Just as I’m about to place the match between the logs, a scratching of nails on the floorboards alerts me that Karma has finished her meal and is fast approaching.
I turn my head to the side, seeing her sliding along the floor as she races around the corner.
“You’re already fin—”
She catches her footing and leaps at me, which isn’t unexpected, but I’m certainly not ready for it with an already lit match in my hand.
“No!” I gasp, unable to drop the match in time. Instead, I take it with me as Karma knocks me back against the couch. I lose my footing and slide off it, breathless and dazed as I pull my hands forward to push her away from licking my face. “Karma, calm down.”
She finally pulls back, her tongue flopping out of her mouth. She looks like she’s smiling at me, her stare one of contentment as I rub behind her ears.
“Good girl,” I tell her, wondering what smells like smoke.
I am embarrassingly slow to realize I am no longer holding the lit match, and it isn’t until I feel heat close by that I look to my side to see half the couch is on fire!
“Oh, shit!” I gasp, leaping to my feet and taking a couple of fast steps backward.
I watch in horror as the flames quickly travel to the edge of the couch closest to the window then jumps onto Joey’s curtains in the blink of an eye.
I run into the kitchen to search for a fire extinguisher, but the place is such a mess that I can’t find anything. What if I waste time looking, only to find Joey doesn’t keep one? Not everyone does.
Feeling the heat getting stronger, the noise of crackling and popping louder, I settle for escaping the house with Karma.
The front room is already engulfed in flames, easily catching on everything. I’m too scared to try for the front door.
“Karma!” I screech when she’s slow to follow. Then, as soon as she is out the back door, I fly out after her.
Too shaken to think properly, I run down the opposite side of the house to where the fire is and knock on the door of Joey’s other neighbor, the Glovers.
Thankfully, they are home, and between coughs, I tell them what is happening. Not that the smoke billowing out one window doesn’t make it pretty obvious. Plus, glass smashing and wood groaning is easy to distinguish.
On the advice of the 911 operator, we then knock on the houses around us to alert them to evacuate their houses as a precaution.
I’m shaking by the time the fire trucks arrive and clinging onto Karma since she wants to warmly and enthusiastically greet everyone.
I’m in such a state of shock that I don’t take an opportunity to call Joey and tell him what has happened. I only think of this after I have spoken to the police and told them I am the one who set the fire.
I am too much of a blubbering mess to do anything other than make sure the Glovers have a hold of Karma, grab my I.D., where I then forget to pick my cell back up or lock my house, before I’m placed inside a police cruiser and taken away for further questioning.
The first time Joey spoke to me, I froze up.
When I walked in on my then husband and best friend screwing, I froze up.
And when I was being herded into a police car, I froze up again.
I couldn’t bring myself to reply to Joey, though I really wanted to make a good impression. I couldn’t get the words out when I needed to express my anger and betrayal at the two people I trusted in bed together. And as I’m placed inside the back of a police car, I can’t find the words to tell them this is a misunderstanding, that it was all an accident. I didn’t deliberately do anything.
My voice has disappeared, my tears blur my vision, and I imagine I must look ridiculous wearing a bright pink onesie, no bra, worn grey Ugg boots, and a hood with fake animal ears on top.
This is just not my night, or my year, or my decade.
Why does life keep flinging shit at me? And why do I keep taking it?
Chapter 2
It takes me ages to calm down, and since the police appear busy, I’m left mostly alone in an interview room, still wearing my ridiculous pajamas.
I haven’t been arrested. Well, I don’t think I have. Regardless, I’m not exactly sure if I can leave. When I brought it up to the original officer, he implied that trying to leave would infer my guilt, which won’t look good for me.
I don’t think I have anything to feel guilty over. At least, not in the eyes of the law. Nevertheless, his words keep me rooted to the cold, uncomfortable chair for what feels like hours.
I fear trying the door handle. Finding it locked would send me into a tailspin of hysterics. Instead, I sit in shock, exhausted and confused.
When an officer does poke his head in, offering me water, which reminds me I am desperate to pee, I beg him to let me borrow a phone to make a call.
He seems hesitant at first, and by the time I talk him around, threatening the need to call my lawyer, I’m torn between really calling my mom or Joey.
Ultimately, Joey wins out, knowing I should warn him about what he should expect when he finally gets home, and because Mom lives in Arizona and won’t be able to get herself here anytime soon.
Trying not to feel like a loser that I have Joey’s number memorized, I dial, hoping like hell he picks up. It has to be in the incredibly early hours of morning, so there is every chance, if he hasn’t come home yet, it’s because he’s out with someone and won’t answer.
After five, drawn-out, torturous rings, he finally picks up.
“What?” he grumbles. I can’t tell if I woke him up, or if he’s just annoyed to be disturbed.
“Hey, Joey, it’s Teagan—”
“Who?”
I pause, annoyed I’m so forgettable he can’t remember who he gave his house key to! “Teagan Bevon, the woman who lives next door?”
