Let Me Burn

Home > Other > Let Me Burn > Page 1
Let Me Burn Page 1

by Elks, Carrie




  Let Me Burn

  Carrie Elks

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Also by Carrie Elks

  Acknowledgments

  Let Me Burn by Carrie Elks

  Copyright © 2018 Carrie Elks

  All rights reserved

  170219

  Edited by Rose David

  Proofread by Proofreading by Mich

  Cover Designed by Najla Qamber Designs (www. najlaqamberdesigns. com)

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are fictitious products of the author’s imagination.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  1

  “You’re taking two months off. That’s not a suggestion, that’s an order, Lieutenant.”

  “Two months?” Lucas Russell frowned as he looked up at Chief Simons, checking to see if there was any hint of humor on her face. There was nothing. Everything about her was serious. From the way her mouth was set in a thin line, to her perfectly straight spine as she sat on the chair opposite his. “I don’t need that long.”

  Truth was, he didn’t want to take any time off at all. He never did. The White City Fire Department was pretty much his life, and he liked it that way.

  Still holding his gaze, Chief Simons leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers in front of her. “When was the last time you took any paid leave?” she asked him.

  Lucas paused in an attempt to remember. “I took a week off last year. To visit my sister in New York.”

  “I checked your file and that week off was over eighteen months ago. Since then you’ve taken no leave and you’ve not had a single day off due to sickness. No wonder you’re burned out.” She pressed her lips together.

  Her reply felt like a slap in the face. Burned out? Is that what she thought? He reached his hand up and ran his palm over his closely cropped black hair, trying to think of an appropriate response.

  She must have seen the expression on his face, because her own features softened, along with the tone of her voice. “Lucas,” she began gently, leaning forward across the table, “I know how dedicated you are to this job, and that’s very admirable. You’re the one we can always rely on. The first man I think of when a job needs doing. But you’re no good to me if you’re exhausted. You need a break – a long one – to recharge your batteries. You’ve stored up enough paid leave over the years to cover it.”

  Lucas looked around the room. He’d been working out of White City Station for nearly ten years. It was one of the biggest stations in the state – with two trucks and two engines, as well as a paramedic vehicle. It was here that the battalion chief worked, too. As the commander responsible for several stations – and multiple fire companies – Chief Simons was Lucas’ bosses’ boss. She was one of the few female battalion chiefs on the West Coast, and she’d earned every bit of respect the firefighters gave her. She’d worked her way up the ranks, from probationer through to Captain, showing true grit as a Lieutenant in charge of fighting wildfires in Southern California. When the position of Battalion chief was empty, after the previous holder retired, she’d been a popular choice to fill the role.

  “I’m not exhausted. I’m fine,” Lucas protested, though his words held little conviction. But the thought of taking enforced leave – of not doing the job he loved – made him feel so uncomfortable he had to shift in his seat.

  “You froze, Lieutenant.” Chief Simons’ voice was back to being firm. “That doesn’t seem fine to me. You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks. You need time to adjust, to grieve, I need you fit and well, and right now you’re not.”

  It felt as though all the muscles in his chest were tightening in on him, not letting the air get to his lungs. The thought of taking enforced leave – of sitting in his nondescript apartment in White City – sent a shiver down his spine. He never spent any time there – not waking time, anyway. What was the point when there was so much to do here at the Station, and out at emergency calls?

  And yeah, he had frozen up – but anybody would’ve if they’d been through what he had. It didn’t mean anything.

  “I’m not going to freeze again,” he told her. “Even the psychologist said that.”

  Chief Simons pulled a sheet of paper out from the brown file in front of her. “He also suggested you take some time off, and I agree. This isn’t up for discussion.”

  Lucas knew that, or at least his head did. He’d known it from her first words, but it was taking some time for that message to reach his heart. Because if he wasn’t fighting fires, what was he going to do?

  “If I take the two months off, will my job still be open when I come back?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

  “Of course. I’ve asked Marcus to step up for those two months, but after that the job is yours.” She tipped her head to the side, surveying his response. “I don’t want to lose you, Lieutenant. You’re the best man I’ve got. But unless you take some time to rest, I fear we’ll lose you anyway.” She gave him the smallest of smiles. “The captain tells me you have some cottage in Angel Sands you’ve been meaning to work on for years.”

  Lucas swallowed, his mouth dryer than ever. “Yeah, my grandparents’ cottage. My grandma left it to me and my sister when she died a few years ago.” And it had been standing empty ever since.

  “Maybe you should go home and work on renovating it.”

