Fragile Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 4)

by Amber Kelly

Walker looks at me. “That came out of nowhere. They weren’t calling for bad weather tonight. It was supposed to start tomorrow evening.”

  “It was moving fast. It’ll blow over soon,” I assume.

  Ten minutes later, the rain stops, and the sky clears.

  I open the door and walk back to Elle’s door.

  “Switch with me, sweetheart,” I tell her, and I help her out and into the front with Walker.

  She scoots across the bench seat to him, and he wraps her in his arm before he pulls out of the parking lot.

  I pull Bellamy’s back into me, and I wrap both arms around her to warm her.

  “Better?” I ask in her ear.

  “I want doughnuts.”

  That’s her answer, and it tells me all I need to know. She’s good. And I’m getting her doughnuts.

  I ask Walker if he knows of any doughnut shops open anywhere. He drives us all the way to Aurora to Winchell’s Doughnut House, which is open twenty-four seven. The girls don’t want to go inside because they are soaking wet, so I go in and buy two-dozen assorted doughnuts and four cups of coffee.

  When we make it back to Poplar Falls, Walker drives us to town and drops us at my SUV. Bellamy climbs in with her Winchell’s box.

  I start the ignition and get the heat going. Then, I head toward her house. When we make it to Stoney Ridge, she doesn’t move to get out. She just waits for me to do or say something. I reach and take the box from her, and I set it on the dash. Then, I chuckle, and she turns to me in surprise.

  I wipe the powdered sugar from the corner of her mouth with my thumb, and then I bring it to my mouth and suck it off.

  Her eyes widen as she watches me. Then, she darts up and wraps her arms around my neck. I pull her in close, and my mouth finds hers. Her kiss is urgent and needy as the stress exits her body, and desire takes its place. I know I can’t satisfy her in my truck in front of her parents’ home. I want to. I want to watch her splinter as I give her what she needs. Instead, I kiss her hard. Then, I pull away and kiss her nose and her eyes and her forehead as I caress her back.

  She sighs as she leans back and opens her eyes. “I’m sorry about the freak-out. I don’t know where it comes from, but lightning is one thing I don’t do. Give me five feet of snow any day over a heat-seeking, cracking electrical current.”

  “Being afraid is nothing to be sorry about. We all have our triggers. I bet studying environmental science contributed to this fear.”

  “Yep. You should have seen the videos they showed us. Lightning striking a fuel hauler while they were driving down the road or entering someone’s bay windows and flowing through the oven before zapping them as they removed a pan. It also causes forest fires that spread beyond control. It’s awful. Plus, I was traumatized by a fire lightning caused at my grandparents’ when I was a little girl.”

  She starts to explain when the porch light clicks on. I know that Winston was waiting for her, and he saw the minute we pulled in. He has been giving us a little more alone time each time I drop her off.

  “I guess that’s my cue.” She stops her story short.

  I jump out to open her door, and I grab the box before leading her to the front door. Winston raises an eyebrow at her drowned appearance.

  “The bottom fell out on us, Poppy,” she says.

  “I can see that.”

  “I’m going to take a shower.” She turns to me. “Thank you, Doc.”

  “Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” I tell her before she disappears.

  The door shuts behind her, and Winston turns back to me.

  “Appreciate you getting her home safe again, Brandt.”

  I don’t answer. I just hand him the box.

  He reads the name on the top, and he grins hugely.

  “Good man, Brandt,” he says sincerely. “You’re a good man.”

  Bellamy

  I spend most of Saturday in bed with a cold. Momma made me homemade chicken soup and kept bringing me ginger ale and medication. I know I’m technically an adult, but when I don’t feel well, all I want is my momma. Her presence alone makes me feel better.

  I finally start to feel human again at around six o’clock. In my pajamas, I get up and make my way to the couch with a fuzzy blanket.

  Momma and Pop rode over to Myer’s to see Faith, and the house is too quiet. I click on the television and surf until I find the ID channel. My roomie and I got addicted to true-crime stories when I was in Chicago. I find something comforting about watching murder. Nope, doesn’t make any sense, but it’s true.

