Renovation (A Golden Beach Novel) Page 17

  Lena made a face and wrinkled her nose. “No. There’s some sparkling wine in the fridge, but that’s all we’ve got cold.”

  “I’ll find something,” he yelled from the kitchen.

  Valerie eyed Lena suspiciously. “You two seem very . . . comfortable.”

  Lena’s cheeks reddened and she turned away, mumbling something under her breath as she left the room.

  “What was that about?” Donovan asked, an armload of boxes obscuring him from view.

  She shrugged and grabbed her suitcase, lugging it behind her. After loading all of her worldly possessions into the trunk of her car, the two of them made their way back to the apartment. Lena and Michael were waiting with filled champagne flutes, his arm around her, holding her tight to him.

  “Champagne?” Valerie asked, a little skeptical of such a grand send-off.

  “Well, we’re toasting to you two, the beginning of your life in sin, and to us.” Lena’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes twinkled.

  “Okay.” Valerie grabbed a flute and handed it to Donovan. “To us and them.”

  Lena handed her a glass and it was then that Valerie saw the new and very large diamond gracing her friend’s all-important ring finger.

  “Lena?”

  Lena looked into Michael’s eyes, an almost intoxicated grin on her beautiful face.

  She turned to Valerie and held up her left hand. “We got married!”

  Valerie looked at Donovan, then back to her friend. “Congratulations?” She tried to keep the question out of her voice.

  Donovan saved her from herself by wrapping her in his arms and kissing her. He pulled away and whispered, “Just go with it.”

  She nodded and hugged Lena and Michael both. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “When did you guys do this?” Donovan asked. He somehow managed to stay cool and casual while her anxiety and worry kicked into high gear.

  Lena and Michael looked at each other and she gestured for him to answer.

  “Vegas.”

  Valerie’s eyebrows rose. “You mean you’ve been married for two weeks and didn’t tell me?”

  Lena had the grace to look guilty. “In all fairness, I’ve barely seen you. And, we wanted to wait until you were moving to tell you. I didn’t want you to feel like you needed to rush to get out.”

  “Lena, I . . .” Her words died on her tongue. Lena was right. She would have felt like she needed to leave right away. “I can’t believe you’re married.”

  Lena grinned. “I know. Isn’t it amazing?”

  She didn’t know if it was amazing or reckless so she answered by hugging her friend again and downing her champagne.

  “I didn’t think you’d actually be using this bedroom, sweetheart.” Donovan peeked around the door to Valerie’s new bedroom in the apartment they now shared.

  “Well, I didn’t think I’d get any sleep if I stayed in your bed.” She’d been here less than seventy-two hours and he’d had her on practically every surface in the tidy apartment. She’d never be able to look at the kitchen counters the same way again.

  He winked. “You’re welcome.”

  She laughed at his rakish attitude and threw a pillow at his head. “I didn’t say thank you.”

  “You will later.”

  The mood quickly changed from light to white hot. Was this normal? Were they going to spend all of their time together naked, in bed, in the shower, against the wall? She grinned, that didn’t really seem so bad. She could think of worse ways to spend her time.

  “I’ve got duty today.” He pulled her off the bed and into the living room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee warmed her.

  Her chest tightened at the thought of him being in danger. She’d experienced him being on duty plenty of times before, but this time there’d be a constant reminder that he was gone.

  “Be careful.”

  “I always am, sweetheart. I’ll be fine.”

  As she sipped her coffee, she watched him dress for the station. His muscles moved enticingly as he pulled on his blue uniform shirt. A shot of lust ran through her, matched by the answering wave of love that crashed into her when his eyes landed on hers.

  “You like a man in uniform?”

  She shook her head. “I like you.”

  He snatched up a piece of toast and held it between his teeth while he tied his shoes.

  “What are you going to do tonight, you know, for the Fourth?” he asked, as he polished off the last of his toast.

  “Oh, I’m going to my parents’ house. Brandon wants to shoot off some bottle rockets and Asher wants to go watch the fireworks on the beach. I’ll probably stay in with Riley. He hates the loud noises, so we’ll do our usual puzzles and card games.”

  He cupped her face in his hand. “Be careful. The last thing I want is to have to respond to another call where you are. I almost lost my shit at the bar and we weren’t even together yet.”

  “Will do. I’m just watching. I don’t like blowing things up.”

  He winked. “I do. Tell Brandon and Asher that next year I won’t be working, so I’ll take them out for a real pyrotechnics experience.”

  Her heart jumped in her chest. Next year. He was planning on them still being together this time next year.

  He glanced at his phone and cursed. “I’m late. I gotta go, sweetheart.”

  He pulled her in for a searing kiss, leaving her breathless and wanting more.

  Chapter 21

  The siren cut off as they pulled up to the scene. Another old barn, so similar to the one where John had died. The Fourth of July was always busy, but these abandoned buildings were usually structurally unsafe, filled with old fertilizer bags, pesticides, and all kinds of explosives. You’d have to be an idiot to set off fireworks out here. Clearly, whoever did this was an idiot, or a teenager, probably both.