“Oh … Oh!” There is finally recognition in his voice. “Right. Look, Teags”—he sounds so distracted I don’t think he even noticed he gave me a nickname—“I’m kinda busy—”
“But—”
“—so I’ll just see you later—”
“Wait!” I cry out, afraid I will hear the dial tone any second.
“Actually, you probably won’t see me later. I’m going to be—”
“I BURNED YOUR HOUSE DOWN!” I scream into the phone and am finally met with silence. “Joey?” I whisper, fearful he already hung up.
“Can you repeat that for me?” he finally gasps out.
“I …” Now I feel nervous. “I … umm … I accidently”—I use too much emphasis on the word, making me sound extra guilty—“burned down your house.”
“Are you okay?”
My heart skips a beat. I just told this man that I burned down his house and his first thought is if I’m okay?
“Some smoke inhalation, but nothing serious. I’m so sorry about your things—”
“How about Karma?”
“Karma got out fine. She’s with the Glovers,” So … maybe she’s not okay. The almost ninety-year-old couple may not be quite at the same speed as Karma.
As he sighs in relief, my hands begin to shake again.
“Joey, I’m so sorry.”
“How much damage?”
“A lot,” I say quietly. “The fire was contained to your place, but what isn’t burned has smoke or water damage now,” I repeat what I overheard one of the officers say. I saw a lot of destruction before I was taken away, an image that will haunt me for a long time.
When he’s quiet again, I take the opportunity to blather on, hoping I’m not going to make him madder at me.
“And I’m so sorry to put this on you, especially after what I just told you, but I need a favor.”
“A favor?” he snaps.
“I know I don’t deserve one from you, but … well, I used my opportunity to call you instead of a lawyer.”
With the way the officer is eyeing me, I don’t think he will let me make another call.
How long can they keep me here? Is this some sor
t of test? Am I failing it just by being on the phone with Joey?
“Huh? Lawyer? What are you talking about?”
“I told the police officer that I had to call my lawyer, but then I thought you deserved—”
“Where are you?” he snaps again. I don’t like knowing I upset Joey, and each bite of his words is like a slash over my heart.
“I’m at the police station—”
“You’ve been arrested?” he hisses.
“Well, no. I mean, not yet. I’ve been told leaving would make me look guilty, and technically, I did burn down your house, so I don’t want them to form that conclusion.” Has he already forgotten that part?
“You said it was an accident!”
“It was!” I quickly assure him. “But it was still my fault—”
“You can’t be arrested because of something that was an accident, and you can’t be held against your will when they haven’t placed you under arrest, which they can’t do if this hasn’t been ruled a criminal case.” He sounds exasperated with me.
“But the officer said …” I try to think of his exact wording, but I’m so tired that it’s all beginning to feel like a blur now.
“Teags, just tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.”
“I was lighting your fireplace to warm your place up, and as soon as I lit the match, Karma knocked me over. Next thing I know, the couch is on fire, and that quickly spread to your curtains, and … well, you can guess the rest.”
“Shit, are you sure you’re—”
“Time’s up,” the officer says, yanking the phone out of my hand and hanging up.
Well, at least Joey won’t have a shock when he goes home. Still, I didn’t get a chance to tell him which police station I’m at, or get any assurances that he will help me.
He seemed to think I couldn’t be held here against my will, so should I just leave? How do I manage that? I don’t have any money, and I just used my one phone call to talk to Joey.
How did my life get to this point?
***
Twenty minutes of silent debate later, my decision is made for me.
Joey enters the station and is led into the interrogation room, a room I have still yet to be questioned in.
“Joey?” I gasp when I watch him enter the mirrored room I have spent too much time stuck in, wondering how he seems to be able to suck all the air out of the room; how his presence, which seems annoyed, takes up every inch of space.
Why do I constantly get knocked back in awe by how striking he is? I’m a grown woman; this shouldn’t be happening.
“Thank God you came!” I continue, only just resisting jumping up and down on the spot, partly because I’m tired, and partly because I’m still trying to catch my breath as it is.
“Of course I came. Are you sure you’re okay?” He grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet and dragging me quickly and purposely out of the stuffy room.
“Yeah, Karma and I got out of there quickly once we realized how out of control the flames were.”
“And how about here? Were you treated okay?” He eyes the cops around us as we just walk out of there. I feel like a bit of an idiot for not just doing it myself. Not only was the door unlocked, but they clearly had no right to hold me the way they did.
Then I glance down at myself and see I’m still in my pajamas, thinking it was better being hidden back in that room, after all.
I can’t believe Joey is seeing me like this. I was supposed to be over at his place for a few minutes, and then back in my bed straight afterward, snugged up warmly under the covers.
I shrug. “They treated me fine. I was mostly left alone. Listen, I’m so sorry about your place. I can’t believe … I don’t know how I’m going to—”
“It’s fine,” he says, sounding genuine, which makes zero sense.
“No, it’s not. You lost everything. I don’t know what I would do if I was in your position.”
Just as I say this, we take our first steps outside, only to find the sun is already beginning to rise. Just how long was I in that police station?