  I snuggle in and get lost in a show about a football player who killed his best friend for vague reasons.

  The phone rings, and I answer.

  “Hey, Bellamy. I just wanted to call and check on you. Your mom said you were sick,” Dallas says.

  I can hear Pop talking gibberish to Faith in the background.

  “I’m a little better. Just taking it easy.”

  “I have some leftover chicken potpie from dinner, if you want me to wrap it up for you.”

  Dallas and her mom make the best chicken potpie in the world. She knows it’s my favorite.

  “Yes, please,” I answer when thunder rolls outside. “Dang it. It’s thundering here,” I say.

  “This weather has been nuts. The storms cause Cowboy to have a panic attack. Good thing Brandt is here to see it this time.”

  “Brandt is there?”

  “Yeah, apparently, he didn’t make it to Cowboy’s appointment on Monday, so he offered to come and give him his shots today,” she explains.

  “Right. That’s thoughtful.”

  Thunder rumbles again, and the sky lights up outside.

  “So, I’ll throw in some muffins too, and …” Dallas keeps talking, but I don’t hear anything else.

  There is a strange glow in the front yard, so I walk to the door with the phone still to my ear.

  The barn. The barn is on fire. No.

  “The barn. Shit, Dallas, the horses,” I cry over her.

  “What?”

  “The barn is on fire. I have to go.” The last thing I hear is Dallas screaming for Myer. I drop the phone and take off running toward the barn.

  The fire is spreading rapidly, and I can hear the fearful cries of the horses as I approach. Pop and Foster stalled them because the storms were coming.

  I get to the door, and it’s warm to the touch. I wrap my hand in my pajama top and reach for the handle. I can feel the metal burning my hand through the fabric.

  I race into the engulfed barn without thought. I grab a saddle blanket from a hook near the door and wrap it around me as I run to the stalls. I can hear the horses’ panicked whinnies, and I make my way to the last door and fling it open first. The mare bucks up on her hind legs in fear, and I grab her rein and tug. She finally comes out of the stall. I slap her rear, and she bolts for the door. I go to the next door, fling it open, and repeat. And then the next.

  The flames are dancing higher, and wood is falling from the roof. I try to hold my breath as long as I can, but my body involuntarily inhales on one of my cries, and my lungs fill with smoke. I make it to the final door as Pop, Myer, Truett, and Brandt come skidding into the blazing building, screaming my name. Pop spots me and comes running.

  “Ali!” I yell.

  “We’ll get him,” he promises as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me out into the fresh air. The boys search the barn and free the last of the horses safely from their stall. I thankfully see the colt stagger out ahead of his mother.

  Once we clear the threshold, I stumble and fall to my backside in the gravel, sputtering and coughing. Relieved to know Ali made it out.

  Momma comes running to my side.

  “Oh, Bellamy, are you okay, sweetheart?” she asks, panicked.

  I just nod as tears flood my vision to soothe my stinging eyes.

  Sirens fill the air around us as two fire trucks come barreling through the gate.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Momma mut
ters.

  “You got her?” Pop asks, and she nods to him.

  He takes off jogging to meet the firemen.

  Myer, Brandt, and Truett emerge from the back of the barn, and Brandt heads straight for me. I sit up and take the water bottle Momma offers.

  His wild eyes comb the length of me from head to toe.

  Then, he begins to pace. Running his hands through his hair over and over.

  “Brandt,” I call to him, my voice hoarse.

  He stops and looks at me. “You ran into a burning building,” he says angrily.

  “I-I had to get the horses out. They were trapped in there,” I begin to explain.

  “You saw the barn was on fire, and you ran to it and went in. Into a fire.”

  “Brandt, son,” Pop calls to him.

  “You could have died, Bellamy,” he continues.

  “I didn’t. I’m right here,” I remind him.

