Blaze (The Firefighters of Darling Bay Book 1) (16 page)

“I talked to Lexie.” 

“Lexie wasn’t on duty.” 

“She went in to dispatch that night.” 

“She wasn’t on scene. She doesn’t know a thing.” 

“She knows you did your best.” 

He grimaced. “That’s what everyone always says to losers.” 

“Tox—” 

“No, I’m right about this. Everyone is being so
nice
. I wish they didn’t feel like they had to be. Just for once, it would be a relief if someone called me on my bull.” 

“Really? You want me to ask how on earth you could let a child die from a fire you didn’t start, weren’t responsible for?” 

Even her words hurt. “Yeah. How could I do that?” 

“
Did
you do the best you could?” 

“I’m pretty sure I did. It was a hazmat situation. We shouldn’t have even gone inside, once we knew it was a lab. We weren’t suited up, we didn’t have the right respirators. But we did go in.” 

“Because you knew about the people who were trapped.” 

“And it wasn’t enough.” 

“For the man, it was.” 

Tox bit back a curse. “He has to live his life without his daughter.”

“But you guys saved
his
life.” 

“Great. So he’ll go to jail for the lab. He could have killed dozens. Do you have any idea how volatile those chemicals are? The solvents alone put every responder in danger of contamination. We saved a criminal.” 

“How about last week, when you saved that baby in front of the fire station?”

He shook his head and pushed away the plate. “Totally different situation. That baby would have been fine no matter what I did. He was just postictal.” 

“All kids turn blue like that?”

“Yeah, after a seizure, they do.” 

“So nothing you did helped?” 

“Probably not.” 

She kept prodding, blast her. “So you’re saying you don’t really help anyone at all in your job.” 

“Not usually.” It was
true
. What they did—pick-up and put-backs, lift assists, rides to the hospital—unless they were hooked up to the shock box or the autopulse, they probably weren’t helping that much. And in that case, those were machines doing the job of CPR now, not even the firefighters themselves most times. 

“So whatever was going to happen to the little girl in the fire, you couldn’t really help that, either? And from what you’re saying, no one else could, either.” 

Tox didn’t like where this was going. “I fell, did they tell you that? I went the wrong direction and then I fell, and took her with me. If I hadn’t fallen the wrong way, pushing any good air she had left in her body right out her, if I hadn’t made her inhale the superheated toxic fumes around us, she might have lived.” 

“That sounds like a terrible accident on top of a tragedy.” 

He exhaled heavily. Didn’t she get it? “It’s what I did that counts, not what I intended to do. That’s all. I failed.” 

“That’s not fair.” She shook her head. “What you intend to do counts a lot.” 

Tox waved his hand around the kitchen. “Is that kind of like what you’ve done here?” 

“What?” 

“You intended to fix my place up? So what, so you could move in or something?” 

Grace gasped. “What?” 

“You come in and make me food. Fatten me up. Trying to make me healthy.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “When was the last good meal you ate?”

“It’s none of your business, actually.” 

“It is.” Her voice was softer now. “Besides, I added chips. Those aren’t healthy.” 

“So I shouldn’t have them in my house?” 

“No, I’m not saying that, Tox.” She closed her eyes as if trying to find something inside herself. “But I do believe that people should help each other.” 

“But you’re not helping. That’s your problem. You think you know better than anyone else. And you know what that translates into?” 

“What?” She barely met his eyes. 

“You come off as a know-it-all. Bossy as a new fire captain. You realize since you’ve known me you’ve advised me to change my diet, my form of exercise, and my house? That’s not okay.” 

“I haven’t—” but she broke off. It was true, and it was hitting her that he was right, he could see it on her face. Her expression crumpled.

He felt guilty, but whatever. Tox always felt guilty nowadays. “You even did my dishes. Who asked you to do that?” 

“No one,” she said defensively. “I was just trying to help. Just like I do with my sister, and now she won’t talk to me, either. But I’m only ever trying to help.”

“Who asked you to help, Grace?” 

