Seeing Red

by Jill Shalvis

  “That’s okay.” She smiled as her heart tightened just a little. “Maybe it’ll come to you.”

  He stroked a finger over her jaw. “Maybe.”

  She felt like turning her cheek into his touch. Or stepping closer to his body. She forced herself to remain still. “See ya,” she whispered.

  His mouth quirked. His dimple made another appearance. “See ya.”

  The official news came at the end of the week. In compliance with the fire department, the warehouse fire had been ruled an accident by the insurance company.

  To celebrate, Summer took Camille to lunch at an old favorite, the Blues Café, where the music was excellent, the food more excellent, and it was impossible not to relax.

  When they were done, Camille hugged Summer tight. There on the warm sidewalk with the scent of the ocean all around them and the welcoming feel of her mom’s arms around her, Summer thought this wasn’t a bad place to be at all.

  “That was a lovely good-bye lunch,” Camille said when she pulled back. “Thank you.”

  Summer blinked. “Good-bye?”

  “Well, we have a ruling now, right? The report is just a formality, and due any day.”

  Ah, she got it. With the report, she was free to go. And she couldn’t wait. Really, she couldn’t. But her thoughts raced as they walked along the noisy, crowded sidewalk. Before they got in the car, she grabbed her mom’s hand. “Mom? I need to say something.”

  Camille smiled softly. “I already know.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. You love me.”

  “Yes, I do, very much, but that’s not what I was going to say.” She sucked in a big breath. “I’m sorry I left the way I did all those years ago, that I wasn’t there for you…I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

  Camille put a hand to her heart and shook her head. “I don’t want you to be sorry—”

  “But I am. I’m so damned sorry, Mom.”

  “Oh, Summer. Do you think I don’t see how hard you’re trying to love it here?” She hugged Summer again. “And I love it that it matters so much to you to be with me. But you’ve already given me nearly three weeks. I’m sure you’re dying to get out of here.”

  “I have a few more days.”

  “Honey.”

  “No really. I’m taking a customer and a group of her friends on a day hike tomorrow.” And she was looking forward to it, she really was.

  Camille smiled, though suddenly it seemed strained. “That’s lovely.” She cupped Summer’s face. “You know we’re going to be fine, you and me, when you go.”

  But were they? Or would they revert back to not really knowing each other at all? “I just want you to understand why I’m leaving this time. That I’m not running anymore. That I’ll be back, really back.”

  “I do.”

  But was the knowing enough? Summer didn’t know that either.

  Two nights later Summer was at the new Creative Interiors II, helping the last customer of the day before closing. It was her last time at the register.

  She was leaving tomorrow morning.

  She’d led a few hikes, she’d gone out kayaking with Chloe, and she actually almost wished she had more time to keep exploring her old haunts.

  But tomorrow she’d drive to her small studio apartment in San Francisco. She had a plane ticket for two days from now, to Colorado, where she’d immerse herself in the river rafting season, and not think too much about what she’d left: her mom, her family.

  Joe.

  He’d come by earlier, with a copy of the fire report. He hadn’t said good-bye, and neither had she. And now she faced her last evening. Alone. She knew that everyone often hung out at Tooley’s Bar and Grill after work. Normally the bar scene was not her thing but tonight she thought she could use it. “What are you doing after work?” she asked Chloe.

  Chloe’s grin said it all. “Guess.”

  Summer’s gaze cut to the very gorgeous but very silent Braden on the other side of the shop, behind the counter, fingers clicking at the speed of light over his laptop keyboard. “He asked you out?”

  “Does it matter who asked who?”

  She thought of how she’d kissed Joe on the beach and had to admit that no, it didn’t matter who started the asking. “He’s so quiet. Do you two ever talk?”

  “Maybe I’m not looking for talk.”

  “Yeah.” There was something greatly unfair about Chloe getting lucky while she was not, despite her best efforts. “Maybe you could jump him another time.”

  “Why?”

