He had barely parked his truck in his driveway, when he told his cousin, “Help me move those boxes on Diana’s lawn into the backyard.”
“You guys don’t have to do that,” I protested.
Trip walked by me. “Take the help, Miss Independent.”
I couldn’t help it, despite everything going around in my brain, I shook my head at him. “Fine. Help me then.”
Between the two of them, and with one, “What the hell is in these? Lead weights?” from Trip, they carried both boxes into the backyard, holding them high above the four-foot fence with only a small amount of grunting to get them over.
The moment the second one was set in the backyard for Mac to bark at later, Trip wiped his hands on his pants. “I’m gonna get going. There’s some business at the bar I need to handle before it closes. Di, we’ll have a play date again, I’m sure.”
“As long as you don’t ever say ‘play date’ again.”
He laughed and gave me a hug. “See you later, honey. Tell the boys I said bye. See ya, Dal,” he called out, closing the gate behind him with a wave of his fingers as he headed toward his bike.
Josh and Louie had gone straight inside, and it was only us two in the yard with the light outside the kitchen door illuminating the space for us.
There wasn’t a specific emotion on Dallas’s face; in fact, he looked so detached and unemotional, part of me felt like I’d fucked up telling him about who I’d been to let that happen to me years ago. Maybe he saw me different now. He saw that Diana instead of the one I was today and didn’t like her.
I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t like that Diana much either, honestly.
He was looking down at the crates when he finally spoke to me for the first time in almost an hour. “I wanna take a look at the inside so I can see what tools you need. You have a hammer by any chance?”
When I had started rubbing my palm on my jeans, I had no idea. “I have tools. I have a hammer. Let me grab it. It’s inside.”
Dallas still didn’t glance up as I went into my kitchen and grabbed my toolbox from one of the cabinets, lugging the colorful, metal container against my leg as I headed outside with it.
“God, this thing is heavy,” I told him as I walked down the steps with it. His attention was still on the ground as I dropped it right beside one of the crates, admiring the paint job my best friend had given it.
But as I looked up at the man who I thought was my friend and had just, barely an hour ago, offered to go kill someone for me, I frowned. He was staring, really staring, down at my toolbox. And as furious as his expression had been when I told him about my ex, it was nothing compared to the one that he had right then.
What was wrong with my box?
I toed it, glancing back and forth between it and him, not understanding. “It was my brother’s. I kept it after we sold most of his stuff, but it made me too sad and my best friend painted it for me. I thought it was fun. They look like those Giga Pets I used to have when I was a kid,” I explained. “They’re puppies. Who doesn’t like puppies?”
The exhaled, “Jesus fucking Christ,” had me frowning at Dallas.
I watched as both his hands went up to his head and he cupped each side of his skull, interlacing his fingers at the top.
“What is it?” I asked, suddenly getting a little frustrated at his reaction.
He didn’t seem to hear me as he sighed, the sound distraught and almost furious.
“What the hell did I do?” I asked him, not understanding but wanting to.
Dallas was still focused on the toolbox when he answered me, his voice thick and strained. “I can’t do this tonight, Diana. I can’t fucking do this right now.”
“Do what?”
“You’re—” He closed his eyes and covered them with his palms for a moment before dropping his arms at his sides. He finally raised his gaze to mine, something in those hazel irises looking pained as he said, “I’ll help you build it. Don’t ask your dad. I just can’t do it right now. Okay?”
“That’s all right.” I took in his stricken features all over again. “Are you okay?”
He lifted a hand but didn’t confirm yes or no. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He took a step back and eyed my toolbox one more time, his chest taking a big inhale and a bigger exhale. “Night.”
“Goodnight,” I called out to him as he turned and headed out of the backyard through the gate, closing it behind him. Then he was jogging across the street and disappearing up his pathway to his deck.
What the hell had just happened?
Chapter Nineteen
I knew before I even opened my eyes that Louie was standing by the side of the bed again. I just fucking knew, but it didn’t scare me any less.
“There’s a fire,” he whispered immediately before I could remind him he needed to quit scaring me in the middle of the night.
And, just like that, at his words, I sat straight up in bed and took a big inhale. “What?” I asked, knowing he wouldn’t be lying about something like that.
“The house is on fire,” he barely had to say before I threw the covers back, reaching for my phone at the same time.
“Our house?” I pretty much screeched, my thumb already hitting 9-1.
“No,” he answered. His little hands went to mine and squeezed. “The granny’s house.”
“Who?” I blinked.
“The granny. The old lady, Tia, remember? Miss Pearly?”
“Oh shit,” came out of my mouth before I could censor myself.
Louie backed up and tugged at my fingers. “Come on.”
I went, resisting the urge to finish dialing the emergency number until I saw it. I mean, there could be a fire over there, but it didn’t have to mean it was a house fire… didn’t it? Not that there would be a reason why anyone would be having a bonfire at a ninety-something-year-old’s house. Louie ran down the hallway that led toward the living room, and I followed behind, glued to his grasp. I’d forgotten to close the curtains so I saw the yellows and oranges and reds before I even made it to the window. He hadn’t been exaggerating.
