Beautiful Sacrifice (The Maddox Brothers, #3)(86)

Chuck nodded to his wife, and then she dipped her head.

“All right. Kirby, you’re on server duty. I’ll help.”

Kirby pushed through the double doors, going straight over to the tables. I tended to the hostess station, bussing tables and cleaning the floor between customers.

A family came in—a father with tattoo sleeves on both arms, the mother with no tattoos, and two girls and a boy, all three kids under six. The youngest, maybe six months, was snuggled against his mother in a Boba Wrap as he slept, and I choked back the unexpected emotions that seeing him induced.

I seated them at the back table where Taylor had been seated for the last two months and handed them menus. “Kirby will be your server this morning. Enjoy.”

I froze when I recognized the man standing by the hostess station as Taylor. Covered in thick mud, he was still wearing all his gear, including his pack and hard hat. The creases next to his eyes were the only skin on his face not covered with soot.

I covered my mouth, stifling a sob.

He took a step, removing his hat. “They said you waited all night at the hotel.”

I couldn’t respond. I knew if I opened my mouth, all I would be able to do was bawl.

“Is it true?” he asked, his eyes glossing over. He fidgeted with his helmet.

Everyone in the room was staring at the filthy man who reeked of campfire, and then they all looked at me.

As soon as I nodded, my legs gave way, and I fell to my knees, my hand still cupped over my trembling lips.

Taylor rushed to the floor, falling onto his knees, too.

He touched my cheeks, and I hugged him, pulling him to me, grasping at his clothes like he might be taken away from me at any moment. I let the sob break free, my cries filling the café.

He held me as long as I needed, allowing me to hug him as tightly as I wanted. His coat and pack were hard to navigate around, but I didn’t pay attention to that. I just grabbed whatever my hands landed on and pulled him against me.

“Baby,” he whispered, looking down at me. He wiped my face, probably smudged from the layers of ash on his skin and clothes. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

“Does Tyler know?”

“Yeah. He’s the one who told me you were at the hotel. Who knew he would be such a big f*cking baby when it came to me?” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Where have you been?” I asked, shivering uncontrollably.

“We holed up. Let it run over us. Used our fire shelters. Finally crawled out this morning.”

I hugged him again and then pressed my mouth on his, not caring that his skin was black with thick soot. He wrapped his arms around me, and everyone in the Bucksaw let out a collective sigh of relief and sentiment.

When I finally let him go, his eyes sparked. “Christ, woman. If I’d known I’d have to have a near-death experience to get your attention, I would have jumped into a fire months ago.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, shaking my head, tears blurring my vision. “Where are Dalton and Zeke? Are they okay?”

Taylor smiled, his teeth gleaming white against his dark face. “Everyone made it out. They’re back at the hotel. I came straight over when Ellie told me you’d waited up with them.”

Chuck and Phaedra approached, both relieved and happy to see Taylor.

“Take him upstairs, Falyn. Get him cleaned up, so we can make him some breakfast. I’m sure he’s half-starved,” Phaedra said.

Taylor stood, bringing me with him. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulling me toward the stairs.

I followed him, still in shock.

When we stepped inside the loft, I closed the door behind me, leaning my back against it. It didn’t seem real. All night, I’d thought he was dead, mulling over the idea of truly losing him forever. Now, he was standing a few feet from me, and although the circumstances hadn’t changed, everything was different.

“Can you hand me a trash bag? A big one,” Taylor said, careful to stand on the tiles in the entrance.

I went to the cabinet under the sink and pulled a large black trash bag from its cardboard box. I shook it out before handing it to him.

Taylor dropped his pack into the sack, and it crashed to the floor. He peeled off his yellow jacket, and then he bent over at the waist to unfasten his boots before pulling them off. Each time he removed a piece of his protective clothing, he’d put it inside the bag.

When he was done, he held the bag closed at the top. “Don’t want your place smelling like smoke.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care.”

He grinned. “You will. It doesn’t go away for a while. And the black is hard to get out of the carpet. Trust me.” Down to his boxer briefs, he tied up the sack and set it outside the door in the hall. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said.

I chuckled. Now that he was undressed, his skin was only dirty from the neck up.

He padded into the bathroom, and I heard the shower come on. I covered my mouth, stifling an unexpected sob. He was okay. He was alive and in my bathroom. I thought about what Kirby had said—about the sacrifices he was willing to make and how atrocious I was behaving when it was time for me to take a risk.

I knocked on the open bathroom door, the steam billowing out from above the curtain. The mirror was fogging. Everything was blurry again.

“Taylor?”