  Home? It took him a moment to realize she was talking about Angel Sands. The small town where he’d been brought up, the same one where his parents still lived. It was only thirty miles away from the built-up metropolis of White City, but a thousand miles away in outlook. Where White City was go-getting and busy, Angel Sands was laid back and easy. It had been the perfect town to grow up in, but to live in forever?

  No way. It didn’t even have a full-time fire department.

  “I spoke with Captain Lakin at the fire house there,” Chief Simons said, as though she was reading his mind. “They can always use another volunteer. He said he’d love to have you on board for the next couple of months.”

  The two stations couldn’t have been any different. Being so close to the city, and two major highways, the firefighters at White City Station were called out to a lot of serious incidents. Plus there were the wildfires that plagued the forest beyond – the ones that ate up acres of dry grass and trees in minutes.

  Whereas the volunteer force at Angel Sands were rarely called out, and when they were, the situation was almost always a minor one. Cats to pull down from trees, small house fires, and the rare occasion when they helped the coastguard due to an incident on the ocean. How did he know? Because he�
�d volunteered there himself when he was at college. It had been one of the reasons he’d applied to join the White City fire department as soon as he’d graduated.

  “You want me to volunteer?” Lucas asked, confused. “But I thought you said I needed a break.”

  This time Chief Simons’ smile was bigger. “You do. But I know you pretty well, and I know your break will be much easier if it’s structured. I don’t see any problem with you volunteering, and I cleared it with the psych. As I said, Mitch Lakin would love to have you on board.” She raised her eyebrows. “If nothing else, he could use some help with his paperwork.”

  Lucas couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Captain Lakin’s aversion to paperwork was legendary. According to rumors, there were reports from the last millennium still piled up in his office waiting to be filed. “It sounds like tougher work than staying here,” he said, humor finally softening his voice.

  Chief Simons chuckled. “It probably is. But if anybody can help Mitch, I know you can.” She shrugged. “Anyway, the most important thing is that you switch off from White City. Spend some time with your family, with your friends. Work on your cottage. And when you come back here you’ll be ready to face anything, which is exactly how I need you.”

  The Fire Department wasn’t so different to any other public service, be it the military or the police force. It worked because people observed the hierarchy and gave their superiors the respect they deserved, anything else would be anarchy. As the chief had said from the outset, this wasn’t a request, it was an order. Whether Lucas liked it or not, he was going to have to accept it.

  2

  “I swear this thing hates me. Light, dammit!”

  Ember Kennedy looked up from the birthday decorations she’d been fixing on the fence, surprised at her mom’s outburst. In the twenty-eight years Ember had lived on this earth, she couldn’t remember Laura Kennedy ever swearing.

  She watched as her mom jabbed at the grill’s ignition switch, her index finger digging in and out as though she was poking somebody in an argument.

  Ember laid down her staple gun and walked across the freshly cut grass to where her mom and the grill were engaged in battle. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she took a deep breath.

  It was time to tread carefully, she knew a woman on the edge when she saw one. She’d been one, after all.

  Still was sometimes.

  “You need some help, Mom?” she asked gently.

  Her mom’s face was set in a grim expression. “I told your father we needed to buy a new grill.” She shook her head, as if to ward off the tears that seemed to flow whenever she spoke of her late husband. “He refused to get one, that stupid old fool.”

  She sniffed the emotion back, and took a deep breath, before jabbing at the small orange switch again. Ember took her hand, carefully folding it in her own. “It’s probably the propane supply. I’ll take a look at the connection.”

  Laura huffed, but took a step backward to let Ember kneel down beneath the six-burner grill. Ember tapped the silver cap that connected the gas bottle to the hose, but the join was pretty solid, there was no leak that she could see.

  “When did you last replace the propane?” Ember asked, frowning at the big tan cylinder in front of her.

  “I don’t know.” Her mom’s voice was quiet, as though she was expecting an attack. “The propane was always your father’s job. I don’t even know how to check it or disconnect and reconnect it.” Her words ended in a high note, one that sounded perilously close to tears. Swallowing down her own emotions, Ember stood and put her arms around her mom.

  “You can’t cry,” she whispered against her cheek. “It’s your birthday. That’s the law.”

  “I don’t know why we’re having this stupid party anyway.” Laura sniffed, finally relaxing into Ember’s embrace. “It’s all too fresh, too upsetting. Maybe we should cancel.”

  “Of course we shouldn’t cancel,” Ember said, her voice firm. Releasing their embrace, she took a step back, giving her mom a small smile. “We promised Dad, remember? We’d celebrate and have parties the way we always have, because that’s what he wanted.”

  “I didn’t know it would be so hard.” Laura shook her head. “It’s the little things, like not being able to light the grill, or being able to find the damn tools. He should have left me a manual or something. How to live life without him.” Her voice broke, and the tears finally started falling. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  Ember swallowed down her own tears. They didn’t both need to be blubbing out here. She’d lost her father, but her mom had lost her soul mate.