Miss Pearl’s house was on fire.
At least the back of it was from what I could see. The porch was untouched by the flames licking at the sides by where I knew her bedroom was.
Holy fuck. Her bedroom!
I slapped my phone into Louie’s hand as I scanned the houses on either side of Miss Pearl’s, but there was nothing there to see. No one was standing outside. No one knew what was happening, and later I’d worry about how and why Louie had been awake at 2:00 a.m. to see that our neighbor’s house was on fire.
“Goo, you know our address right?” I asked even as I stepped away from him, my heart beating so fast I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Yes,” he squeaked, his eyes wide and caught on the flames.
“Call 911 and tell them there’s a fire. I need to go help Miss Pearl, okay?” My voice was quick and panicked, and it was so obvious that Lou turned to look at me, his eyes widening even more.
“You’re going in there?” He was scared.
And I understood, I really did, but what was I supposed to do? Sit in my house and do nothing? “I have to. She’s old. She might still be in there,” I explained quickly, dropping to my knee even though I knew every second counted. “We have to help her, but I need you to call so I can run in there, okay? I’ll be as fast as I can, but don’t move from here, Louie. Don’t leave the house.”
I wanted to promise him I would be back, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t do that.
Even with the lights turned off, I could see his lip trembling, feel the tension and fear rolling off him in waves as his five-year-old brain wrapped around the same possibility mine did. I was going into a burning house, but there was no other choice.
I stood up and nudged at his hands. “Call right now—and don’t leave the house. I love you!”
Tears filled those blue eyes I was so in love with, and later on, I could appreciate how matur
e he was being by not begging me to stay even though I knew it was probably killing him inside. But I had to go.
I blew a kiss at Lou and ran out of the house, only barely managing to stick my feet into the flip-flops I’d kicked off at the door when I got home earlier.
And I ran.
I didn’t even bother closing the door behind me; I just sprinted across the street like I’d never sprinted in my life, trusting that Louie knew what he was doing. In hindsight, I should have woken up Josh who wasn’t five years old, but there hadn’t been any time and… what were the chances that Miss Pearl had gotten out on her own? Maybe she was standing somewhere I couldn’t see.
But as I quickly glanced around at the surrounding houses, I saw the harsh reality: I was the only one who knew something was going on despite the crazy amount of smoke already polluting the sky. Dread filled my stomach, as well as this sense of I don’t what to do this, but I have to.
I had to. I knew I did. I couldn’t just pretend.
I shot a quick glance at Dallas’s house, but there wasn’t time to go bang on his door and try to wake him up. Fires were fast, weren’t they? And if it took him or Jackson a while to get up…
My legs pumped even faster as I hit the white picket fence around her front yard, slapping the gate wide open as I vaulted up the three steps leading to her porch in an act I couldn’t appreciate.
Like a complete moron, I grabbed the door handle, forgetting everything I’d learned in elementary school about what you were supposed to do during a fire.
The “motherfucking fucker” that came out of me as the metal burned my palm was lost in the night sky and smoke. Cradling my hand to my chest, I thought for a brief second about kicking the door open, but I didn’t. Who did I think I was? Leonidas in 300? I had flip-flops on and there was no way I was strong enough to do that.
After that, everything was a blur.
For the rest of my life, I’d remember breaking Miss Pearl’s window with one of her garden gnomes and climbing inside, trying my best not to cut myself. I would never forget the smoke and how strong it was. How it filled everything, every inch of my skin, the surface of every single one of my teeth, the back of my throat, my very fucking heart and my poor lungs. There was no way I could forget how bad my eyes stung and how much I regretted running out in my underwear and a tank top that wasn’t long enough for me to at least cover my mouth.
And I would remember finding Miss Pearl crawling across the floor in the kitchen where I’d cut her hair in the past. I could never forget the terror on her face as I helped her up, shouting words I didn’t think either one of us knew what they were.
There was no way I would ever forget how hard I was coughing either. How I felt like I couldn’t breathe and how I didn’t understand how Miss Pearl was still doing it when I’d only been in the house for a second. I carried a lot of her weight on our way out because I knew I was rushing even though she couldn’t move very quickly. I’d seen her walk normally and running wasn’t an option. But everything stung and I wanted to get the hell out of there before the fire spread or before something else happened. I’d seen Backdraft as a kid. There weren’t any beams that could fall on us, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.
“My cat,” the woman somehow managed to tell me. “She’s inside.”
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t process what she was saying. I was too worried and scared about getting out of there with her, especially when she couldn’t walk fast. I forgot about my hand as I undid the lock and opened the front door, so relieved to be almost out of there.
We made it passed the lawn as we both hacked up our lungs. My back, neck, and cheeks burned and itched. But we kept going across the street where I could spot both boys standing at the doorway with Josh holding the phone to his face.
They ran out as I helped Miss Pearl onto the grass. I’d told Louie not to leave the house, but I wasn’t about to remind him he had ignored me.
“Are you okay?” Josh asked as he and Louie barreled into me, throwing their arms around me like spider monkeys, oblivious to the woman by their feet.
“The firefighters are coming,” Louie said quickly.
