by Laney Powell
“What the hell?” I shot out of bed, pulling on my jeans and grabbing my shirt. “Stay here,” I said to Carissa. I got to the door as the person on the other side banged again.
“Fire department! Anyone home?”
What? I yanked the door open to see two firemen in full gear. “Can I help you?” I got out before they pushed me aside, heading toward the kitchen.
“In here,” I heard one shout. “It’s the stove!”
A third man came in carrying a fire hose. I started to follow him when a fourth man stopped me. “Are you the homeowner?” he asked.
“No, my grandmother is,” Carissa had come to stand beside me. She was dressed, although disheveled looking.
“Are you cooking something?” the man asked.
Carissa looked at him blankly, and then her mouth opened as she cried out, “Oh, no! The chicken! The corn!”
I would have laughed if my heart wasn’t beating so damn hard, ready to fight for her for whatever had been on the other side of the door.
“Oh, God! Gran’s house! How bad is it?” She took a few steps.
“No, ma’am, we need you to come outside. Is there anyone else here?”
Carissa shook her head. “No, it’s just the two of us.”
Neither of us looked at one another as we followed the fireman down the steps of the porch, moving away from the house to stand in the yard.
“Oh, my God,” Carissa wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t believe I set Gran’s house on fire.”
“What was it?” I asked.
“Our dinner!” she cried, and when she looked at me, I could see there were tears coming down her face. “What have I done?”
I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s going to be all right,” I said. “Maybe a little messy, but it can be fixed.”
“What if it can’t?” Carissa whispered, one hand rubbing at her eyes. “Oh, my God. How do I tell Gran?”
I just hugged her, not saying anything. There was nothing I could say. Nothing that would make her feel better, anyway.
It took another hour for the firemen to finish. Thank God we’d both gotten dressed before coming out, because we were stuck. While we were waiting, we sat in my Jeep. Carissa texted her grandmother.
“I don’t even want to face her,” she said.
“Well, what are you going to tell her?” I asked.
“That I started cooking, and I forgot it was there,” Carissa said. “What else can I say?”
“Maybe not the whole truth,” I muttered. Her grandmother looked like the kind of lady who would beat me to death with a purse.
Carissa looked up and laughed, the first time I’d seen her looking anything other than sad since the firemen banged on the door. “She already knows that I’m… “ She stopped.
“What?” I asked.
“Well, the last time you were over here, you know, when she came in?” she asked.
I nodded.
“I shoved my bra in my back pocket, and after you left, she told me to tuck it in or put it on.”
I burst out laughing. “So she knows.”
“She does. And she hasn’t said much, other than that. I told her I was having company tonight, and she didn’t ask a thing about it, well, other than to tell me she thought you were a nice boy.”
“Is that good?” I asked.
“Well, she had a lot to say about Stephen, so yeah, I’d say so.”
“You know, I wanted to talk to you about him,” I said.
“I told him to get the hell out. I don’t think he’s coming back,” Carissa said.
“You sure? Coming here in the first place was pretty desperate.”
“What are you saying, Jensen?” Carissa turned to look at me.
“Something doesn’t feel right with this,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her that not only didn’t it feel right, but it stank like a skunk at a tea party. I decided to take a more diplomatic tack.
She waved a hand, seemingly unconcerned. “He’s a complete ass, but he’s gone. He won’t bother me again.” She looked in the rear-view mirror and then twisted her head to look out the window. “Oh, shit, there’s Gran.”
As she got out of the Jeep, I got out with her.
“You don’t have to come with me,” Carissa said.
“Damn right I’m coming with you. I’m responsible as well.”
She looked at me, and I couldn’t decipher her expression. “All right. Gird your loins.” Then she turned and started walking to her grandmother.
“Carissa! Are you all right?” Mrs. Webber hurried across the front yard.
“I’m fine, Gran. I’m so sorry. I burned up your stove.”
