Beautiful Sacrifice (33 page)

“You don’t understand,” I snapped.

“No, you’re right. I don’t,” she said. “But that’s because it makes no sense.”

“We might be talking about his child, but it poses the same risks as adoption—risks I’m not emotionally capable of taking. She could come back. She could want joint custody or full custody. She could win, Kirby, and she could take the baby to California. I’m not willing to lose another child.”

She paused. “What do you mean … another child?”

I covered my face.

Phaedra put her hands on my shoulders. “Falyn had a baby just after high school. She gave her daughter up.”

Kirby stared at me for a long time. “I’m so sorry.” Once the shock wore off, her expression twisted into revulsion. “I’m sorry. I really am. But he was willing to forgo a family for you, and you won’t even entertain the idea of a family for him?” she asked. “You think you’re saving him or whatever, but you’re covering your own ass. You’re scared.”

“Kirby!” Phaedra said. “Enough!”

Kirby hopped off the stool, looking for something to clean. She turned up the volume on the small overhead television in the corner. Looking up at it, she crossed her arms.

“Falyn?” Kirby said, watching the screen.

“Leave her be, Kirby,” Chuck said.

“Falyn?” Kirby said again, scrambling for the remote and turning the volume to the maximum level.

The rest of us watched in horror as a female reporter stood in front of tall grass and burning trees not two hundred yards behind her while the words
ALPINE HOTSHOT CREW FEARED MISSING
scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

“That’s correct, Phil. The Estes Park crew who have traveled to the Colorado Springs area to help control this fire have not returned or reported in, and officials have listed them as missing.”

I rushed to the television, standing next to Kirby. In the same moment, everything I swore to forget came back to me—the way his skin felt against mine, the dimple that sunk into his chin, his laugh, the security I felt in his arms, and the sadness in his eyes when I’d walked away from him in the hotel.

“Cassandra, do officials have an idea where the crew is?” the anchorman asked.

“The last reported communication with the Estes Park crew was at six o’clock this evening, right about the time the two main fires converged.”

I grabbed my keys before sprinting out to my car. The moment my seat belt clicked, I twisted the key in the ignition and stomped on the gas.

Less than ten minutes later, Taylor’s hotel came into view. I parked and ran inside, immediately seeing Ellison standing with a crowd of firefighters and hotshot crew members from the entire state. She was watching the large flat screen with her mouth covered.

“Ellie!” I called.

She ran to hug me, nearly knocking me over. She squeezed me tight, sniffling.

“I just heard. Any news?” I asked, trying not to panic.

She released me and shook her head, wiping her nose with a tissue she had tucked in her palm. “Nothing. We arrived just after seven. Tyler drove like a maniac. He’s out there with the crews, looking for them.”

I hugged her. “I know they’re okay.”

“Because they have to be.” She held me at bay, forcing a brave smile. “I heard about the baby. First Maddox grandbaby. Jim’s ecstatic.”

My face fell.

“Oh God. Oh, no. Did you … are you not pregnant anymore?”

I stared at her, utterly confused and horrified. She mirrored my expression.

“You’re right,” she said. “This isn’t the time. Let’s go sit. Trex is getting updates every half an hour from his people.”

“His people?”

Ellison shrugged. “I don’t know. He just said his people.”

We sat together on the couch in the lobby, surrounded by firefighters, hotshots, and various officials. As the night wore on, the crowd thinned.

My eyes felt heavy, and every time I blinked, it seemed more difficult to open them again. The desk clerk brought us coffee and a plate of doughnuts, but neither Ellison nor I touched the food.

Trex came over, sitting in the chair adjacent to our sofa.

“Any word?” Ellison asked.

Trex shook his head, clearly disheartened.

“What about the rescue team?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Trex said. “I’m sorry. My guys only give visual confirmation, and they haven’t seen anyone in an hour. The helos are up with spotlights, but the smoke is making it difficult to see.” He glanced back at the desk clerk and then shook his head. “I’m going to call them in ten minutes. I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything.”

Ellison nodded, and then her attention was drawn to the entrance.

Taylor walked in, his skin caked in dirt and soot. He removed his bright blue hard hat, and I stood, my eyes instantly filling with tears.

I leaned forward, my body half-frozen, half-screaming at me to run to him.

Ellison jumped out of her seat and rushed past me, throwing her arms around him.

It wasn’t Taylor but Tyler. I’d only felt that much devastation one other time in my life—the moment Olive was pulled from my arms.

Matching clean streaks ran down Tyler’s cheeks as he hugged Ellison, shaking his head.

“No,” I whispered. “No!”

Tyler rushed over to me. “Taylor’s crew was cut off when the fires converged. It’s possible that they could have backed themselves into a cave, but … the temperatures are … it doesn’t look good, Falyn. I tried. They dragged me out. I’m sorry.”

He hugged me, and my hands fell limp at my sides.

There were no tears, no pain, no waves of emotion. There was nothing.

And then my knees buckled, and I wailed.

By morning, Ellison was lying on Tyler’s lap, asleep, while he sipped his fourth cup of coffee. His eyes had been glued on the television screen, just like mine.

Fresh crews came downstairs, ready for a second search-and-rescue mission. Tyler’s team had all trudged in and gone upstairs to catch what sleep they could.

Trex stood at the desk with the woman who had brought us coffee all night. His team had turned in two hours before, waiting until daylight before resuming their air search.

I stood, and Tyler’s eyes followed.

