparently Jake’s dealer screwed one of Rivera’s distributors, and Jake’s guy gave up Jake. That’s what I made out, anyway. And he…” The words caught in his throat like a fishhook.
“He, what?” Blaire snapped. “Cough up the details.”
“Jake sent you the message you thought was from Karlos on your phone. Karlos was trying to mess with you from wherever he was—he might have already been in prison, or in hiding, I don’t know. So, Jake sent the flowers and the note.”
Blaire’s head fell back, and she stared up at the sky. “Oh, my fucking God.”
The seconds stretched out, long, sticky, and painful, as Jackson waited for her to say something.
Her hands flew to her head, and she tugged her growing locks. “Oh, my fucking God,” she said again. “And I went all half-cocked and acted like a teenage lunatic.”
“It could have been worse,” Jackson said.
She lifted her head and looked him dead in the eyes.
“Rivera wanted to find out who snitched on him. He wanted to murder the snitch. If that had happened…” Jackson’s voice broke.
Blaire’s face drained of color. She swallowed hard. Her breathing began to quicken.
“I hate your brother,” she said, voice even. Her eyes glinted with rage, though.
“Me, too. I just—”
She held out her hand like a stop sign and drew her fingers across her lips. “Zip it. Don’t say a word. Don’t move. I’ve got to go run right now, or I’m going to lose it.”
“All right. Okay. Got it.”
She shot to her feet and raced toward the back gate, threw it open, and darted from the yard.
Footsteps pounded along the street on the other side of the house.
Jackson winced. Should I follow her? Do as she says? He started to stand, but his body refused to move. If he went after her already, she probably wouldn’t want to speak to him.
He drummed his fingers on the table and stared at nothing.
A few minutes later, a faint cry of anguish competed with the waves across the street. His heart bunched into a knot of anguish.
I can’t wait. She’s in distress.
He forced his body to rise, and then let himself out of the yard and jogged across the street.
The dim light made it hard to see, but he managed to make out a dark shape hunched in the sand. Jackson ran to Blaire, dropping to his knees by her side.
Wrapping his arms around her, he cradled her. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
She didn’t resist, so he took this as a good sign.
She sobbed. “Let’s get this behind us, Jackson,” she blubbered into her hands. “You, you should be in bed right now, next to me. You should be resting and healing. I should be comforting you. You’ve been through hell. And here we are dealing with your goddamned brother. Let’s let this be the last time your brother comes between us.” She lifted her head and met his gaze, eyes red. “I hate your brother so hard right now. Can’t stand the thought of him. But I refuse to let that kind of toxic energy destroy me…destroy us.”
Jackson’s breath stuck in his throat. “So, you’re not leaving me?”
“What?” She frowned. “After all we’ve been through? No, I’m not leaving you. What a dumb thing to say.”
“I thought you’d leave me when I told you what he’d done,” Jackson said, suddenly aware of his shaking hands.
“Did you have anything to do with it?” she said.
“What? God, no.”
“You’re not your brother, Jackson. You’re so not your brother,” she said, gripping his fingers.
“What if, every time you look at me, you see Jake?” Jackson said. “It’s a real possibility.”
Her lips rolled between her teeth, and, she thought a moment. “I’ve never seen you as anyone but the amazing hero you are, Jackson. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and care. When I met your brother, I couldn’t believe you two were cut from the same cloth.”
Jackson let out a long breath of relief. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if you left me, but I’d understand.”
“Don’t go there, honey. I’m tired, you’re tired, you’ve been through literal hell and back, I’ve lived through my own hell…” She shook her head. “I should have known something was up when there was no black rose in the flowers.”
“Jake was told to get one, but he probably decided to forego it to save money,” Jackson said.
“I’ll bet it was him snooping around the house.” She gritted her teeth together.
“You’re probably right,” Jackson said.
Kneeling before him in the sand, she placed her hands on top of his thighs and gazed at him intently.
He savored the warmth. He positioned his palms on top of her hands.
“Rivera couldn’t have wooed me if I had more self-esteem. So Jake was the snake who told him where to find me in Colorado.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Let’s make a deal. Let’s both make an effort to change and heal from all this.”
“Anything. Name your terms,” he said, gazing intently into her violet eyes. “I’ll do anything for you.”
“Therapy. I need to grow my self-confidence and you need to stop being your brother’s co-dependent.”
He nodded. “I have to go to therapy anyway to deal with PTSD or emotional trauma from the fire.”
She nodded.
“Good. Let’s go on lots more dates, too. More good times together. And…I was going to wait to surprise you, but you need some good news right now,” she said.
