by Joanna Wylde
“Hell, no,” I told her, narrowing my eyes. “You’re coming home with me. I already messaged the club—they’ll pull together everything you need. You’ll stay in Coeur d’Alene at my place until it’s safe to go home.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, I know we’ve slept together a few times, but—”
Leaning down, I caught her lips in a hard kiss, driving my tongue deep because the woman obviously shouldn’t be allowed to talk any more, not if she planned on staying crazy shit like that. The kiss wasn’t long enough, not even close, but by the time I pulled back her eyes were dazed and her lips were swollen.
“We’re going to Coeur d’Alene,” I told her. “And then we’ll figure shit out. Got it?”
Tinker nodded, then gave me a slow smile.
“Got it,” she whispered, and I kissed her again.
• • •
It took an hour to get everyone transferred and settled. Tom and Mary Webbly were both exhausted, so we pulled out the bunk and let them sleep while we went shopping for some food for the road. The store was full of refugees, and everywhere I looked I saw the exhausted faces of people I’d met over the past few weeks. Then we climbed back into the truck and pulled out, Tinker collapsing on the seat next to me, her face drawn and tight even in sleep.
Fuck, I thought, watching as the yellow stripes of the highway disappeared behind us. Driving this thing was like driving a tank.
I was really gonna miss my bike.
Of course, I’d have missed Tinker a hell of a lot more, and there was a Harley dealership in Spokane full of bikes just like mine, and some a whole lot nicer. Reaching over, I touched her hair, running my fingers through it. God, she was beautiful.
Yeah, fuck the bike. All I needed was right here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ONE WEEK LATER
TINKER
I sat outside on Gage’s deck, watching as a flock of wild turkeys wandered below me on the hillside. I’d been enchanted the first time I saw them, until I smelled their shit. It was rotten, like something dead. Not only that, cleaning it up was a real bitch. The stuff was so sludgy that you couldn’t scoop it, but way too solid to spray off with the hose.
That was one part of north Idaho that I didn’t like.
So far it was the only part.
We’d had some incredible things happen over the past week, that was for sure. For one, the Reaper women were really nice. I don’t know what I’d expected—probably older versions of Talia or Sadie. But these women formed a strong sisterhood that’d wrapped around me like a welcoming blanket. They’d pounced as soon as we’d pulled in, handing over bags of clean clothing, toiletries, and gift cards to buy anything else we might need. Yes, they were tough and some of them looked a little dangerous. But they were also sweet and smart and funny, and so welcoming it made my heart hurt.
And they loved Gage.
When he’d called the club his family, I hadn’t quite understood what he meant. I’d grown up with my mom and dad, and some distant cousins who lived down south in Utah. Every other year we got together for friendly but subdued campouts halfway between the two homes. The Reapers were a loud, outgoing swarm of familial love that’d built a protective a fortress around everyone who belonged to them, and I realized fast that so far as they were concerned, that included me. It also included my dad and Mary Webbly.
Maybe they were really that nice, or maybe natural disasters just bring out the best in people, but either way, I’d never experienced such hospitality in my life.
The north Idaho landscape was beautiful, too, although even this far from home the air was full of smoke. I’d seen the satellite images on TV—it looked like a bomb had hit Washington State. Hellish pictures filled the news, and several young firefighters lost their lives when their truck broke down, the flames overtaking them.
As for Hallies Falls, we knew about half the town had burned, but we didn’t know which half. Darren had tried going back to assess the damage, but he got turned back by the state patrol. Even now, more firefighters from around the world were arriving to help, some coming all the way from Australia and New Zealand.
Tomorrow would be a big day.
They’d be opening the town for residents to return and check on their property, although we weren’t supposed to stay overnight. After a week of uncertainty, we’d finally learn whether the apartment building still stood.
Whether I had a home.
“You ready?” Gage asked, coming out to sit next to me on the lounger. He lived in a two-bedroom condo above the river, furnished entirely in bachelor. Giant TV, comfy couches, no plants. It was nicer than the apartment I’d given him—a lot nicer. I felt kind of sheepish about that.
“For tomorrow, you mean?”
“Yeah,” he said, nuzzling my neck.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “Of what we’ll find. Or won’t find, for that matter. I’m so appreciative, though, to you and your club. For everything. Dad’s in heaven, by the way. I know I thought it was a bad idea at the time, but he loves his room at the clubhouse. I’m starting to wonder if there’s something going on with him and Mary Webbly. I don’t think she’s left his side since we pulled into town.”
Gage grinned. “There’s something. Not sure what to call it, but it’s definitely there. I know it hasn’t been that long since your mom passed, but—”
“If he’s happy, I’m happy,” I said, sighing as I leaned back into him. “He’ll always love my mother, there’s no question of that. But life is short, and she wouldn’t want him to be alone. You have to make the most of what you’re given, because none of us know how much time we have left.”
“That’s definitely true,” he said. I had just turned my head to kiss him when the phone rang.
“Ignore it,” Gage said.
