Gini shook her head and hated herself. What kind of a woman didn’t respect a man’s privacy? What kind of a woman thought only about what she wanted? Good Goddess, she was so stupid.
She looked at Patrick, and his eyes held so much hurt in them. Gini had a hundred things she wanted to say—a hundred apologies—but didn’t get the chance.
The gazebo up on the lawn behind her erupted into flames, and Gini ran. Ran from her anger. Ran from the pain she’d caused Patrick. Ran from the fire she’d started.
Four trees went up in a red-orange fury as Gini bolted for the cottage. She wasn’t using any of her calming tricks. She wasn’t thinking of how to cool down. Her rage—her disgust with herself—consumed her like the fire burning the gazebo and the trees.
When she reached the cottage, she ripped open the door and stumbled inside, running headlong into Lily.
“What the fuck is happening out there?” Lily asked.
“Call 911,” Gini managed. Her body was a limp rag, completely drained.
“No shit. Already did that.” Lily put a steadying hand on Gini’s shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
Gini shook her head. “I just…help me calm down. I need to stop the anger.”
“Don’t we all.” Lily tugged on her lip ring then put her other hand on Gini’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“Water,” Gini rasped. “Get me some water.”
Lily shrugged and went to the kitchen. Gini slid to the foyer floor and rested her head against the front door. She started counting, but her mind kept going back to Patrick’s chest. She should have gone to him as he lay on that towel, exposed and…afraid. Told him he didn’t have to hide from her. Told him he was beautiful in her eyes, because he was. But her anger hadn’t allowed her to.
Something sparked in the kitchen and Lily yelped. Gini banged her head against the door and forced herself to use her techniques. She breathed deeply, recited poems, named the colors of the rainbow over and over again until the rage fizzled. Gini barely had control of it. She guzzled the water Lily had brought her.
“The toaster cord caught on fire,” Lily said. “Had to throw the first glass of water on it.”
Gini wiped her mouth on her arm and mopped her brow with the back of her hand. Slowly, she stood and climbed the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Lily asked.
“Home. I have to go home.”
Gini gathered all her belongings and tossed them into her suitcase. She slid a gauzy skirt and tank top over her bathing suit and grabbed her purse. Her father was right. She couldn’t be on her own. She wasn’t safe to be around.
She was also a huge jerk.
Stifling the prickle of anger trying to push to the surface, Gini left the cottage and headed for her SUV. Fire trucks filled the semi-circular drive, and a police officer made her wait to back out. She tapped her hands on the steering wheel as she watched fighters drag hoses to the gazebo and trees. She caught a quick glimpse of Patrick being escorted by the EMT to one of the ambulances.
She should throw the car into park and go to him. Explain why she had to leave right now. Explain that she was a monster. Explain that she wanted to be with him no matter what he thought he had to hide from her beneath his shirt.
The police officer knocked on her window signaling she was good to go. Gini took one last look at Patrick, for she knew it would probably be her last, and pulled out of the driveway. The fighters would put out her blazes. Patrick would have that cut tended to. She’d go home and have her parents…contain her. She shouldn’t be among the rest of the humans. Not only was she dangerous with her pyrokinesis, she was also a horrible person. Just horrible.
****
Patrick didn’t flinch as the doctor stitched his side. The scarred skin around the new injury wasn’t sensitive to the touch anymore. Hadn’t been since the burns had healed. If you could call that skin healed, that is.
He reviewed the afternoon’s events as the doctor finished up. The rescue made sense. Standard protocol on his part. Patrick hadn’t thought about what he was doing. He just did it. The skier, he was told, was going to be fine. Couple of gashes and a broken ankle, but other than that the kid had gotten lucky. The boat had been caught before it was totally submerged and had been towed to the nearest marina. The other young man and the girl had escorted their friend to the hospital. They were shaken up, but not hurt. The driver admitted to being a little tipsy behind the wheel of the boat. His judgment had been off, and he’d gotten too close to the pier. Stupid kids.
