He slowed the motorboat as he got close to the rowboat, but the rumbling engine was drowned out by another explosive clap of thunder.
“Be in there. Be in there. Be in there.” The chant was a prayer more than anything else.
The second he was close enough to see over the bow of the boat he spotted the sandy blond head of the little boy. The relief at seeing Grant in there was short-lived. The kid was petrified, curled up in a ball and shaking uncontrollably, his hands covering his ears.
“Grant!” Tripp shouted, making the kid jump as he rolled over and opened his eyes wide. “Come on buddy.” He leaned over, holding on to the side of the rowboat with one hand as he reached for the boy with the other. But Grant was just out of reach.
“I can’t,” Grant shook his head.
“Yes you can. You just need to move a little closer.”
Grant still wouldn’t move.
Tripp really didn’t want to have to get into the rowboat. That was going to make this whole thing way more complicated. All he needed was for one or both of them to fall into the lake.
“Grant, you can do this. Just shift over a little bit and give me your hand. I’m going to get you out of here. Come on. Get on your knees and crawl over to me. Can you do that?”
Grant nodded, his little chin trembling as he did what Tripp told him, and slowly sat up. Then he got onto his hands and knees and started to move closer. There were shouts from Beth coming from the shore, but Tripp couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Grant froze again as another boom of thunder shook the air, but by that point he was close enough for Tripp to grab. It took very little effort to lift the kid into the boat and seat him safely on the floor. Then they were off again, moving over the black, churning waters and back to shore.
Beth was on the edge of the dock, a clear beacon in the gloom with her lime green scrubs. Tripp slowed the engine again as he pulled in. When he was close enough, he reached down and grabbed Grant, lifting him out and handing him to his aunt.
Tripp followed, climbing out of the boat before quickly tying it back to the dock. When it was good and secure he turned and started running to catch up with Beth and Grant.
She was just stepping off the dock, her nephew still wrapped around her. His legs were at her waist, his arms at her shoulders while he cried into her neck. They all headed for the gate, Tripp moving in front of them so he could push the lever down. The second they were through it, he had his hand at the small of Beth’s back and was leading them up the slope of the lawn and to his house. He would’ve offered to carry the kid, but Grant was wrapped around her like a vise. There was no way the little guy was letting go.
Duke was at Beth’s other side, gently whining now as opposed to the full-on freak out he’d been having moments earlier.
“You’re okay,” Beth whispered over and over again, most likely reassuring herself just as much as she was reassuring Grant.
* * *
For about the fortieth time that night, Beth stuck her head in the door of the master bedroom and counted all three kids fast asleep in the king-size bed. The dim light shinning in from the living room was enough to illuminate the shapes of their bodies under the covers.
It was almost eleven o’clock, over four hours since Tripp had gotten Grant off the lake, and Beth still hadn’t stopped shaking.
She’d dealt with high stress situations a number of times in her life. How could she not when she worked with mothers who were giving birth? But this was different. This had been her kid.
She didn’t feel that way just because they were hers legally now. For all intents and purposes Nora, Grant, and Penny had been hers since they’d been born. They were part of her sister…and they were part of Beth. She’d felt them as they’d moved around in Colleen’s belly, been there for all three of their births, had never missed a single birthday for any of them. Had watched Nora take her first steps, witnessed Grant’s first giggle, heard Penny say her first word.
They were hers, and today she could’ve lost Grant. Her stomach churned painfully and she was pretty sure she was going to throw up…again.
It had taken a little while, but once Grant had calmed down he’d explained what had happened. It had all been a series of unfortunate events, starting off with him having a rough day at school.
Every Wednesday a folder was turned in with any forms or papers that had to be sent home for parents to look at. The kids got a sticker if they turned in a completed folder.
Well, Grant’s teacher Mrs. Fielding had been out sick with the flu, so when the substitute had been instructed to collect the folders, there’d been one thing missing from Grant’s: the sign-up form for “Bring Your Daddy to School Day.” When the teacher hadn’t given him a sticker because of his missing form he’d shut down.
Beth had given Grant the nickname Goose years ago, mainly because he was so silly, but also because of his laugh. A laugh she rarely ever heard anymore. Where Nora was acting out with her grief, Grant was on the opposite end. His parents’ death had made him retreat into himself.
When Grant got home after school, Nora had noticed that her brother was upset. He’d responded to her questions with as few words as possible and a couple of shrugs of the shoulder. As Nora preferred space to deal with her grief, she’d given her brother the same courtesy.
But Grant had done something different that afternoon. He’d gone out into the rowboat, the boat he’d helped his father refurbish when he was five. The boat he and his dad would go out onto the lake and fish or row around in. That afternoon he’d wanted to be close to his dad, needed to be close. So he’d lain down at the bottom of that boat and curled up with a blanket and pillow he’d dragged out. Once he’d gotten comfortable he’d started reading from the pile of books he’d brought. He escaped into stories when he wanted to get away from it all.