“How? What happened?” Mrs. Webber took Carissa by the shoulders, and I could tell that she was looking her granddaughter over.
“I had chicken in the oven, and corn in a pan on the stovetop. I don’t know which one burned.” Carissa hugged her grandmother, then pulled away. “I’m so sorry. I’ll fix it and get you a new stove.”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is—” Mrs. Webber saw me as I came to stand next to Carissa. “And what are you doing here, Jensen Briggs?” The way she looked at me made me feel about ten and in trouble.
“I was here when the stove caught fire. We were planning to have dinner, ma’am,” I said. I stood up straight, trying not to feel like I was about to be scolded.
“Well, you certainly burned something up,” Mrs. Webber said, rolling her eyes. She turned to look over at the firemen. “Where’s Dickie Jones?”
At that point, one of the firemen came over. “Mrs. Webber, it’s all put out. There’s not a lot of damage beyond the stove and some smoke damage on the wall above the stove. You were lucky.”
“What happened? Can you tell?” Mrs. Webber asked.
“We got a call from a neighbor who saw smoke coming out of the window. It was a good thing it was open, otherwise I think it would have been a lot worse.”
Jesus. I hadn’t even though to ask Carissa if there was something cooking, beyond what was boiling between us.
“Thank goodness for that,” Mrs. Webber said. “Thank you.”
“You’ll want to call your insurance company tonight, so they can get an adjustor out here,” the fireman who was young and earnest looking, said.
He and Carissa’s grandmother exchanged a few more words, and then he nodded, and walked away. Mrs. Webber turned to the two of us. “You two, stay here. I’m going to talk to Dickie, and then we’re going to talk.” Without waiting for an answer, she followed the young man who’d just been talking to us.
“God, I’m such a jerk,” Carissa whispered.
I put an arm around her. “It doesn’t make you a jerk, Carissa. I knew we were having dinner, and I didn’t even bother to ask. I’m not letting you take the whole fall for this.”
She leaned against me. Her grandmother came back, and all the fireman left as we walked back in the house. We went straight to the kitchen, and while the smoke had left a black scar up the wall, the wall itself didn’t look damaged beyond repair.
Mrs. Webber stood with her hands on her hips, eying it. “Well,” she said finally. “I’ve always wanted to repaint this kitchen and get the paper taken down. It’s really old-fashioned.”
Carissa started to cry. “I’m sorry, Gran.” She went to hug her grandmother.
Mrs. Webber hugged her back, and then said, “You know, you’re not a bad cook, Carissa, but you’re not the greatest. You forgot about it, didn’t you?” She walked to the garbage can, which the firemen had pulled out, and dumped the burned food in.
Carissa nodded. “Totally. I don’t have any excuse.”
Mrs. Webber sighed, and then she looked at me, and then Carissa, with a smile and I’d swear her eyes were twinkling. “Well, no, you don’t, but let’s say I get why you might have a reason.”
Carissa shot a glance at me and then back to her grandmother. “Gran—”
“It’s not that bad, Carissa. You c
an pay the insurance deductible. It’s a good thing you opened the window, honey,” Mrs. Webber said, walking over to peer at the stove. “You all might have passed out otherwise.”
We very nearly passed out as it was, I thought. But I kept that shit to myself.
“Well, let’s lock up, and you come stay with me tonight,” Mrs. Webber said, patting Carissa’s arm. “Jensen, can you get this thing closed, and make sure the house is buttoned up?” She gestured at the window. “And take out that garbage. It’ll stink the place up if we leave it overnight.”
“Sure thing,” I said.
“Carissa, honey, go and pack up for tomorrow. I’ll do a quick check upstairs.” She bustled off, leaving me with Carissa.
“I’m sorry,” Carissa said.
“So am I,” I replied. “I share in this, remember?”
Her lips pressed together, but she didn’t answer.
“Go pack.” I could tell that the shock of all that could have happened was sinking in.