What didn’t make sense were the fires. The gazebo and trees had gone up like firework displays. Bang. Instant explosions of flames. Patrick couldn’t understand what had happened.
And then there was Gini. She made sense too. She’d taken one look at his scars and ran for it. Just as he’d known she would. She didn’t want to be stuck looking at his mess. Hell, if he could run away, he would have a long time ago. But there was nowhere for him to go. He had to accept he was spoiled goods and destined to be alone for the rest of his life.
“There. All set, Mr. Barre,” the doctor said.
“Thank you.” Patrick slid off the exam table.
“Mind if I ask about those?” The doctor pointed to the scars.
“House fire,” Patrick said. “When I was sixteen.”
“I see,” the doctor said. “Did you explore plastic surgery options?”
“Yes. Some of the scars are better than they would be because of plastic surgery.” Patrick accepted the white T-shirt the doctor handed him. “But this is as good as they’ll ever get.”
“Burns are tough,” the doctor said.
“Now there’s a bumper sticker.” Patrick offered a weak smile and left the exam room. His pants were almost dry, but when he pulled out his cell phone, it was not going to be calling anyone again. Sand was caked between the buttons and water was trapped behind the screen. His wallet hadn’t fared much better.
Patrick stopped at the front desk. “Is there a phone I can use to call a ride?” He set his destroyed cell phone on the desk, and the receptionist gave him an empathetic smile.
“You saved that water skier, right?” she asked.
Patrick nodded.
“I suppose I can let a hero use my phone.” Her grin widened as she pushed her desk phone over to him.
“Thank you.” Patrick dialed Raina’s cell phone, and she picked up on the fourth ring.
“Who is this?” she asked. “I don’t know this number.”
“It’s me, Raina,” Patrick said. “Look, I’m all right, but—”
“What happened? Oh, God. Where are you?”
“Raina, listen.” He’d known she would freak. “I’m okay. Just needed a couple of stitches. Can you come get me at the hospital?”
“You sure you’re all right?”
As all right as I’m going to be. “Yes. Fine. Just come.”
“On my way.”
Raina hung up, and Patrick thanked the receptionist for the use of her phone.
“Any time.” She looked Patrick over. “Anything else I can do for you?” She arched an eyebrow.
Patrick felt like pulling up the T-shirt to save time and energy. One peek and she’d lose that seductive smile in seconds.
“I’m all set. Have a good one.” He walked through the automatic double doors and sat on a bench outside to wait for Raina.
When she pulled up to the curb, Patrick eased into the passenger seat. Raina looked at him, but he shook his head.
“Later, okay? Later.”
Raina reached over and squeezed his hand as she merged back into the traffic. He wanted to get back to his woods in Vermont. Back to his Fortress of Solitude. A solitude that would probably crush him now that he knew what it was like to hold and kiss—to want—a woman like Gini. But he couldn’t have her.
She didn’t want him.
****
Night had fallen by the time Gini pulled her SUV into Jonah’s driveway. Her father’s truck was p
arked next to the Mustang, and Gini let out a breath, relieved that her family was all in one spot. The drive had calmed her some. Enough that she hadn’t set any passing tractor-trailers on fire anyway.
Empty. That was all she felt right now. Drained of all emotion and strength.
She made it to Jonah’s front door and opened it. Two things hit her right away. One was her mother’s laughter floating on the air as she cracked up over something on the television. The sound enveloped Gini, pulled her into the living room, brought tears to her eyes. The second was Midas’s paws scritch-scratching on the hardwood floor as he trotted over to her.
Gini kneeled and buried her face in the dog’s soft fur. He licked her ear and made happy doggy noises as his tail wagged back and forth. Why weren’t humans this easy to read?
“Oh, sweetie,” Liz said as soon as she saw Gini. Her face went from apology mode to panic mode in two seconds flat. “What’s wrong, Gini?” She was on her feet and pulling Gini into a hug.
Walter helped Jonah up from the couch, and they joined the embrace. Gini soaked in their energy, their protection, their love.