  Panic bloomed in Donovan’s chest, working its way around with a vise grip. He reminded himself to breathe, to focus. This was not the same call, things were different this time. Sully clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a concerned look.

  “D, you good, man?”

  He nodded, took another steadying breath, and stepped out of the rig. His teeth hurt, the muscles in his jaw screamed for him to relax, but he was in control. He could do this. He had to do this. His mantra ran through his head as he secured his bunker gear and readied himself to assess the building.

  “I hate the Fourth of fucking July,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Okay, boys. Word is, there’ve been squatters in the structure. We’ve gotta sweep the interior and make sure it’s clear. You tread carefully, watch for any sign of instability.” The station’s Incident Coordinator’s voice sounded thin through the radio.

  “Copy that, Marks. We’ve got no flame visible from the exterior, just a lot of black smoke.” Sully grabbed his ax and a hose while Donovan checked his own gear and secured his breathing apparatus.

  His heart pounded in his chest, his breathing was loud with the SCBA gear on, but it was that or breathe in poisonous black smoke. He’d choose SCBA any day.

  He led as they entered the barn. “Left wall search,” he called to Sully.

  They started moving clockwise around the building, searching for signs of flames, any area where the structure seemed unsafe, and of course, looking for people. He sent up a silent prayer that no one was inside this death trap. Crouching along the outer walls as they moved through, one hand against the wall for stability, he put a foot out in front to sweep for bodies. The smoke was so thick, even the light from his flashlight struggled to break through.

  His toe nudged something; something solid, but pliable. He knew with a deep and terrible certainty what it was. He leaned down to check the victim, and the familiar black and yell
ow colors of bunker gear came into view. A hum started in his ears as John’s face appeared, burned and blistered. No, no. This is not real. He stood to clear his head. When he looked back, the space was empty—no body.

  He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself as he spoke into the radio. “Search complete, all clear.”

  As they moved back through the building, Sully started reporting the conditions and asking for additional mechanical ventilation to clear the smoke while they searched for the flames.

  “Miller, Sullivan, we’ve got visible flames from the roof, looks like the fire is still burning in the loft,” Chief Roman’s voice came through the radio.

  “Loft?” Donovan hadn’t seen stairs that would lead to a loft, but then he saw it—a ladder—leading up to a square entrance.

  Sully climbed cautiously up the ladder while Donovan held it secure.

  “It’s hot up here. The whole loft is burning, but it’s wide open, no sign of anyone. I can’t get inside to sweep it, though.”

  Sully came back down and motioned for them to head back to the engine. The buzzing in Donovan’s ears intensified as he walked behind his partner. As Sully turned to face him, Donovan’s breathing became erratic, his chest constricted. John stood in front of him, blocking the exit and screaming in agony, flames engulfing him.

  Donovan’s feet were glued to the barn floor. He felt his knees give way as panic overtook him.

  “Miller! Miller, what happened?” Sully ran back to him, trying to help in any way he could.

  “We have to get John. We have to get him out. He’s burning.

  “What? Did you see someone in there?” Sully looked over his shoulder, back at the loft.

  “He’s dying.” He watched John as his breathing labored and his eyes glazed over.

  Sully raced back toward the loft and Donovan worked to control himself, the flashback becoming less and less real. John hadn’t been on fire when he died, he hadn’t screamed. It had been instantaneous and painless, the doctor had said.

  A loud crack and a deep groan of wood giving way turned his head. Sully stood under the supporting beam of the loft, his head raised as he inspected the noise.

  “Sully, run!” Donovan screamed as his friend bolted.

  Sully was fast, but not fast enough to escape as the burning wood rained down on him.

  “Mayday, mayday, mayday. Firefighter down. Hit by falling beam approximately one hundred feet in during the left wall search,” Donovan barked into his radio.

  “Sully, can you hear me?” He could see Sully moving under the smoldering wood and quickly put out the flames.

  “I’m stuck. I’ve got a fucking burning beam on my ass. Get me the fuck out of here, Donovan.”

  A rapid incident crew burst in to tend to Sully. “The RIC is here. They’ll get you, man. You’re gonna be okay.”

  Sully was hurt badly, but he was alive. He was cursing and shouting at the paramedics as they loaded him into the ambulance to transport him to Golden Beach General.

  Back at the station, Donovan watched the last of the fireworks over the beach, a cold knot sitting heavy in his stomach. This was bad. Sully could have died because of him. He wasn’t in any kind of shape to be leading a crew or running into burning buildings. His knees gave out and he sat on the ground, hard. The memory of the night John died burned into his brain.

  “D? You okay?” Klipper, ever the easy going guy, knelt down and looked him in the eye.

  His breaths came in thin pants as the panic attack gripped him for the second time that day. The roar of his pulse pounded in his ears, mixed with the sound of tortured screams. Someone was shaking him, slapping his face. His breathing eased and the screaming subsided, leaving a raw feeling in his throat. The tortured screams were coming from him.