“I didn’t lose everything. I’m fine, Karma is fine, and everything that burned are just things. Things can be replaced.” He gives me a shrug, as well as what I deem a famous Joey half-smile. One side of his lips lift, a dimple shows, and laugh lines crinkle around his eyes.
“How are you so calm?” I demand, ready to have a breakdown, whereas Joey acts like all I did was kill his lawn.
Houses and personal belongings don’t just grow back!
I’m so out of it I don’t realize he’s still holding my hand until we are outside his car and he lets go to open the door for me.
With a nudge of his palm over the small of my back, he gets me seated into his SUV. I belt up as he rushes around the front and gets in, starting up the car and setting the heater on high.
I glance down at myself again, feeling nervous as I pick at my pajamas, looking forward to a shower and getting out of these sooty clothes. This then brings me to a new thought.
“Shit, you don’t have any clothes or a place to stay.” Guilt clogs my throat, making it hard to swallow, let alone speak.
“I’ll manage,” he states confidently and soothingly.
I wish I had that type of conviction in myself.
How is he so calm right now?
“No, you should stay with me.” The offer is out of my mouth before I can fully think it through.
What am I doing? I might like Joey from afar, but I have been his neighbor for six months; I know what he’s like. And tonight, I got a firsthand look into how he lives.
I open my mouth to take it back, but that feels like a shit thing to do—offer someone a place to stay then immediately rescind it. Besides, it isn’t like he is going to take me up on the offer.
“That would seriously be awesome. My two best friends are sort of wrapped up in their love lives at the moment. Zander just got married last year, and Declan is dating our other friend Sasha, so I know my ears will bleed if I have to listen to them together.”
Okay, I might not have thought it through when I offered, but is he seriously going to take me up in it!
“You only have two friends?” I end up asking, thinking over the droves of women I have seen coming in and out of his place. There must be another more appealing option than staying with me.
“I have others I could stay with. Are you taking your offer back?” he even asks this calmly, like he wouldn’t worry either way.
I pause before I answer, because I really want to. I haven’t lived with someone else since my divorce. And I rather like living alone. But how much of a monster would that make me?
“Of course not. I burned your place down, the least I can do is house you while you figure out what you’re going to do.”
He turns his head to give me a huge grin, making my breath catch. Joey has an amazing full smile, one I don’t think has ever been directed at me. This one shoots his half-smile out of the park.
I take this chance to glance over Joey. I have always had a thing for Asian men, going back to my first crush being Jet Li, and cultivating in my weekly obsession of Hawaii Five-0. Anytime Chin Ho Kelley comes on screen, I melt.
Joey is completely my type—fit, tall, his dark hair in disarray, and stubble over his face, which I have never seen him without. My fingers are dying to run across it. The only downside to him is his wandering tastes.
All types of women have left his house, from small to large, blonde to dark-haired, and all different skin tones. It seems Joey’s type of woman is a woman. Not that I’m apparently his type. He has never glanced at me twice. I mean, when I called him earlier, he couldn’t even remember who I was. He hasn’t even considered messing around with me, and as sad at it is, knowing that hurts.
My confidence took a hit when I not only walked in on my husband doing the nasty with someone who I thought was my best friend, but also when he decided to come clean about his affair. An affair he had been eng
aged in since before we got married.
I was heartbroken, completely shattered. Even now, my heart aches when I think about it.
I vowed to myself I would never go back there, and while years have now passed and I’m more open to the option of love, I am not open to trying to tame a man who can’t even decide who his type of woman is.
Joey has heartbreak written all over him. I refuse to go there with him … you know, if he ever tried with me … which he hasn’t.
Stupid man.
“So, why were you in my house, anyway? I got your voicemail, but I didn’t get a chance to listen to it.” There is no blame in his voice, just honest curiosity.
How can he not be accusing right now? How can he not be angry that, because of my actions, accident or not, he has now lost his home?
“Karma was crying. I knew you had been out all day, and I thought she was probably hungry. I couldn’t sleep with her like that, so I went over.” I leave out my snooping ways or reminding him that I then burned his house down.
“Sorry, I was out later than I expected,” he apologizes.
Apologizes!
“Out with a woman?” I blurt then hold my breath in case something else mortifying spurts out of me.
“Nah, working.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t seem bothered that I asked.
“Where do you work?” I have always wanted to know, but the few conversations we have had have usually been about Karma.
“I work for Jameson Private Investigations.”
“You’re a private investigator?” My mind races with this news. Joey’s occupation has been a fun factor in a lot of my fantasies. Not knowing what he does has meant I have imagined him doing many different jobs, obviously them all ending with him ripping his clothes off and demanding to take me.
I sort of hoped he had some sort of uniform, knowing deep down the possibility was low, given he always wears casual clothes, like jeans and a button-up shirt, or on rare occasions, a nice suit. Still, a girl can hope … and fantasize.
“Yep, sure am.”
“Is that why you work such weird hours?” I never could get a figure on his schedule. It’s always changing.
I Burned Down His House (Love at First Crime Book 3) Page 2