  “You could have been killed. You ran into a fucking building that was on fire,” he roars.

  I look up to Momma for help.

  “Brandt, come here.” She pats the ground between us.

  He looks from the spot to her and then to me.

  “I have to go,” he mutters, more to himself than to us.

  “Okay,” I say.

  He looks at me one last time, and then he stomps off to the driveway behind the fire trucks.

  Tears prick my eyes … or is it rain?

  The sky opens up, and the rain starts to pour. I just sit there and let it soak me again as I watch the firemen fight to put out the flames. They cheer when the rain shows up, aiding their efforts.

  Brandt

  I pull into the house. I’m too worked up to go home to the apartment. I slam the truck door and walk to the entrance. The rain is beating down on me.

  I fumble with my keys in the dark until I find the one I’m searching for, and I let myself in. I click on the light and look around. So much progress has been made. New windows were cut and installed this week. Bellamy was right; the natural light makes all the difference. The kitchen is modern and functional yet oddly still fits with the Colonial feel of the two-hundred-fifty-year-old home. It’s perfect on the surface, but inside, it’s empty. Just like me.

  Seeing Bellamy running from the burning barn and collapsing on the ground shook me in a way I hadn’t thought was possible anymore. The feeling of absolute uselessness suffocated me as I hid in my SUV and watched as the ambulance pulled off with her and her mother inside.

  Fuck. How did I get here again?

  I kick off my shoes, and I make my way upstairs. I empty my pockets, and then I pull my soggy clothes off and drop them on the tiled floor of the bathroom. I turn back, and I practically face-plant on the bed, naked.

  I lie there a long while and listen to the rain against the roof. Then, I climb under the covers and fall asleep.

  I walk up on the scene once again. The same one that plays through my mind most nights. I stand helplessly as I watch Annie pulling on her coat as she leaves the restaurant in a huff and starts to walk out to the parking lot. My attention snaps to the dumpster on the left, and I brace for what is coming next as a shadowy figure huddles close to it, watching her as she opens her purse and starts fishing for her keys.

  Look up, Annie. Look at your surroundings.

  She finds the keys and clicks the button to unlock the car doors.

  No, don’t do that. Don’t unlock them until you are there.

  She swipes at the angry tears falling from her lashes.

  I look at her beautiful, sad face one last time before it happens.

  The dark figure stands and runs to the passenger side of her car. She is distracted by her phone—by my text messages—and she doesn’t see him.

  Look up, Annie, please.

  The man comes around the car, and he dives for her. He latches on to her purse handle that is on her shoulder and yanks.

  Don’t fight him. Let him take it. Let him have whatever he wants. None of it means anything.

  She grabs for the purse and starts to struggle with him. She tugs the strap back on to her shoulder, and it slips from his hand. She backs away from him. A look of pure terror on her face.

  Scream, Annie. Scream and cause a scene, anything to get attention, and he’ll flee.

  She does none of that. She just stares at him in shock.

  He runs for her as he pulls a switchblade from the pocket of his dirty coat, and he stabs her in the stomach. She goes down to a knee. Still holding on to the purse. He pulls the knife back and wildly slashes in the air.

  That’s when I arrive, and I watch as he slits my Annie’s throat from ear to ear. She lets go, and her hands go up to hold the slash. He yanks the purse free of her and takes off behind the restaurant.

  I race to her, screaming for help and for someone to call 911. When I make it to her, I pull her head and shoulders into my lap while pleading with her not to leave me. I lean down to kiss her head, and suddenly, it’s not Annie. It’s not her throat slit from ear to ear.

  It’s Bellamy.

  Her eyes staring at me as she gurgles blood.

  Dying in my arms.

  I wake with a start, covered in sweat with my heart pounding. Victim to a new nightmare.

  Bellamy

  The fireman insists I go to the emergency room to be checked out. When I arrive, my oxygen levels are low, and my lungs and throat are irritated due to the heat and smoke I have inhaled. I also suffer from a few small burns to my forearms, palms, and neck.