  Because it’s my last night. But Chloe already knew that, and Summer was getting tired of pushing herself on absolutely everyone. “No real reason.”

  “Well, then, not a chance.”

  “Right.” Out of sheer desperation, Summer approached Diana and Madeline. They were planning to go to some college party, and though they were actually pleasant—and Diana gave Summer a glowing horoscope for once—they didn’t invite her to come along as they vanished out the door smelling like forbidden cigarettes and trouble waiting to happen.

  With no customers left, Chloe was chomping at the bit to go home and get ready for her hot date with Braden, so Summer gave up and shooed her off as well. As she did, Stella came through from the back with her purse. “I don’t see why you won’t let Gregg and me close up for you on your last night in town,” she said to Summer.

  “That’s okay.” If she left now, her big evening alone would start even earlier. “I’ve got it covered.”

  “All right. Gregg!” she yelled down the stairs to the employee break room. “He’s so particular about the routine,” she said to Summer. “He likes to make sure everything is closed up just right. You should have seen him when we had our own store.”

  “You had a store?”

  “Oh, yes. And it was beautiful,” Stella said with soft pride. “But then we—”

  “You’re not boring Summer with our life story, are you, Stel?” Gregg asked as he came into the room. He hooked an arm around his wife and hugged her, then smiled at Summer. “See ya on the next trip home, Cookie. A couple of years maybe?”

  “Not so long this time.”

  “Okay.”

  “Really, it won’t be.” She managed to keep her smile in place until they left. Alone now, she sighed, then flipped the CLOSED sign on the door, moving through the store, turning off lights, straightening up things here and there. She had the radio on and was humming to Coldplay, thinking she should probably put on something more upbeat than the beautiful, lyrical songs that made her ache, when from behind her, a door creaked. Whipping around with a surprised gasp, Summer watched as the small bathroom door just behind the counter slowly opened. With a hand on her racing heart, she stared at Braden. “I thought you were already gone.”

  “I am.” Dressed in his usual black from sleek stud in his ear to his ass-kicking boots, he walked toward the front door.

  “What were you doing in there?”

  He shot her a bland look over his shoulder.

  “Right.” But her heart still hadn’t slowed. “You going out with Chloe tonight?”

  He sent her another baleful glance.

  “Let me guess. None of my business.”

  “You’re quick.” He reached for the door.

  “It’s just that I’m sort of fond of the spoiled brat,” she said. “So be kind, okay?”

  When he looked at her again, surprised, she smiled at him. He offered her a half smile in return, more than she’d ever seen out of him, and shook his head. “Don’t stay long,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s your last night.”

  Right. And she had so many other options open to her.

  When he was gone, Summer continued closing up. Tina had a thing for candles, and there were some burning throughout the shop for ambiance. She blew out each of the votives as she went, then hesitated because the dark seemed so complete.

  Odd, because when she was out on a camping trip, in
charge of the trek, with no city lights around for miles and miles, she was never afraid of the dark.

  But here, now, alone in the store with most of the lights off, she felt jumpy. Out of sorts. Maybe because this was her last time alone in the shop for a good long while. In a few days she’d be taking a group of twelve down the Colorado River, where teapots and end tables and lamps would be a distant memory.

  She moved into the back of the store to shut off those lights as well. There was another door here that led downstairs to a small room they used for employee breaks. Gregg had left it open and the light on, which made her frown. So much for routine.

  She stared down the long, deep, dark steps. She really wasn’t afraid of much, but dark, tight places and spiders topped the list. Still, this had to be done. She had to go down there and turn them off. “Just do it,” she said out loud, as if that would help.

  The stairs creaked as she slowly made her way down. So did a beam overhead. She nearly jumped out of her skin, and then laughed at herself. “Scaredy-cat.”

  The little TV and stereo were off. The table was cleared and clean. But what really caught her attention was the huge beanbag chair. She’d once had one just like it, it’d sat in her room at the house she’d grown up in. Many mornings she’d woken up to find Joe asleep in it.