“Diana, my cat is in the house,” Miss Pearl’s voice pleaded, as something I could only assume was her hand landed on my thigh.
I was coughing, hugging the boys back as her words finally sank in.
“Diana, Mildred is still in there,” she repeated herself. “She has bad eyes and can’t see good.”
I eyed the house over the top of the boys’ heads, noticing that it wasn’t engulfed in flames yet, despite how smoky everything inside had been.
“Please,” Miss Pearl pleaded.
Honestly, I wanted to cry as I got up, disentangling the boys from around me. Did I want to go save her cat? No. But how could I let it die? If it was Mac…
I met Josh’s eyes because there was no way I could look at Lou right then. “I’ll be right back. I’ll be right, right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
And I ran again, not waiting for either of them to comment or beg me. My burned hand was against my chest as I crossed the street, through the white picket fence that I would forever associate with almost dying. The front door was open as I ducked in, trying to keep closer to the floor because I’d already learned my lesson about the smoke that had gotten worse over the last few minutes it had taken me to get Miss Pearl out of there.
“Mildred!” I yelled, squinting and trying to look around the floor of the living room. “Mildred!” The smoke was horrible, and I coughed up what felt like one of my lungs as I shoved at furniture, trying to find the damn old cat.
I wasn’t going to die for it. I couldn’t do that to the boys, but I also couldn’t live with Miss Pearl’s face if I didn’t at least try to get her pet back.
“Mildred!” I shrieked with my raw throat.
I barely heard the low meow. Barely. It was a miracle I did. With my eyes burning, my skin burning, my hand burning, I couldn’t believe I found the old, nearly blind calico hidden in a corner by the door, shaking. I scooped her up, wheezing, crying because my eyes stung so badly. The heat was horrible, and I didn’t know then that it would be a long time before I ever took a steaming hot shower again.
I ran out of the front door, coughing, coughing, coughing. I could barely see as I tried to make it down the steps, tripping and missing the bottom one, which sent me flying down the sidewalk, landing hard on my knees. The cat went running away from me and the fire as I hacked up a lung, panicking, knowing I needed to get away. Knowing the neighbors on either side of Miss Pearl needed to get away too.
But my legs weren’t working. Neither was my brain. I was too busy trying to get my lungs to breathe.
“You fucking idiot,” a voice exploded—angry, so angry—from somewhere nearby.
A split second later, two arms were around me, one under my knees, the other across my shoulders, and then I was up in the air, cradled against a chest as I hacked up coughs so strong my stomach hurt.
“You stupid, stupid idiot,” the voice hissed as I felt us moving.
I couldn’t even muster up the energy to figure out who the hell was carrying me, much less tell them I wasn’t an idiot.
My lungs wouldn’t work, and I only coughed harder, my entire body into it.
The male voice right by my head cursed and cursed again, “fuck” and “shit” and “goddammit.” The tone as bitter and harsh as the smoke had been. But I couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t care. My hand was starting to throb unbearably, and I still couldn’t catch my breath. There were other things to worry about.
I felt myself being lowered instead of actually seeing it. I felt the grass under my legs and bare feet—when the hell I lost my shoes, I had no idea. I heard Josh and Louie’s voices mixed in with other unfamiliar ones. I heard the wail of a fire truck’s siren most importantly, and maybe I heard the ambulance too.
But I was coughing too hard, trying to shield my hand.
Something s
oft swept over my eyes and mouth—a T-shirt. And still I coughed.
“Josh, get a glass of water,” the male voice ordered, low and grumbling against my ear. It was Dallas. It took me a second, but I knew it was him crouched by me, a weight around my back as a supporting gesture. He was the one who had carried me. Of course it was him. Who else would it be?
“Can you tell…” I couldn’t catch my breath. The side of my face was pressed against something hard and warm and steady. I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath. “Miss Pearl… I got her cat, but… she jumped out of my arms?”
“Fuck the fucking cat,” the voice by my ear spat out. What had to be his arm around my back moved lower, slinging around my hips. I was pulled in closer to what had to be his body at my side. Something pressed against my cheek, his words almost muffled. “You stupid little idiot. You stupid fucking idiot—”
“I had to,” I whispered to him, lifting my head. Had his lips been on my cheek?
“Had to? Had to?”
It was Louie, my poor wonderful Louie that explained it to him. “Daddy fell and hit his head, and nobody stopped to see him,” he told him, word for word in the same way I’d relayed the story to him in the past, minus a few details. “That’s why you gotta help people who need it,” he ended, his little chest shaking with emotion at the memories I was sure he was living through right now because of me.
Dallas glanced back and forth between Louie and me, his own body continuing with the tremors I’d originally felt. I was pretty sure he muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ,” but I couldn’t be positive.
“Dallas?” Miss Pearl’s soft, creaky voice managed to tear through my coughs.
“Don’t move, Diana,” Dallas barked. Something tender pressed against my temple and cheek. Somewhere in the back of my head, I guessed it was his nose to the side of my eye, his mouth at my cheek. “The ambulance will be here in a second. Don’t fucking move,” he told me one last time before his support left me.
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