He’d tied the rope to the boat before he’d pushed himself out onto the lake. Even though he wasn’t good at rowing, he knew he could still pull himself back in with that rope. But Grant’s “secure” rope tying hadn’t been nearly secure enough. He’d fallen asleep in the middle of reading one of those books and hadn’t been aware of the boat drifting off…or the storm drifting in.
The first crack of thunder that shook the sky woke him up, and it was then that he’d discovered he was out in the middle of the lake. At that point he’d been too terrified to do anything besides curl up in a ball. He hadn’t heard Beth’s shouts from the shore, either, and she doubted he would’ve been able to move even if he had heard her.
It really wasn’t Nora’s fault. Grant always went out into the backyard unsupervised. But more often than not, he was curled up in the hammock on the porch or at the base of the oak tree with one of his books.
One word from Beth’s argument with Tripp that morning came back louder than ever: boundaries.
Grant knew he wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near the lake when an adult wasn’t home. Yeah, her nephew was more than a little lacking in the boundaries department. Who was she kidding? All of her kids were.
The relief of getting Grant back safe and sound had sidetracked any conversation she needed to have with Tripp. It wasn’t that Beth wanted to put it off; it was that it was hard for her to open her mouth long enough to formulate words without losing it.
She’d barely been able to say anything to Tripp besides “thank you.” Though that might’ve also had to do with him getting an emergency call pretty much the moment he’d walked her and Grant back to their house. He’d made sure they were in the door before he’d sprinted off.
The storm had blown in and out within two hours, but the winds had picked up steadily in the middle, wreaking havoc somewhere in Mirabelle.
Beth kept recalling the sight of Tripp out on that lake, and something unexpected made her heart clutch. Something she didn’t quite understand…not even a little bit.
Hell, Tripp was the man she’d screamed at like a lunatic that morning. The man who every single one of he
r closest friends liked. The man who hadn’t even thought twice before he’d gone out there to get Grant. And he’d done it so fast. He’d been out and back within two minutes. If she’d been the one to go out there? God, she probably would’ve fallen in trying to get Grant out.
She took one more long look at the kids before she grabbed the handle and pulled the door nearly closed, keeping only a gap big enough to stick her head through. The exhaustion coursing through her body was extreme, but there was no way in hell she was going to be able to fall asleep any time soon.
Instead she headed for the kitchen. An empty pizza box sat on the counter. She hadn’t been able to eat anything for dinner, probably the only reason she hadn’t thrown up again. At least the kids had been able to calm down enough to eat.
She grabbed the box from the counter and headed for the garage. The fluorescent lights flickered when she hit the switch, illuminating the space and the six brick steps that led to the ground. She slipped her flip-flops on before she headed to the door at the back of the garage. The backs of her shoes slapped against the concrete floor and the sound echoed around in her head.
Just more noise to add to the jumble that was already in her brain.
When she stepped outside she took a deep breath, hoping the fresh air would clear something. It cleared absolutely nothing. In fact, she just felt like she was suffocating.
Everything in her hurt and she couldn’t take another step. The box fell from her hand as she sat on the stone path that wrapped around the side of the house. She pressed her back against the brick wall, pulled her legs up to her chest, and buried her face in her knees. The sob that cracked out of her lungs broke her in two…or at least it sure as hell felt like it did.
God. Grant could’ve drowned today…or been struck by lightning…or any number of other possible scenarios that all ended the same way: Beth losing him.
“Beth?”
Her head snapped up to find Tripp standing in front of her. Of course he’d be the one to witness her having a breakdown. The universe was just that kind.
He was illuminated by the sensor light that had turned on when she’d stepped outside. She’d never felt quite as small as she did in that moment, with him standing over her. He had a foot or so on her when she was actually standing, and weighed a good hundred pounds more…so yeah, he was slightly imposing.
“I’m fine.” She pulled her gaze away from him, running her fingers under her streaming eyes.
“I know enough about women to know that word never means what it should mean.”
A somewhat bitter laugh escaped Beth’s mouth and she looked up at the black sky, resting her head on the wall behind her. “You’re right. It never does.”
Tripp’s boots moved through the grass until they made a low thud against the stone. And then he had his back against the wall as he lowered his body down next to hers. They sat in silence for a moment before he asked, “Did that really happen?”
Beth brought her head down and looked over at him. “Did what happen?”
“Did you just admit I was right?” His chocolate brown eyes were lit up with a bit of humor, and his mouth quirked to the side.
“Only a little.”
“You don’t have to be ‘fine’, you know. Or anything else you don’t want to be, for that matter.”
“I’m failing,” she whispered, pushing past the constriction in her throat. “That’s what I am, failing at being a parent to those three kids.” The confession burned its way out, the words like acid on her tongue.
The bitter, bitter truth.