  She toed the thing, decided it was as comfortable as the original, and sank onto it. Leaning back, she studied the TV. She couldn’t reach the remote, and didn’t feel like moving. She hadn’t realized how tired she was, and let her eyes drift shut.

  She thought about what she’d done here, trying to find herself. Find her way back to the ties she’d once had. Had she made progress? She wasn’t sure. The old Summer would have packed it up days ago, hell weeks ago, but, she’d lingered because that’s not who she wanted to be.

  And yet she didn’t have a clear picture of who she did want to be…

  She jerked awake, confused, not sure how long she’d been out. A sharp, putrid scent penetrated her brain.

  Smoke.

  She choked on the thick, clinging cloud of it and could hardly see. No. No, this wasn’t happening.

  Coughing, she pulled her shirt up over her mouth. The smoke had settled over her like a blanket, smothering. She had to get out. She knew that much. Staggering upright, she flew up the stairs, or tried to, but her feet wouldn’t seem to cooperate. Confused, she felt like she moved in slow motion, everything fuzzy and gray so that suddenly she wasn’t sure if this was real, or if she was simply reliving an old nightmare.

  There’d been stairs then, too, she remembered in growing panic. Downstairs while her father—

  Don’t open the door.

  She’d made that mistake twelve years ago, not setting her hands on the door first, just ripping it open. Back then the smoke and flames had overcome her. She’d stood there, hearing her father’s screams, a horrifying, hoarse sound of unthinkable pain, and blindly she’d run straight ahead.

  Behind her Joe had called out, tried to catch her.

  But she’d just run faster—

  And then blackness. Oh God, such all-consuming blackness and despair. She remembered nothing more, nothing until she’d woken up in the hospital two days later.

  Now she squeezed her eyes shut, her body fighting the images before she opened them again. The smoke still surrounded her.

  This nightmare was real.

  The door was hot beneath her pounding fists. It was her only exit but she couldn’t get out, which made her feel intensely claustrophobic. Coughing uncontrollably now, she sank to her knees on the wrong side of the door, torn between sheer terror and fury.

  Her stomach felt loose and hollow, and her body shook even as she began to sweat. With her breath lodged in her throat, she set her forehead to her knees and did her best to pretend she was anywhere else. On the pier eating cotton candy and a hot dog. On a mountain bike in Scotland.

  In Joe’s arms.

  Then her cell phone rang, startling her out of the living terror. Gasping, sobbing with relief, she searched deep in her pockets in her full silky skirt, but by the time she located it, the caller had given up. She saw on the display it had been her mother. “Mom.” She began to hit buttons but had the presence of mind to pound out 9–1–1 instead.

  Somehow she gave the dispatcher the information, then sat there huddled against the door, choking on the smoke and panic and memories, running out of air, hoping they made it to her in time.

  Joe’s pager went off at eight o’clock that night. He reached for it, thinking if Cindy hadn’t ditched him two weeks ago, she’d surely have done so now. Just about every evening since had been interrupted for one emergency or another.

  He called dispatch, and when he got the address downtown in the center of Orchard Beach he forgot about everything as his heart kicked into high gear. Creative Interiors II. He raced there, breaking a few laws and possibly the speed of light to stare in dread at the flames hurdling out of the building and into the night sky. There were fire trucks, an ambulance, a few squad cars, and curious onlookers as the fire raged its war. Beneath their feet lay a sea of water hoses while firefighters battled to get the blaze under control, also protecting the buildings on either side. He rushed forward but Kenny came out of nowhere to block his way.

  “You’re not suited up,” Kenny said, holding on to him with shocking strength. “They’ll get the fire out. They’ll get her.”

  He stared at Kenny. “They’ll get who?”

  Kenny looked at him from anguished eyes. The kind of look you give someone when they have really, really bad news.