  Okay, so Ember had lost more than her father, but it wasn’t time to think about that. She rubbed her mom’s arms, giving her a watery smile as the older lady finally got her sobs under control. Behind her, Ember’s sister walked out of the double glass doors that had been pulled open to let in the warm air. Taking one look at Ember and their mom, she widened her eyes in question.

  “Is everything okay?” Chelsea asked.

  “Everything’s fine. I’m just going to head out to the store and pick up a new propane tank. This one seems to be acting up.”

  “It’s nearly three,” Chelsea pointed out. “Everybody will be here soon.”

  “All the more reason for me to go out now.” Ember grabbed her purse from the deck, and pulled her car keys out. “Do we have everything else we need?” she asked her mom.

  “I think so.” Laura smiled, and in spite of her tear-stained cheeks, it lit up her face. “Unless you find a good man to bring back with you.” She gave a little laugh at the end to show she was only kidding, but her words still bit into the edges of Ember’s heart.

  “With my track record?” Ember replied, keeping her voice light. “I don’t think so.”

  “One fiancé doesn’t make a track record,” Chelsea pointed out.

  “Ex-fiancé,” her mother said, unknowingly pushing the knife even deeper.

  “Yeah, well unless she has a trail of ex-fiancés flipping and flopping in her wake, I think we can safely say it’s not a track record.”

  “Either way, I think I’ll be coming back with only the propane.” Ember flashed her sister a smile. Chelsea might have been six years younger, but during the time Ember’s little sister had been away – first at college, and now studying for her first year post-grad – she’d grown up into a beautiful young woman. And more than that, they’d become friends. Those years that had seemed like a chasm when Ember was a teen and Chelsea was still building sandcastles, were so unimportant now.

  Switching on the engine in her car, Ember could already feel herself relaxing. The stereo kicked on, Sara Bareilles’ soulful voice feeling like a warm embrace. Backing her car out of the driveway, she maneuvered onto the main road, steering her car in the direction of the small main street that served both as Angel Sands’ business district, and its tourist center.

  It had been four months since her father had died, but it still felt so raw. Every time they had to face an important day without him – like her mom’s birthday – it felt as though the wound he’d left within them had been torn open once again, reminding them how starkly they felt his absence.

  It had been a terrible few months. First with his pancreatic cancer diagnosis, which came only a few days after Thanksgiving, followed by the prognosis the oncologist had given them, which hadn’t been good at all. It felt as though they’d been mourning him before he’d even passed on – both too long, and yet not enough time at all.

  And then there was Will. But she didn’t want to go there. Not today, maybe not any day. In the story of her life, losing him should have come a very far second to her father’s death, and yet it still stung like hell.

  No, she wasn’t going to think about Will. Instead she leaned forward and turned up the stereo, letting Sara’s sweet voice surround her. The warm throb of the bass filled her ears, and pushed the dark thoughts out of her mind.

  It only took ten
minutes to get to Main Street. Angel Sands was small that way. Growing up, she’d taken this place for granted, assumed that everybody went to the beach after school, and that it didn’t matter where in the world you lived, the air always smelled of salt and ozone.

  But when she went away to college in the north of the state that she realized that wasn’t true at all. She’d found herself missing this place, aching to fall asleep to the sound of the surf, needing to feel the constant warmth of the sun as she kicked her way through the waves. It felt natural to return to her home town after graduation and taken up a teaching position at the local elementary. Natural, too, that she’d settled down with a local man – Will Martin – and accepted his proposal.

  And look how that turned out.

  She steered her car into the parking lot behind Megassey’s. It wasn’t just an old-fashioned hardware store. It was also a treasure trove of memorabilia and odds and ends. Tourists came flocking to look at the old photographs affixed to the walls, and rummage through the vintage souvenirs that Frank Megassey placed proudly on the shelves. In the height of summer, he’d open a soda fountain, and give the Heavenly Ice Cream parlor across the street a run for its money. Like the rest of the stores that lined the pretty main street – complete with painted boards and floral displays – Megassey’s was loved by locals and tourists alike.

  Pulling the car door open, Ember stepped out onto the parking lot. The warm air immediately embraced her, heating up her exposed skin, cool after ten minutes in the air-conditioned car. She was wearing her usual summer uniform of shorts and a shirt, this one knotted at her waist to keep it from trailing down past her thighs. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing her neck. Like everybody around here, she dressed casually. Why bother to make a fuss when you were either going to swim in the ocean or ride a bike in the hills?

 

‹ Prev