Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(50)

“I hate to leave you this way,” he said, cupping her cheek and stepping close. God. The fear in her eyes was killing him. But he had to go. He had no choice.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice strangled as she turned away from him. “Go. They need you.”

“I’ll text you when I can,” he said, and headed toward his truck at a dead run. Thankfully, he wasn’t leaving her without a vehicle. She’d had to come down early to do some things around the house for her parents, so he’d met her at the house when his last—thankfully uneventful—shift was over.

As he cranked the engine, he caught sight of her just past the trees. She was standing by the water’s edge, her head in her hands. Jacques was on his hind paws, scratching at her leg.

Damn it, this was not how this weekend was supposed to go.

His heart was lead in his chest as he stepped on the accelerator and drove in the one direction he didn’t want to be going.

Away from her.



Everly was pretty damn proud of herself for not crying. It was a very close thing, though. Every time she thought about Drake charging headfirst into the aftermath of an explosion, flames surging all around him, her throat closed up and her eyes stung. But she swallowed the fear, shook her head, and straightened her spine.

She wished things were different. That he was an accountant, or a retail store manager, or even a busboy. Something safe. But he wasn’t. He was a firefighter, and his career would always be deadly.

Could she really handle this?

She’d thought he’d been about to say something important. Something like, “I love you.” And she’d been ready. She knew her heart now, and it was set on Drake.

But he’d left her arms and run straight into danger.

“We’ll be okay,” Everly said to Jacques, who was still pawing at her leg. Of any dog she’d ever had, the little poodle was the most sensitive to her moods. Even Jo-Jo, as awesome as she was, hadn’t been as in-tune to her emotional state. Every crying jag she’d had for the last four years had been right beside that curly-haired little dog, and now she bent down to scratch his ears. “I’m sorry for getting upset. Everything will be fine.”

There was a decisive “hmmmph” from Gossamer, who clearly thought Everly was lying. Arrow was silent on the matter, as usual.

“Come on, guys. Let’s at least finish our walk.”

Everly and the dogs took their time down by the waterfront, long past when the fiery red sun sank past the horizon, and the sky had faded from orange to pink to lavender to navy. As they headed back toward the house, Everly looked up at the faint white stars.

She’d wanted to share this place with him, since it was one of her favorite spots in the whole world. But was it wise to give so much of herself to a man who ran headfirst into danger? Could her heart handle this long-term?

It already felt too late. She didn’t know what to do. Hang in there for the long run, or cut her losses and try her best to get over him?

Her feelings were hopelessly tangled, and she had no idea which string to pluck to even begin to unravel them.

Her cell chimed softly in her pocket, and she reached for it. Just at that moment, a hissing sound startled her and she jerked her gaze upward.

A cat was standing on the boat slip, its hackles raised as Arrow’s head whipped around to find it.

“No, Arrow,” Everly cried, tightening her grip on the leash as the greyhound lunged for the cat. She dug her heels into the sandy bank as Arrow began barking like mad.

If it had been just Arrow—even though the greyhound weighed a solid eighty-five pounds—she’d have been fine. Even with Jacques barking and jerking at his lead too, Everly could have managed. But when Gossamer decided to throw herself into the let’s-get-the-cat brigade, the tipping point was reached and Everly found herself on the losing side of the battle. Her commands were ignored as the dogs went on the chase.

Arms straining, feet skidding on the loose sand and small stones of the beach, Everly held onto all three leashes as tightly as she could. The cat took off toward the end of the dock, and the dogs followed, dragging Everly into the shallows. A sudden lunge by Arrow sent Everly face-first into the water.

Gasping, coughing, Everly struggled to her feet and jerked the leashes back. “Leave it,” she commanded, the demand in her voice was backed by some serious pissed-off. With the cat out of sight now, Arrow and Jacques remembered that they had manners and meekly turned to face her. Gossamer was still straining at the end of the leash, bug eyes alight with excitement as her pudgy body trembled.

Everly wrangled the dogs back into the house, using the mudroom at the side of the house instead of the patio entrance she and Drake had come out of earlier. The small shower in the room, usually used for rinsing off after swimming in the lake, doubled as an excellent dog washing station, and Everly made use of it to clean the dogs from their adventure.

Once there were three wet—but much better smelling, except for Gossamer—dogs, Everly set them free in the house to dry. Peeling her own wet clothes off, Everly heard a thunk as she dropped her wet jeans into the washer. What was that? She reached into the soggy pocket.

“Shit,” she said, pulling her cell phone free. With a silent prayer to whoever might be listening, she tried to power it on.

Nope. Completely dead. Drowned.

She tossed it atop the dryer and stepped into the shower. She’d shove it in a bag of rice and head to the cell phone store tomorrow if that didn’t work. As steam rose around her, she wrapped her arms around her naked body and looked over at that lifeless hunk of plastic.