“You aren’t failing. Good God, Beth, you have three of them and you’re raising them by yourself. My parents just had me and my mom will be the first to tell you she’s surprised I’m here today after all the shit I got into growing up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I won’t get into the details because it would probably just stress you out more to know what boys get into. But considering everything you’ve got on your plate? I think you’re doing a pretty damn good job.” He gave her another sidewise smile as he reached up and scratched his jaw, the sound of his beard under his nails filling her ears. “I mean, obviously I say all of these things more than a little grudgingly, as we can’t really have a conversation and not get into an argument.”
Another laugh bubbled out of Beth’s chest, but this one actually held a bit of real amusement. “I’m sorry about this morning. I was out of line.”
“So was I. That, uh, leash comment was way too far. And I’m sorry about your garden, too. I’ll pay you for the damage and fix it to the state it was in before Duke destroyed it.”
“Not necessary.” Beth shook her head. “It appears I owe you money for flat tires. And it’s going to be a few weeks before I can plant anything. Besides, I love being out there with my hands in the dirt. It makes me…” She trailed off, unsure of how she’d started down this path.
How in the world was it that she was confiding in Tripp Black? The man who until very recently she’d thought was a jerk.
Well, he’d proved her good and wrong, hadn’t he? He was something else entirely…something else that she hadn’t been prepared to discover. The type of man who risked his life for others. And yes, that was something she’d known before that afternoon, but seeing him in action? Witnessing him do it? That had been beyond eye-opening.
She’d been really, really wrong about him.
“It makes you what?” Within an instant those melty brown eyes of his pulled her in, making her feel…what, exactly?
Warm?
Safe?
Comforted?
She had no clue.
Not only that, but her fingers had the strangest urge to reach up and touch the scruff that dusted his strong jaw.
Bad urge. She mentally slapped her hand down. Where in the hell had that come from?
She forced herself to pull her gaze away and look forward at the less than thrilling view of the side of Tripp’s house. Yeah, looking into his face had been much better…if not slightly more dangerous. But this was a conversation she wasn’t going to have while looking into his eyes.
Nope.
“It makes me feel closer to my mother.”
Tripp was silent for a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke. “Her name was Dory, right?”
And just that fast she was looking at him again. She couldn’t stop herself. “How?” Her eyebrows raised in question.
“Your dad stops by the firehouse every once in a while for lunch. We’ve had a couple of conversations.”
It just figured that Tripp had won over her father as well. Wallace was a mechanic at King’s Auto, which was just a few doors down from the fire station.
“Yes, her name was Dory.” Beth nodded as she looked down at her hands, hands that had been taught to do things like create and cultivate by her mother. “Her two favorite things were baking and gardening. So whenever I do either of those things…well, it’s like she’s here again. Even if it’s just for a moment.”
“How old were you when she passed?”
“Thirteen. I was sitting at the dining room table doing homework while she ironed. One minute she was singing Billy Joel and…and the next she was gone.” She blinked, tears falling from her eyes and hitting the backs of her hands. When had she started crying again? “I can’t do it again. My mom, Colleen, Kevin…I can’t lose someone I love like that…so…so unexpectedly. I just can’t.”
Again, again the words were just spilling out of her mouth as if she had absolutely no control. What was even happening?
But her brain didn’t have a chance to formulate an answer. A moment later his hand covered hers, his thumb brushing across her knuckles and wiping away the tears that had fallen. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been.”
“It’s fucking awful. Grant could’ve died today.” Saying those words out loud caused more pain to course through her and the second they were out of her mouth she promptly proceeded to break down…again.
“Hey, now.” Tripp pulled her into his arms, and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her face to his neck. “I’ve got you, Beth,” he whispered as his hand moved up and down her spine. His other hand palmed the back of her head, holding her steady.
Before she even knew what she was doing, her hands were fisted in his shirt and she was holding on to him with something similar to a death grip. It had been ages since she’d been comforted by anyone like this and it felt so damn good to be in someone’s arms.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until just that moment. There was no telling how long they sat there, her tears soaking into his shirt while he held her close.
But the second she found an ounce of composure she felt a whole new emotion: Mortification.
Not only had she just lost it in front of Tripp, she’d lost it on him.
Yup, just when she thought her day couldn’t get any worse. But when she pulled back and looked up into his face, she found something rather unexpected in his expression. There wasn’t an ounce of pity in his gaze—something she’d long ago gotten sick and tired of seeing. No, he was looking at her with compassion and sympathy.
“It’s okay, Beth. Grant is okay. We got him out of there and he’s fine.”
“You got him out of there.”
“Yes, but you got me to help. It was a team effort.” He reached up, running his fingers underneath her eyes.
“I think your definition of ‘team effort’ is a little skewed. What you did, Tripp…I can’t, I can’t thank you enough.”
“What other option was there? Anyone would have gone out there to get him.”
“No.” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t have. There are plenty of people who would’ve walked away. Plenty of people who wouldn’t have taken the risk to save another person.”
“Yeah, well, that would make me a pretty shitty firefighter, now wouldn’t it? ‘You guys get yourself out of the burning building, I’m just going to stand back here and roast a marshmallow.’”
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