“As long as you’re going to stay with me, I don’t need any more good news,” he said.
“But this news is great,” she said, with a grin.
“Tell me.” He leaned forward and kissed her. His lips against hers did more to restore him than anything. Reluctantly, he inched away. “Tell me before I fall over dead asleep and we spend the night in the sand,” he said, then, kissed her again.
God, she feels good.
“You know how I’ve been dissatisfied with my job. It’s not for me. I’m going to the academy,” she sai
d, her breath warm against his lips. “I wanted to wait until tomorrow to tell you but now’s as good as any.”
He drew away, blinking. “What kind of academy? The fire academy?”
Excitement radiated from her face as she nodded. “I know I’ll have to be a volunteer for a while, but your department has this new deal where, once I finish the academy and get a job as a career firefighter, I can apply for assistance to become a paramedic. If I’m a good candidate for the department, they’ll pay for it. I’m going to go for it. I’ve already got all the paperwork. I went straight to the department after I left you at the fire.”
“Sweetheart, that’s fantastic!” Jackson said. “You’re right, that is great news!” He leaned forward and kissed her again. “You’ll make a great firefighter.”
“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I think it will help shake me out of this dumb victim status I’ve been rolling with for years, but now, can we please go home and go to bed?”
“Absolutely.” He pushed to stand and extended his hand to her.
Gracefully, she accepted it, standing, and put her arm around his back.
He winced and arched away. “Ye-ouch. Sorry, sweetheart, my back is off-limits.”
“Oh!” Her hands flew to her face. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Better?”
“Much,” he said, drawing up her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I’m ready for all this bullshit to come to an end.”
“God, yes,” she said.
They walked across the sand, heading for home—their home—where they could both begin rebuilding their lives anew…together.
Chapter 38
Two months later, Jackson, Griffin, and Cassandra had been deployed to a wildfire in northeast Oregon known as the Fox Hollow fire. This one wasn’t quite as intense as the one that nearly cost him his life. Still, it had consumed over twenty-nine-thousand acres of land. No loss of life had been reported, but a few homes had been destroyed. Teams of hotshots, air tanker drops of water and fire retardant, and crews like Jackson’s had successfully contained the fire in less than two weeks. Now it was manageable enough for his crew to head home.
Jackson gathered his belongings, stuffed them into his red gear bag, and prepared to head home.
As he stepped free from the large tent he’d shared with three other firefighters over the last week, he cast his gaze around at all the tents and trailers that had been set up. Huge plywood stands stood in one section of the short, dry grass, displaying maps, weather reports, and daily assignments. A smaller group of firefighters stood before the plywood stands, listening to Captain Wright give his daily briefing. Some of them lifted their hands in a farewell to Jackson.
He did the same to them.
“Yo, Hollerback, wait up,” Griffin called to him.
Jackson paused and turned around.
Griffin and Cassandra fell into step next to him, their gear bags in their hands.
“This one wasn’t so bad,” Jackson said, as they headed toward the dark green bus that would drive them home.
“Not like the last one, that’s for sure,” Griffin said.
“Yeah, the last fire left a real taint on my soul,” Cassandra said. Her untamed wavy hair bobbed about her face. “I’m glad for the PTSD therapy I went through. I no longer have nightmares of MacHugh falling on top of me.” She shivered.
“Yeah, it’s really helped me, too,” Jackson said.
That, and couples counseling. He and Blaire had been vigilant about learning healthy ways of regarding themselves, as well as one another. They’d built the foundation for a long-lasting relationship. He hoped to seal the deal and ask her to marry him soon.
Not only that, through relentless support from his therapist, and brutal self-reflection, he’d come to peace with his biological upbringing, even allowing himself a measure of forgiveness toward his parents and his brother.
“I didn’t have to go through too much therapy,” Griffin said. “Not like you two.” He cast a sympathetic gaze at Jackson. “You ever speak to your brother?”
“Nope,” Jackson said. “I ended that part of my life. Cut all ties with him and my dad. I had to do it to save my own life and to protect my relationship with Blaire.”
“She’s a hoot in Academy,” Griffin said, chuckling. “I walked through the training center to speak with Kowalski and caught her kicking the pants off some of the other recruits with her skills. She’s a determined one.”
“She is. I’m really proud of her,” Jackson said, a sunbeam of a smile spreading across his face. “She’ll finish Academy before Christmas, and then, in the spring, she’ll take her EMT training. She hopes to get a job in the department and pursue paramedic training, too.”
“She’s on the fast track. I hope she gets in,” Cassandra said. “I need a few more sisters to work with. Hanging out with you wankers has its limits.” She tapped Jackson’s biceps with her fist. “Too much testosterone.”