“Gini,” Walter said, “I’m sorry. I should have never—”
“No, Daddy.” Gini stepped out of the Claremont group hug and shook her head. “I understand why you thought what you thought. I was hurt. I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t. What you said to me cut deep.”
Walter’s face contorted as he tried to keep his emotions in check. His pale blue eyes grew glossy, and he opened his mouth to speak. Gini held up a hand to stop him.
“I didn’t set the fires in Burnam,” she said, “but I set five in Newport today.”
“Five!” Jonah and Liz said at the same time.
Walter pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat. He rubbed his temples and said, “Tell us what happened, Gini.”
They all sat, and Gini relayed the events of the day. Every last detail right down to Patrick’s scars.
“I’ve been such a jackass,” she said. “I was pushy and unsympathetic and—”
“But, honey,” Liz said, “you didn’t know.”
“So what did you say, you know, after you saw the scars?” Jonah had been strangely quiet throughout Gini’s retelling of the episode.
“Nothing,” Gini said. “I ran because I was angry and I’d set the gazebo on fire, the trees. I had to get out of there.”
Jonah nodded slowly. “Before Patrick rescued the kid, you guys were…getting along nicely?”
Gini’s cheeks got hot. “Yeah, we were having a wonderful time.” She paused. “Well, at least I was. I thought Patrick was too, but maybe he was trying to figure out how to keep me from…” She glanced up at her parents and dropped her head into her hands. “Keep me from trying to get him out of his clothes.”
“A man with bad scars on the surface probably has worse ones inside,” Walter said. “You don’t want to get involved in that, Gini. We have enough to deal with.”
“Walter,” Liz said. Her thin brows furrowed as she looked at her husband. “Gini might be the one to help Patrick with the inside scars.”
Gini raised her head and studied her mother’s face. “Me? No, I think Daddy’s right. I’d only bring Patrick more problems. I caused five fires today, Mama. Five. I’m a public menace.”
Walter shook his head. “Don’t say that, Gini. Your control has been so good for so long. I was wrong to insinuate you’d caused the fires here. In fact, while you and Patrick were in Rhode Island, there was a fire at Groveston’s Market. Mason found a candle and gasoline trail. Same deal.”
Gini was sorry to hear Groveston’s had been hit, but also a little relieved hard proof she hadn’t set the fires existed. As far as she knew, she had to be close by for her pyrokinesis to show off its glorious power.
Jonah slid his unbound hand across the table and took Gini’s. “I think Ma might be right.”
“About?” Gini asked.
“About you being the one to help Patrick heal inside. Obviously, he feels like he’s got to hide from the world. I thought he was just a private kind of guy, but clearly it’s more than that. You ran from the anger, not the scars, right?”
“Yes,” Gini said. “I was so mad at myself and maybe a little at Patrick because he wanted me to go while the EMT tended to him. The scars were pretty extensive, but…” Gini swallowed around a lump in her throat. “But I still wanted him.”
“He needs to know that, sweetie,” Liz said as she took Gini’s other hand. “You need to tell him.”
Gini pulled her hands from her mother’s and brother’s grips. “No. I need to leave Patrick alone. That’s what he’s wanted all along. I was too busy being Miss Persistent to realize he didn’t move to Vermont to be hassled. He wants his privacy. I’m going to give it to him.”
“That’s best,” Walter said. “Best for everyone.” He shot a warning glance to Jonah and Liz that Gini completely agreed with.
Haddy came in the front door toting two pizza boxes and a case of beer. “Hey, Gini,” she said as she dumped it all on the kitchen island. “Thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”
“I was done tonight.” Gini glanced at the rest of her family, assured their discussion was over as well.
“Well, there’s enough pizza if you’re hungry.” Haddy pulled out plates and napkins.
“Doesn’t she look good in my kitchen?” Jonah asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“I think you mean your kitchen looks good because she’s in it,” Gini said. “This is officially the longest this place has been clean.”
“We should send her over to Mason’s,” Jonah said.