“I can’t,” I replied, laughing. “I’m waiting on a call from the doctor. In all the confusion we left Dad’s medications behind. It’s been a challenge, because our family doctor is displaced and the specialist in Seattle won’t prescribe without seeing him. At least we had a good record of everything on my email, thanks to all that paperwork. The doctor we saw here was fine renewing most of the scrips, but there was one Dad had been taking that was actually my mother’s. Apparently it’s fairly specialized, not what they’d usually recommend.”
Reaching down, I grabbed the phone and slid my finger across the surface to answer.
“Ms. Garrett?” a woman asked. “This is Brenda Gottlieb. I’m a nurse at Dr. Taylor’s practice, and he asked me to follow up about your father’s medications.”
“Thanks for calling,” I said. “What’s the story?”
“The drug he’d been taking—amitriptyline. You said your mother was using it for depression.”
“That’s what Dad told me.”
“And you’d been planning to bring him to a specialist in Seattle, to talk about his cognitive function?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Taylor is concerned that the medicine may be related to that,” she said. “You see, in a very small percentage of patients—less than one percent, actually—amitriptyline can cause confusion and even memory loss. He’d like you to talk to a local specialist and get your father fully evaluated. You’d said that his mental state got worse after your mother’s death, when he started the meds?”
“Yes,” I whispered sitting up slowly. “And he’s been doing really well this week, even though he hasn’t been taking it. Clearer.”
“I’ve got a referral for you to a specialist in Spokane,” she told me. “The sooner you get that evaluation done, the better. Dr. Taylor made some calls. They can get him in on Friday at eleven.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling dazed.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Watch your dad and see how he’s doing. The medication should be mostly out of his system by now, although it varies by person. If he continues to clear up, that’s important information his doctor needs to know. It could’ve been
causing a lot of his symptoms.”
“Thank you,” I repeated as she hung up the phone, stunned. Gage looked at me.
“You okay?” he asked. I nodded slowly.
“I think they just told me that Dad’s memory problems might be caused by medication,” I said, feeling stunned. “I mean, consider how well he’s done since we got here. You’d expect him to be more confused, seeing as we evacuated so fast and nothing is familiar. But he’s done really well, even in a strange place.”
Gage’s eyes widened.
“Damn, that’d be amazing.”
“I know. I’m also too scared to hope, but it makes so much sense. According to Mary, he didn’t start to fall apart until after Mom died, and that’s when he started taking it. It’s hard to wrap my head around.”
Gage laughed. “He’s a tough old bastard, no question. If anyone could pull it off, it’d be Tom.”
I turned to hug him, feeling happier than I had in a long time. I still didn’t know if I had a home waiting for me in Hallies Falls, but in that moment it didn’t matter. I had people who cared about me. Real people. And maybe I wasn’t going to lose my dad after all. It felt too good to be true, but it really did explain so much.
“I’ve got an idea,” Gage said as I relaxed in his arms, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted.
“What’s that?”
“Let’s celebrate.”
I raised a brow. “And how do you want to celebrate?”
“Like this,” he said, pulling me over him on the lounger, resting my knees on either side of his hips. I wiggled, enjoying the feel of him between my legs, then leaned down to give him a long, slow kiss.
“I like celebrations,” I whispered. “I like them a lot.”
• • •
We left Dad and Mary in Coeur d’Alene early the next morning, taking Gage’s pickup truck and pulling a trailer behind us. If there’d been a miracle and the house was still standing, maybe we’d be able to salvage something.
We were ten miles outside of Hallies Falls when I got a text message from Darren, showing a picture of their home. Nothing left but the garage.
“Fuck,” I said, holding it out for Gage to see. His mouth tightened. “I wanted to ask him to go look at my place, but I’m scared.”
“We’ll be there soon enough,” Gage said. “Let him focus on his family.”
I nodded, looking out the window at the landscape. Poor Carrie—she’d be devastated. They all got out alive, I reminded myself. That’s what really matters. The road to Hallies Falls was like something out of a war movie—scorched and barren, although some of the biggest trees still stood. We’d passed three burned-out farms, and at one point I saw a clump of cows staring at us blankly. Then we crested the hill leading down to town, and my mouth dropped.
You could see a line where the planes had dropped the red fire retardant. That must’ve been where the firefighters took their stand, I realized. They’d saved what they could and left the rest to burn. Half the town was blackened, buildings no more than skeletons, while the other half looked almost untouched. Well, untouched except for ash and the red stuff. My place should be right on the line between them. Straining, I tried to catch a glimpse of it, but couldn’t.
“Damn,” Gage said. “Looks rough down there.”
I didn’t answer, clenching my fists while we cruised down the hill, slowing as we reached the outskirts. On this side there was hardly any damage at all, aside from the filth and ash covering everything. People I’d known my entire life stood outside their homes, some dazed or crying while others worked with grim purpose. We passed the high school—still intact—and then cruised past where the post office used to stand. Now the building that’d stood tall for nearly a hundred years was a blackened shell.
“Rebuilding will be hard,” Gage said. I stared ahead, torn between desperation to see my home and absolute terror that I’d find another blackened ruin. As Gage turned down the street I’d grown up on, we passed a burned-out house and then another. After that, though, the houses were still standing, and then I saw it.