Carissa went to her room, but not before I saw her rub at a tear that fell from her eye.
Well, this had certainly gone to shit. I closed and locked the window and went to the back door to take out the trash before I locked it. By the time her grandmother came back downstairs, Carissa had come out with a small bag.
“You ready, honey?” Mrs. Webber asked her.
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll drive you over tonight, and I’ll bring you back tomorrow to pick up your car. You look all in, sweetie,” Mrs. Webber said, patting Carissa’s arm.
She was right. Carissa did look all in. I wanted to be the one who comforted her, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight.
Mrs. Webber continued, “Jensen, thank you for your help. I appreciate it. Now, I’ll see you later, young man, and Carissa? I’ll be out in the car.”
And with that, the old lady bustled out the front door, leaving us alone.
I opened my arms, and Carissa walked into them.
“It’s going to be all right,” I said.
She sniffled and then looked up. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”
I was so grateful she had used the word ‘we’ that I couldn’t speak immediately. I didn’t know, until that moment, how important it was that she thought of us as a ‘we’. I kissed the top of her head, and held her closer to me, feeling her heartbeat. It thumped a little faster than normal, which was understandable.
“I’d better go.” She bent down to pick up her bag.
I stopped her, and gave her a kiss, a proper one this time, on the mouth. I let all my feelings pour into that kiss. I didn’t want to shatter whatever this thing was between us, and things felt fragile right now.
“Call me tonight if you want to,” I said.
“I think I’m going to go to sleep,” she said. “I’m sorry about dinner.”
I kissed her again, and then taking her bag, walked out to the curb where her grandmother sat waiting. I helped Carissa in, put her bag in the back, and watched the car drive away.
When I got back to the ranch, the house was quiet. I wasn’t in the mood for any conversation, and I’d stopped at a drive through on the way back, so I didn’t need to get anything to eat. Tonight had started so well, and it had ended in the worst possible way. Well, not entirely. We were all right, and the house was fixable.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t shake the funk, and I went to bed early.
I woke while it was still dark to pounding on the door. I pulled on sweats and yanked the door open. Axel stood in the doorway.
“We had one of the bull calves go down last night. We found it when we were out checking over the herd, and we got it back, but I need your help. I’m sorry. I know this is your down time.”
“No worries, man. That’s what I’m here for.” I got dressed, and we went to the barn together. “You call the vet?”
“Left a message.”
I could see Axel was worried. The bulls were the hope of everything they were doing out here, the thing that would keep Broken Falls running for years. As long as they got it right now. Every calf was important.
We spent the rest of the night taking turns monitoring the calf. After breakfast, Freeze, who had slept some during the night, sent Axel and Pris to bed. He sent me off to the feed store. Even though the calf was sick, the other animals had to eat. Today was the normal day we’d go pick up supplies. Since it was just me, it would take longer, but Freeze needed to wait for the vet.
I headed into town, and as expected, it took some time to load the truck. Thankfully, the guys at the feed store gave me a hand. With a full bed, I pulled out of the feed store lot, and drove to the Beanery to grab a coffee for the drive home. I was starting to feel the lack of sleep, made worse by worry for the calf, and Carissa.
She hadn’t called last night.
That made me worried.
As I was getting back into the ranch truck, I turned, and I saw her. Carissa. Her hair was in the ponytail I liked so much and she was—what the fuck?
She was on the arm of some guy, walking fast with him down the sidewalk.
This was the ex douchebag. I just knew it. As they got to the end of the block, they turned, and I could see that her arm was tucked under his, like they were a couple.
I blinked, shaking my head. That couldn’t be. Why would she go anywhere with him? Maybe… maybe she’d reconsidered after last night? No. That couldn’t be it. What the fuck was it?
I needed to get back to the ranch, but I was so stunned, I couldn’t move. Of everything I worried about, this wasn’t it. Why was she with him?