  Joe’s stomach sank to his toes. “No.” Still restrained, he whipped his head back to the building. Flames pushed and shoved their way through the opening where the front glass door had been. From the windows. From the roof. The entire thing was ablaze.

  And Summer was in there.

  “She fell asleep downstairs,” Kenny said. “And woke to smoke. She had a cell phone in her pocket and was able to call for help. They’re going to get her out, Joe. They are. It’s Jake Rawlins in there, you know how good he is.”

  “Is she injured?” he said hoarsely.

  “Don’t know yet.”

  The flames were hot and out of control, and he knew no one would be coming out the front door. Don’t be hurt. Please, God, don’t let her be hurt.

  Kenny used his free hand to turn up the volume on the radio at his hip. As he did, one of the side windows blew out, and two firefighters appeared in the opening, one of them Jake, with a third person held between them.

  Summer.

  Joe twisted free from Kenny and rushed forward, meeting them as they cleared the building.

  Someone put an oxygen mask on Summer, another wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. They were all drenched, having been nailed by the water hoses aiming in the window.

  Joe nodded his gratitude to Jake and the others, and crouched in front of Summer, reaching for her hands. He’d told himself for days now, ever since she’d shown up at his office with that bittersweet offer of chips, that they had no place in each other’s lives anymore. The physical attraction had been a fluke, nothing more. The yearning to know her again…that couldn’t be explained away as easily but he wasn’t interested in following through. He’d told himself this until he was blue in the face, all the way through the second bag of chips he’d bought himself at the grocery store.

  And then the third. He’d almost started to believe it.

  Until right this second, looking at her. “Red.”

  “Isn’t it funny?” she asked, her voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable. “The one thing I’m most afraid of, and I keep ending up in the middle of it.”

  “Don’t talk.” He rocked back on his heels and studied her carefully. The night was lit up like day so it wasn’t difficult. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I—”

  “Shh.” He passed a hand over his eyes and took a deep breath. She was alive. Alive was good. He pushed the hair from h
er face. “I think you just shaved ten years off my life,” he murmured. “What were you doing in there this late?”

  She tried to clear her throat and winced. “I—”

  “No, damn it. Don’t.” He cupped her throat as if he could take her pain. “What else hurts?”

  She shot him a wry look but kept her mouth shut.

  “Right. I told you not to talk.” He sat back on his heels, marginally relieved by the mixture of temper and amusement in her face. “Like you’ve ever listened to me.”

  The firefighter paramedics looked her over. She’d inhaled the smoke and had a couple of good scratches on her legs from climbing through the window, but nothing that required stitches, and no burns.

  Around them they’d contained the blaze but were still working on getting the flames out. Joe and Kenny’s work was just beginning, but Joe found he couldn’t leave her side.

  “I’m fine,” she said, and the firefighter paramedic at her side nodded his agreement.

  The verdict was for her to go home, clean herself up, and rest.

  Kenny pulled Joe aside. “You take her home. I’ll stay until the site cools, secure the scene, and then we can meet back here at dawn.”

  “What about Camille and Tina?”

  “They’re being called now.”

  Joe glanced down at Summer’s bowed head. She needed to get away now. She’d held up so far, she’d stayed strong, but he saw her fingers shake as she drew the blanket tight.

  “I can drive myself home,” she said, reading his mind.

  “No.” No way in hell. He looked at Kenny. “I’ll take her.” Once again he crouched in front of her. This time when he took her hand in his, he was alarmed to find it cold as ice. Her entire body was trembling now. Delayed shock. “Red?”

  Her eyes were huge in her face. “Do you think I left a candle burning?” She fisted her hand in his shirt. “Oh my God, is that what started the fire?”

  “Shh, not now. Come on.”

  “I did this.”

  “Baby, come on. I’m taking you home.”

  She lifted her head and leveled him with those sea green crystal clear eyes, red rimmed and tortured by the smoke. He pulled her up, tucked her against his side, figuring it a bad, bad sign that she didn’t resist.