  I’m admitted, and they give me oxygen and nebulizer treatments to help my lungs recover.

  My voice is gone. Just gone.

  I panic when I wake up and can’t talk because I think it’s permanent. I fight the nurses and Momma, who is sleeping at the hospital with me. Refusing to leave her daughter alone. I rip out my IV and start bleeding everywhere, so once they get me to settle down; they make the decision to medicate me more heavily to keep me calm and pain-free while I heal.

  Everyone in Poplar Falls comes through my room for the next two days. And I do mean everyone, except for Brandt. Even Miss Elaine stops in. Pop Lancaster and Jefferson just happen to be dropping off flowers when she arrives. Pop sits down beside her, and they strike up a conversation. One that lasts a couple of hours. Long after Jefferson has left. I kind of feel like a voyeur as they chat, and I doze on and off.

  Brandt sends his regards through his mother as well as a lovely bouquet of white tulips, however he is extremely busy and can’t make it by.

  On day two, a ridiculously huge bouquet of silver roses—my favorite—are delivered, and I cry, thinking they must be from Brandt as well, but it turns out, they are from Derrick. I have had him blocked for over a month, but apparently, he has continued to call my parents’ house. Momma has been effectively blowing him off for weeks, per my request, but Pop answered while we were both at the hospital and told him everything.

  “I don’t want them. Give them to my nurse,” I tell the delivery lady when I read the card.

  I still can’t believe Brandt hasn’t come to see me. I miss him. I’ve called his cell a couple of times, but it goes straight to voice mail, and I don’t leave a message.

  I figure I’m just overreacting. He knows I’m good. He was there that night, and it obviously freaked him out. It’s only been a few days.

  By the time they release me, I’m so over the hospital. I’m fine. I want to go home, and I make that perfectly clear to anyone within earshot.

  I think they finally cut me loose just so they don’t have to hear it any longer.

  Lightning was determined to be the cause of the barn fire. It had somehow struck into a crack on the roof or come through the tiny window to the loft and ignited the bales of hay stored in there.

  Damn lightning.

  I won’t be scared of it any longer though. I went toe to toe with its wrath and defeated it.

  Pop and Myer salvaged what they could from the fire, and they already have t
he framing done for the new and improved barn.

  Jefferson Lancaster has offered to temporarily store anything we need and help tend to our horses until we can raise our new barn.

  Once I’m home, I take it easy for another week as Momma fusses over me nonstop.

  Still no word from Brandt.

  I finally leave the house to go to Sophie’s for a party-planning meeting.

  The party is happening this weekend, and every detail needs to be finalized.

  When I get back home, Momma informs me I have a message on the answering machine. My heart skips at the hope that it’s Brandt, but why would he call the house and not my cell?

  I press play, and it’s Dr. Singh’s office from the Denver Zoo, asking me to call as soon as possible.

  I jot the number down and head to my room.

  To my surprise, when I return the call, I’m patched through to Dr. Singh himself.

  “Bellamy, I’m so glad you got back to me. I realize this is short notice, and that’s why I wanted to reach out to you personally. The animal nutritionist position has just opened back up, and we’d like to offer it to you, if you are still available.”

  I don’t reply as I roll this information over in my mind.

  “I was told you’d chosen someone else,” I say in answer.

  “The board did, yes. They decided to go with a grad student, but the applicant reached out to us a couple of days ago and rescinded his acceptance. You were always my first choice, so I called you as soon as I was notified. I’d love to have you on my staff.”

  This is amazing. It’s what I’ve wanted all along. So, why do I feel like crying?

  “Bellamy? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. When would you need me in Denver?” I ask.

  “I had hoped to have someone here by the end of August, but since that is days away, I’m hoping you can start by mid-September. Can you have your affairs in order and get moved by then?” he asks.

  Yes! I scream at myself internally to respond.

  “Do you need an answer right this minute? Because I’d like to talk to my family first, if that’s okay,” I ask instead.