My home.
The building was a mess.
Most of it was coated in the reddish-orange fire retardant, and the rest was covered in ash. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
“They saved it,” I breathed, choking up. Gage reached over to squeeze my hand.
“Looks like it.”
“Oh shit,” I said, laughing nervously. “Look at your bike . . .”
We both stared at the once-proud Harley, now completely caked in reddish gook and filth.
“It’s red,” he said with a startled laugh. “Huh. I wasn’t sure to what to expect, but I’d pictured it either burned up or like normal. Wonder if that shit comes off.”
“It was insured, right?”
“Yup,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Your car’s in rough shape, too.”
I looked past the bike to see my Mustang. Sure enough, it was coated in the same stuff.
“We’re lucky,” I said, thinking of Darren and Carrie’s place. Gage pulled to a stop, and I hopped out, walking slowly across the crusted lawn. The front door was open, which seemed strange. I’d been almost certain I locked it when we left. Then I walked into the living room, looking around.
“Doesn’t seem like anything’s been damaged.”
“Check that out,” Gage said. I followed his gaze to see boot prints trailing through the dining room to the kitchen. Following them, I found six empty boxes of caramels on the counter, along with a note written on a paper towel.
The kitchen door was open, and we needed a place to rest for a while. We also ate your caramels and slept in your beds. We’ve been fighting the fire for nearly twenty-four hours, including four hours soaking the back of your building and the others in the neighborhood to save them. Hope you don’t mind.
It was signed Frank and Steve Browning.
“Wow,” I said, handing it over to Gage, who raised his brows.
“You know who they are?”
“No clue,” I said. “Although I’ll try to find out. I think I owe them more than caramels.”
Gage laughed.
“Yeah, I’d say so.”
I sighed. “We got really lucky here.”
He looked at me, nodding. “We did.”
“Gonna be a lot of work cleaning all this up,” I continued.
“You still on the fence about staying in Hallies Falls?” he asked, his voice serious. I shook my head.
“No, I want to be here,” I said, and it was the truth. “I didn’t realize how much I loved it until I almost lost it. I know it’s a small, weird town where everyone gossips . . . but it’s also the kind of place where two men will fight night and day to save a stranger’s home.”
Gage nodded slowly, his face thoughtful.
“You’ll need some help fixing things back up,” he said.
“You offering?” I asked jokingly, although I couldn’t look at him when I said it. What if he said no?
“Maybe,” he replied, his face serious. “Not in that apartment, though. I’d like somewhere more comfortable. You know, with space to stretch out. Maybe a house.”
“You could stay here with me.”
“And your dad?”
I shrugged, because at the end of the day, we were a package deal. “Guess that depends on what they have to say about his medication.”
“And whether Mary’s ready to give him up,” Gage said, cocking a brow. “You know, before all the fires, we were looking at maybe closing down the Nighthawks and starting a Reapers chapter in town. I’d be running the show. Could use an old lady to help me.”
Walking over to him, I wrapped my arms around his waist.
“Old?” I asked. “I thought you liked younger women.”
“I like you,” he said, digging his fingers into my hair for a kiss. I was just sinking into it when a sudden, random thought filled my head and I jerked away.
“The car!�
�� I said, eyes wide. Gage cocked a brow.
“What about it?”
“Carrie and Darren’s place burned down,” I told him, breathless. “But when I picked up the girls, I filled a bag full of their stuff. You know, jewelry and pictures and their laptop. Then I shoved it all in the trunk of the car. I need to check and see if it’s still there—maybe they didn’t lose everything after all!”
Pulling away from him, I ran out the door like a shot, headed for my Mustang. Then I skidded to a stop, because I had no fucking clue where I’d left the keys. Thinking frantically, I tried to remember those last few, panicked moments when we’d been running for the truck.
Had I left them in the ignition?
Pulling my sleeve up and over my hand, I wiped at the ash and fire retardant covering the window, and peered inside. Sure enough, there they were. Seconds later I had the trunk open, looking down triumphantly to see the bag of Carrie’s treasures. Whipping out my phone, I called her.
“Tinker?” she said, sounding defeated and exhausted. “How is your place?”
“I think we’re all right,” I told her, feeling strangely guilty for my good luck. “Darren sent me the pictures of your house, though.”
“It’s all gone,” she said. “There were a few boxes in the garage, but nothing that really mattered. I know it’s silly to be so upset over losing our things—it’s just stuff—but right now I feel sick.”
“When I took your girls by the house to grab some clothes, I went around with a grocery bag,” I told her. “I forgot all about it until now, but I grabbed your laptop and your jewelry, and a bunch of the pictures. It’s not much, but you haven’t lost everything. It’s still here, waiting for you.”
Carrie burst into tears.
“Carrie, are you all right?” I asked anxiously. She sniffled a few times, then managed to talk again.
“I’m so happy,” she said. “It shouldn’t matter so much but it does. The laptop has all our important information—you know, the bank accounts and insurance and stuff—and the thought of losing my grandma’s ring . . . I don’t even know what to say.”