She picked up the red salt shaker and put it back down with a crack. “Who asked
you
to save the world?” 

“No.” Tox wouldn’t let her turn this around on him. He was in the right here. “You don’t get to go there.” 

“I don’t? You have all this guilt about losing the girl, right?” 

“Yeah. I do.” With all the reason in the world.

“If Hank had lost her, would you be mad at him?” 

It was a stupid thing to say. “You don’t get it.” 

“I don’t? I think that if it had been anyone else, you would forgive them for being human. But you can’t do that for yourself.” 

Tox thumped his open hand on the table, making both it and Grace jump. “There you go again trying to fix me!” 

“So?” She didn’t deny it, just kept looking at him with those big eyes. 

“So you don’t get to just fix whatever you want. That’s probably why your sister’s so mad at you. You and this God complex you have.” 

She gaped at him even more than she had been. “You’re accusing me of having a God complex when you’re the one who thinks you can save everyone from their fate?” 

“Fate? You think that’s why that girl was put on this earth? To die painfully in a fire?” 

Grace’s cheeks paled. “Was she in pain?” 

Probably
. But she didn’t need to know that. “No,” he lied. “She wasn’t. But Grace, we have the same problem. We’re both delusional.” For one brief second, he wished he could take it back, to wipe that shocked and hurt look off her face, but it was too late. 

She stood and brushed off the front of her shirt where it had gotten damp, probably while she was doing his dishes. “I guess I got this—us—wrong, then.” 

He wished she hadn’t. He wished so hard she hadn’t gotten a single thing wrong. But she had. “You can’t fix me, Grace. You can’t fix anyone, no matter how many needles you stick in them, no matter what tea you make them drink. Just back off. Of everyone.” 

Grace’s mouth opened and then closed. Her eyes had lost that excited light, the light that came so naturally to her. He’d put that out. This was on him. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. 

“Take the dog with you.” 

“No!” She pressed her lips together for a moment, and her chin quivered. “You need her. She needs you.” 

“No one needs me. And I’m going to keep it that way.” It was the worst thing he could think of to say. The one thing that would drive her out of his house. For good. He had to let her go now before he broke her even worse. It was too late for him. His body had betrayed him and even if he managed to fix his neck and back, now he had to pass a psych test before he could go back to work on the line. That would never happen. He knew he was too broken. 

Tox was as good as his name, not good for anyone. Grace needed a real man. 

A good man.

She left. Every part of his body ached. 

And damn her, she left the dog, too. He should have been able to stop himself from digging his fingers into Methyl’s soft fur, but he couldn’t. 

Not that he would cry. Tox didn’t cry. 

But if he did, the dog would never tell.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Grace wanted to be alone, but she didn’t want to be at home. And she certainly didn’t want to be at the clinic. 

The beach, then. It was the best place to be alone because there was nothing to
do
at the beach. If she’d been tasked with counting the grains of sand, she couldn’t have done it. If someone had told her to stop the tide rushing in and out, she would have to say no. Grace had no control over the waves, over the movement of the clouds, or fog, or birds. The tiny sideways rushing crabs ignored her entirely. It was the most reassuring place in the world.

Grace made her way over the low dunes to where the shore flattened. She found a large piece of driftwood to sit on. She kept her eyes on the horizon, right where the sea met the sky, and let handfuls of sand play through her fingers. 

She’d lost everything now. Last year she would have said her sister and her acupuncture practice were the two most important things in the world to her, and that was still true. But without her sister, without
Tox
next to her, could anything be rich? Be good? 

How had it come to this so quickly? To…love? 

Staring at the horizon, Grace knew the word was right.
Love
. She loved him. She hadn’t planned it and certainly hadn’t wanted it, but Tox was the reason her heart sang, he was why her blood pounded. She wanted to watch him come home safely from a shift at work. She wanted him in her arms at night. All night long. 

He wasn’t perfect. Nothing said he was right for her. There were plenty of ways Tox could improve. 

Sitting there on the beach, Grace couldn’t think of one single way he could be better, though. 