My phone rang, and when I looked at it, it was from Carissa. OK, this made even less sense. “Hello?” I asked, my voice low and quiet. For her to call me now wasn’t a good sign at all. I steeled myself for what I was about to hear.
“What the fuck, Carissa? Why couldn’t you just help me? Now look what you made me do!” A man screamed through the phone.
“Put the gun down, Stephen. If it goes off, I’ll be even less helpful to you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Carissa
I stared at Stephen, my heart in my throat, but I managed to keep my voice calm. My hands were tied behind my back with a zip tie, and I didn’t have my purse. My phone was in my front pocket, where I couldn’t reach it, damn it.
“You’re no use to me, Carissa, but you can change that.”
“What do you want?”
He laughed, his expression turning into a sneer. “What I want is the money I need to pay off my debt. Then I don’t give a shit what you do.”
“I don’t owe you a thing. In fact, you owe me, you dirt bag. You stole the rent money from me! You left me there! With no word, no nothing, just a stupid, cowardly note!”
“I can see why he did,” the large man who was driving the car said. “Shut up.”
Even though Stephen had a gun, this guy scared me. If this was one of the guys who had come looking for him in San Diego, I could understand now why Mel wanted me to get the hell out of there. He was large, and he radiated sullen anger and danger.
I shut up.
“Where we going?” The big man asked.
“Follow this road out of town, and we’re turning off on…” Stephen stopped, lowering the gun and picking up his phone, “To a fishing place. Dutchman Road. It’s up ahead on the left.”
The big man nodded, and then Stephen raised the gun again, facing me from the front seat. I glared at him and then turned to look out the window. How in the world was I going to get out of this? He had a gun. I’d never seen him with a gun, ever, in the three years we were together, but he had one now, and while his hand shook a little, he didn’t hesitate to point it at me.
Fucker, I thought viciously. Loser, loser, loser. I could curse him later, though. I had to figure this out. Because I’d be damned if I’d give my money to this scummy piece of crap.
I’d been sad and shocked when he left. Part of me still cared for him then. But
now? After the texts, him showing up yesterday and then doing this shit now? I couldn’t even remember what it was like to love him. He’d killed it as sure as I’d killed the innocent chicken breasts I’d tried to cook last night. I felt the urge to snicker, and I bit my lip to stop the laughter. This was so not the time.
“Don’t puke in the car,” Stephen said.
I whipped my head around to him. “I’m not going to puke. Don’t fucking talk to me, you cowardly piece of dog shit.”
The big man laughed out loud. “She knows you well, huh Stephen?”
Stephen glared at him and then looked back at me. “Shut up, you bitch.”
“Gee, honey, just yesterday you were all sweetness and light, promising a house and a dog. And now I’m a bitch? Figure it out, Stephen.” I rolled my eyes. Something told me I was poking the bear, but I didn’t care. “Oh, wait, that’s right. You probably can’t. Logic, planning and truth are a little above your pay grade, aren’t they?”
The big man laughed again, and Stephen leaned back, raising the hand with the gun over his head. Then it came down, and I couldn’t see anything because everything went white, and then dark.
When I tried to open an eye, the light burned at my eyeball. I shut it quickly, and as my eyes moved, pain shot through my head. I opened my mouth and screamed.
A hand that smelled like sweat and hot dogs came down over my mouth. “Be quiet,” a deep voice said. “We don’t need your noise.”
And although my head hurt like someone had tried to split it open, everything came back to me. This sounded like the guy who’d been driving. I’d been in a car with a big scary looking guy, and Stephen.
Who had fucking hit me?
The hand moved away. It still smelled bad. The pillow or whatever it was my face was next to was gross.
“Where is that fuckhead?” I asked. I kept my eyes closed because now, I thought I might throw up if I tried to open them again.
“You mean your boyfriend?” The deep voice was amused. “He’s out looking for a signal for the laptop. It’s pretty fucking country out here, isn’t it?”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “I’m not responsible for him.”