Jackson chuckled as he approached the bus.
“Morning gentlemen and lady,” the bus driver, a scrawny, wrinkled-face man named Josiah said from his position near the luggage carrier at the side of the bus. He wore a light khaki-colored uniform and black boots. He’d driven them here from their station and was driving them and a couple other crews in the region back home.
“Good morning, Josiah,” Cassandra said. She strode toward him, removing her gear bag from her shoulder.
He picked up her red bag and heaved it under the bus. “Good sirs, can I take your luggage?”
“Sure,” Jackson said.
“Of course,” Griffin said.
Jackson set his bag down and reached for the phone in his shirt pocket. His fingers came up empty. “Shit. Where’s my phone? I think I set it down in the finance office. Be right back.”
“No rush,” Josiah said. “We’ve got nineteen more firefighters to load. We’ll still be here.” He smiled, revealing two gaps on the right side of his jaw where premolars once sat.
“I’ll save you a seat,” Griffin said. “I need a shoulder to sleep on.”
Jackson scoffed and shook his head. “Dream on.”
He grinned and raced away toward the finance trailer. As he jogged along the dry grass and parched soil, he thought about his plans to ask for Blaire’s hand in marriage. He had a big idea in place. He hoped he could pull it off.
He couldn’t wait to seal the deal. They’d worked hard to get to where they were. Creating a formal commitment seemed like the next step to take.
Once he stood outside the white-sided trailed, he rapped on the door with his knuckles.
“Come in,” George Ahlberg called.
George was an older man who’d worked in fire camp finance for as long as Jackson could remember. His pate was nearly bald, but he made up for it with a bold gray and brown mustache.
Jackson opened the door to the stuffy trailer.
George sat at his desk, his armpits ringed with sweat, talking to a chunky firefighter whom Jackson didn’t recognize.
Jackson nodded to the firefighter, turned to George, and opened his mouth to speak, but George beat him to it.
George slid out a desk drawer and pulled out Jackson’s white phone. “Forget something?”
“Yes, thanks,” Jackson said, reaching for it. “Gotta get back to the bus. We’ll be leaving in a few.”
George and the other firefighter nodded. “Flip the fan on for me, will you?”
Jackson leaned over and flicked the switch on the large, portable fan facing George’s desk.
“Much better,” George said with a sigh. “Thanks.”
Jackson nodded and exited the trailer. As he beelined toward the bus, he spied a pale green bus bearing the words “Convict Crew” in bold black letters along the side.
A group of convicts clad in orange jumpsuits, marched single file toward the bus, carrying their firefighting tools.
Jackson directed his gaze straight ahead. He knew not to make ey
e contact with convict workers. Rules dictated no one talked to, looked at, or even acknowledged the convict workers.
A weird sensation prickled the back of his neck. He reached back to rub it and turned around. His eyes met Jake’s, and his head jerked back in surprise.
Jake, shuffling along with his fellow convicts, glanced away and then risked another look.
For one long second, Jackson studied his brother. He wondered how Jake had been allowed on a firefighting team at all, since he’d started the Sun-A-Do fire, and arsonists were not allowed to fight fires. Maybe he caught some leniency for good behavior? Don’t know, don’t care. Not my problem.
Jake looked gaunt, but fitter than Jackson had ever seen him. One tiny corner of Jackson’s heart pushed through all the hurt, disappointment, and betrayal he carried, radiating pride that his brother had joined the convict team. He gave the barest of nods and then broke eye contact, lest anyone saw him. After that, he hurried away.
As he stepped on the bus, a sense of completion fell over him. He realized seeing his brother doing something meaningful had allowed him to let go of a shitload of bitter resentment. A curious peace settled in his heart. He’d learned how to create good boundaries for himself, even though it hurt like hell some days. He’d learned to be open and honest with Blaire. He’d come to terms with his past, accepting it as best he could. And, he had the best damn dogs, the best damn job, and the best damn relationship any man could hope for. Jackson O’Halloran considered himself a lucky man.
One chapter truly ending, only to start another with Blaire.
It only seemed fitting to continue to save lives, with the love of his life by his side, and give back to the community that had given him so much. After all, true to her word, Blaire had buffed and polished his heart to glory. And for that, he owed her the world.
Epilogue
In April of the following year, Jackson stood at the simple willow archway his firefighter family had erected at the beach overlooking the waves. A light breeze tossed his hair about his face, destroying the look he’d worked hard at creating with a product from Blaire’s former salon, Hip Hip Hairay. His gaze was directed away from the waves, at the stunning woman stepping toward him, between family and friends all seated in wooden chairs.
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