And Samantha…her sister was everything. She was a wonderful, smart, kind woman who’d been through hardships and had bounced up from each one. Why couldn’t Grace get over trying to fix her? 

The problem was that Grace
did
know best sometimes. She did know when Samantha was about to lose it, to freak out over the wrong man, to chase after something that wasn’t worthwhile. She knew when Samantha was about to fail. 

In front of the waves, she saw her sister’s face almost as clearly as if she’d been there. “
It’s my life. Not yours. Mine.
” 

How, then, was she supposed to stop Sam from making mistakes? 

A little boy dressed in blue overalls carrying a yellow balloon ran in front of Grace, cutting his way through the sand, his small feet kicking up sand behind him. It wasn’t, of course, the boy from the pier who had almost lost his balloon, the one Tox had saved for him, but the boy reminded Grace of that moment. 

The boy’s mother, a young blond, chased after him, but she was still a good city block behind. There was no harm the child could get into here unless he ran into the waves, and he was well away from the waterline. The mother looked relaxed. The child looked happy. 

All Grace could see was the balloon. It wasn’t tied around his wrist—he was just holding it. And he wasn’t holding it tightly enough. 

She launched herself to her feet and jumped forward. The boy’s fingers loosened. “No!” Grace shouted. “Hold it! Tighter, hold it tighter!” 

But even though Grace lunged forward as fast as she could, she couldn’t grab the string in time. The balloon floated up, so brightly yellow against the clear blue sky. 

The child burst into noisy tears, and the mother caught up. “What are you
doing
?”

“No.” Grace held out her hands. “Don’t shout at him, he didn’t mean to.” 

“I know he didn’t. I’m shouting at
you
, not him. Why did you scare him like that?” 

“I was trying to help.” 

The woman picked the boy up and held him tight, brushing away the tears that came fast down his face. “Well, next time think about how you
do
that. It’s okay to help. It’s not okay to scare my son.” 

All three of them looked up. The balloon was already tiny, bobbing in the wind high above. 

The woman turned with her son and walked away without another word. 

“I’m sorry.” Grace’s voice was a whisper. She backed up and sat on the piece of driftwood with a thump. She listened to the boy wail in his mother’s arms all the way down the beach. 

Maybe Tox had a point.

She took out her cell phone and sent one message to Samantha.
You’re right. You’re just right the way you are. If you need help, please ask me. Otherwise, I’m just here for you.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

A week later, Grace paced in her driveway. It wouldn’t work. 

This couldn’t possibly work. 

Grace hoped it could make a difference, though. A start. Instead of the tin
nicho
she had on her wall where she held her hopes, this was another metal box, holding new hope. A red wagon, full of ice cream. 

Samantha whistled when she saw it. “That’s the most ice cream I’ve ever seen outside Skip’s.” 

Grace nodded, taking a visual inventory, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Chocolate, strawberry, pecan praline, caramel swirl, vanilla, double chocolate fudge brownie, to start. That was the top layer of pints. Next to the ice cream were three jars of hot fudge, two of caramel and one butterscotch. She had four cans of whipped cream, and a large jar of maraschino cherries. She had paper bowls and plastic spoons. 

Grace looked at her sister. “You should have seen Martha’s face when I put all this on the check stand at the market. She thought I was kidding.” 

“What did you say? That you were having a party?” 

“No, I just told her the truth, that it was crow, and that I was going to eat plenty of it.” 

“Come on, Grace. I know you didn’t do or say anything that warrants this big an apology. What did you do? Punch the guy?” 

“Not quite.” 

“Did you tell lies about his mother?” 

Grace shook her head and grabbed the handle. “No. I tried to fix him.”

“Oh,” said Samantha simply. “I’m not sure you have enough ice cream.” 

“Want to come? I’m walking to his house.” 

“Are you kidding? Yeah. I’m going to hang out with Justin soon, but I can put him off.” 

Grace’s heart stalled. “The guy who was driving that night you crashed?” 

“Yes.” Her sister’s voice held a delicate challenge, one that wobbled. Samantha was scared, too.