“If we want to kill her, sure,” Walter said.
Haddy laughed. “I saw Mason while I was out this afternoon. He hired a maid to clean his home.”
“He what?” Gini asked. Somehow this day-to-day, normal conversation was doing wonders for the splitting headache she’d developed over the last hour of her drive from Rhode Island. She had a plan now. She’d stay away from Patrick. Give him his space, and she’d allow her family to keep a closer watch on her.
Haddy brought the pizza to the table, serving Jonah first with a huge smile to go along with his slice. “Patrick told Mason that Raina was like him.”
For a moment, the Claremonts tensed simultaneously. Was Raina scarred too? Gini thought. Raina didn’t seem as secretive as Patrick.
“She likes a tidy house, so Mason hired a maid to clean his man-cave before he invited Raina over.” Haddy pulled out a chair and sat next to Jonah. She bit into a slice of pizza then asked, “Are Patrick and Raina back too, Gini?”
“I don’t know.” Gini opened her beer and busied herself with a long swig of it.
“Mason’s going bananas waiting for Raina. The guy has got it bad.” Haddy chuckled.
“He’s not the only one.” Jonah slapped a kiss on Haddy’s cheek as she sat back beside him. He raised his eyes slowly so he met Gini’s across the table.
Gini shook her head. She didn’t have it bad like Jonah and Haddy or Mason and Raina.
She didn’t have anything.
****
Patrick stretched out in his bed, stopping when the slice in his side stung, and rested his palms on his chest. He’d worn a T-shirt to bed last night, not able to bear brushing up against the scars by accident while he slept.
Sleep. As if he’d had any last night. The old nightmare of the house fire had replayed itself all night long. Over and over he’d heard his sisters’ screams, the thunderous roar of the flames. Every now and then, Gini’s voice had screamed along with his sisters for some reason.
Patrick’s head ached.
Visiting Julianne before they’d left Rhode Island hadn’t helped any. He hadn’t been in the mood. He’d wanted to get home, but he’d said he would go see her and if nothing else, he was man of his word.
The visit had been rigid, full of carefully worded conversation and apologetic tones. He was sorry he’d left in a huff
to move to Vermont. Julianne was sorry she’d given him a hard time. And then there had been the last thing Julianne had said to him. The thing that had also plagued him while he tried to sleep last night.
“There’s something different about you.” Julianne sat forward in her wheelchair, her scarred arms resting on her knees.
Patrick shook his head. “No, there isn’t. I’m absolutely the same as I’ve been for the past million years.” Some days it felt as if he’d truly been alive for that long. Today had turned into one of those days. It hadn’t started out that way. Bright sunshine. Fantastic bike ride along the coast with an amazing woman. A kiss on the beach with an amazing woman. A successful rescue. And then it all went to Hell.
“I see hope in your eyes, Patrick.” Julianne’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Something’s changed.”
He looked at Julianne then. Really looked at her. She was paralyzed and stuck in that wheelchair. Her arms, neck, and half of her face were in worse shape than his chest and thigh, and yet she was…content. She had friends. She had her book-editing work that she did from home. She had a freaking life, which was more than Patrick could say about himself at the moment.
Hope. Julianne had seen hope. Hope for what? Hope that Gini’s mind would be mysteriously erased, and the memory of what she’d seen of him wiped out. Hope that he’d wake up one morning and be whole again. Hope that he wouldn’t have to live out his days alone.
So alone.
Patrick shifted in bed, some of his muscles aching from the work he’d done after Raina had dropped him off yesterday. Work he’d done to stop his mind from brooding and exhaust his body. Work that had achieved neither of those things, but at least he had a partially completed ceiling in the master bedroom to show for it.
He slid his legs out of bed and sat for a moment. The house was ultra-quiet without Midas nosing around somewhere and Whisper, though she didn’t meow, had added some noise with her exploring of the house. Patrick decided it was time to get his furry companions back from Jonah’s then spend the day finishing that ceiling and whatever other work he could bury himself in.
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