  Chief Roman, Klipper, and Michael all stood around him, eyes wide and faces concerned. He struggled to stand and shook his head, unable to meet their eyes. Chief Roman gestured for him to follow and walked back to his office.

  “How long has this been happening, Miller?” Chief Roman’s voice was calm and measured. The kind of voice you use to steady an insane person.

  “I . . . A few weeks, a month maybe.”

  “You should have come to me as soon as it started happening again. Michael’s here to cover your shift. Take a few days, make an appointment with your shrink.”

  His teeth ached from forceful clenching and unclenching as he worked to keep himself under control.

  “I want you good and solid, Donovan. You can’t put yourself or your crew at risk out there.”

  He nodded and muttered, “I understand, sir.”

  “Sully’s going to be out of commission a few weeks at least. He’ll be okay, Miller.”

  “Did he tell you what happened?”

  Chief Roman’s eyes were haunted. “Yes. You had a flashback from the night we lost John. Sully thought you saw someone in the building and ran back. That was when the structure collapsed.”

  Donovan raked a hand through his hair and breathed deeply. Hearing what happened, repeated so tersely, caused a wave of nausea to rise. He had to bite his cheek to keep it at bay.

  “Get out of here. Get some rest and get your head in a good place. I’ll see you back on shift next week.”

  Donovan nodded and turned to leave.

  “Miller, it’s going to get better.” Chief Roman’s voice broke on the last word.

  “Is it?” he asked, as he closed the door and walked away.

  The sound of the front door opening and closing woke Valerie from an uneasy sleep. She jumped up from the couch, heart hammering in her chest. She looked around the still unfamiliar apartment for some kind of blunt object. The only light came from the television, stuck on the Netflix menu screen which was asking, Are you still watching? She’d fallen asleep while binge-watching Doctor Who and longing for her British TV marathons with Grace. A moment of panic set in at the sound of heavy boots hitting the hallway. She grabbed a large vase from the mantle, holding it high above her head, and tip-toed toward the hall.

  As she readied herself to strike, the hall light came on and Donovan’s shocked face showed in the flood of light.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  She lowered the vase, adrenaline pumping through her. “What the fuck are you doing? You’re supposed to be at work.”

  “I got off early.” His eyes were dark, haunted, and in the stark light his skin held an unsettling paleness.

  “What’s the matter?”

  He slipped out of his boots and flipped on the light in the living room. “You thought I was a burglar?” When she nodded, he chuckled and gestured toward the vase. “And you thought my grandma would be a good way to take me out?”

  “Your grandma?” She looked down at the vase in her hands, which now, clearly appeared to be an urn. Mortification set in, causing a hot flush to creep up her cheeks.

  He gently took the urn from her and placed it back on the mantle. “It’s okay. Grandma would have done the same thing. She was one tough lady.”

  She wrapped herself in him as soon as his hands were free. He smelled like wood smoke and sweat.

  “I need a shower, sweetheart. I smell like a campfire.”

  He clasped her hands in his and freed himself from her. She tried not to let it get to her, wanting to keep contact, but he wiggled from her grasp.

  “Rain check? I’ll go shower and we can pick this back up.”

  She nodded as the threads of a plan began to weave together. Donovan naked, soapy, and wet. There were so many wonderful possibilities. She puttered around the living room, tidying up in an attempt to give him time. She dumped her mug of half-drunk hot cocoa into the sink, folded the blanket she’d snuggled up in, all the while listening for the sound of the shower.

/>   He’d left the door to the bathroom ajar, a sliver of light breaking through the dark of the master bedroom. Her ears picked up the unmistakable sound of water cascading from the shower head and hitting the tile floor beneath. She wanted to give him enough time to shuck off his clothes and settle under the spray of water, but not so much that she missed out on washing him. The act of washing a person was as intimate as it got for her.

  He stood in the glass encased shower, steam billowing and swirling around his tall and lean muscled frame. Her heart thudded in her chest as she watched him, head down, letting the spray of water pour over his hair and into his face. Bright red streaks ran down his skin where the water hit him. She slipped off her pajamas and opened the shower door, immediately aware of the stream of too-hot water as the steam hit her face.

  “Sweetheart, what are you doing?” he murmured, his head still down, breathing heavy.

  “Saving your skin, it appears.”

  He tensed as she reached past him for the temperature control and turned it down.

  “You’re scalding yourself.”

  Eyes still averted, he snorted. “I like it hot.”

  She pushed her way into the water and he moved aside, raising his face, but still keeping his eyes from hers.

  “I want to wash you. Where’s your shampoo?”

  He met her eyes, startling her with their lost, panicked look.

  “Donovan?”

  “I . . . I can’t breathe.” He backed up against the tile and slid down to the floor, his breaths coming fast and hard.

  She knelt in between his knees, the fact that they were both completely naked didn’t even register.

  “Calm down. What happened?”

  He shook his head and gripped his thighs so hard his knuckles turned white. His eyes rolled wildly in his head as his attention darted from wall to wall.