“I have to go to work,” I said. “I can’t sit here anymore. I have to stay busy.”

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, like Taylor would when he was upset or nervous. “I’ll let you know the moment I hear something.”

“Are you going back out?” I asked.

“I’m not sure they’ll let me. I might have punched one or two people before they removed me from the area.”

“He’s your brother. They’ll understand.”

Tyler’s eyes glossed over, and his bottom lip trembled. His head fell forward, and Ellison touched his shoulder, whispering words of comfort.

I made my way out to the parking lot, moving in slow motion.

The drive to the Bucksaw was a blur. I had no thoughts. I didn’t cry. Everything was automatic—breathing, braking, turning.

My parking spot was taken, so I parked elsewhere, but by the time I stepped onto the tiles of the dining area, I had forgotten where.

I shuffled across the floor in the same clothes I’d worn the day before, my apron still tied around my waist.

“Dear Jesus,” Phaedra said, rushing over and hooking her arm behind me. She escorted me to the kitchen. “Any word?”

Kirby burst through the swinging doors, covering her mouth when she saw me. Chuck, Hector, and Pete stopped what they were doing and stared.

“Nothing. They forced Tyler to … they called off the search just after midnight. They headed out again this morning.”

“Falyn,” Kirby said, “have you slept?”

I shook my head.

“All right. Kirby, there’s a bottle of pills in my bag, point five milligrams. Bring it upstairs. C’mon, baby girl, you’ve got to sleep.”

I slinked out of Phaedra’s grip. “I can’t. I have to work. I have to stay busy.”

Chuck shook his head. “Honey, you’re in no state to wait tables.”

“Then Kirby and I can trade for the day.” I pleaded with Kirby with my eyes.

Kirby waited for Phaedra’s approval.

“Falyn—” Phaedra began.

“Please!” I screamed, closing my eyes. “Please. Just let me work. I can’t go upstairs and lie in that bed alone, knowing he’s out there somewhere.”

Chuck nodded to his wife, and then she dipped her head.

“All right. Kirby, you’re on server duty. I’ll help.”

Kirby pushed through the double doors, going straight over to the tables. I tended to the hostess station, bussing tables and cleaning the floor between customers.

A family came in—a father with tattoo sleeves on both arms, the mother with no tattoos, and two girls and a boy, all three kids under six. The youngest, maybe six months, was snuggled against his mother in a Boba Wrap as he slept, and I choked back the unexpected emotions that seeing him induced.

I seated them at the back table where Taylor had been seated for the last two months and handed them menus. “Kirby will be your server this morning. Enjoy.”

I froze when I recognized the man standing by the hostess station as Taylor. Covered in thick mud, he was still wearing all his gear, including his pack and hard hat. The creases next to his eyes were the only skin on his face not covered with soot.

I covered my mouth, stifling a sob.

He took a step, removing his hat. “They said you waited all night at the hotel.”

I couldn’t respond. I knew if I opened my mouth, all I would be able to do was bawl.

“Is it true?” he asked, his eyes glossing over. He fidgeted with his helmet.

Everyone in the room was staring at the filthy man who reeked of campfire, and then they all looked at me.

As soon as I nodded, my legs gave way, and I fell to my knees, my hand still cupped over my trembling lips.

Taylor rushed to the floor, falling onto his knees, too.

He touched my cheeks, and I hugged him, pulling him to me, grasping at his clothes like he might be taken away from me at any moment. I let the sob break free, my cries filling the café.

He held me as long as I needed, allowing me to hug him as tightly as I wanted. His coat and pack were hard to navigate around, but I didn’t pay attention to that. I just grabbed whatever my hands landed on and pulled him against me.

“Baby,” he whispered, looking down at me. He wiped my face, probably smudged from the layers of ash on his skin and clothes. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

“Does Tyler know?”

“Yeah. He’s the one who told me you were at the hotel. Who knew he would be such a big fucking baby when it came to me?” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Where have you been?” I asked, shivering uncontrollably.

“We holed up. Let it run over us. Used our fire shelters. Finally crawled out this morning.”

I hugged him again and then pressed my mouth on his, not caring that his skin was black with thick soot. He wrapped his arms around me, and everyone in the Bucksaw let out a collective sigh of relief and sentiment.

When I finally let him go, his eyes sparked. “Christ, woman. If I’d known I’d have to have a near-death experience to get your attention, I would have jumped into a fire months ago.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, shaking my head, tears blurring my vision. “Where are Dalton and Zeke? Are they okay?”

Taylor smiled, his teeth gleaming white against his dark face. “Everyone made it out. They’re back at the hotel. I came straight over when Ellie told me you’d waited up with them.”

Chuck and Phaedra approached, both relieved and happy to see Taylor.

“Take him upstairs, Falyn. Get him cleaned up, so we can make him some breakfast. I’m sure he’s half-starved,” Phaedra said.

Taylor stood, bringing me with him. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulling me toward the stairs.

I followed him, still in shock.

When we stepped inside the loft, I closed the door behind me, leaning my back against it. It didn’t seem real. All night, I’d thought he was dead, mulling over the idea of truly losing him forever. Now, he was standing a few feet from me, and although the circumstances hadn’t changed, everything was different.

“Can you hand me a trash bag? A big one,” Taylor said, careful to stand on the tiles in the entrance.

I went to the cabinet under the sink and pulled a large black trash bag from its cardboard box. I shook it out before handing it to him.

Taylor dropped his pack into the sack, and it crashed to the floor. He peeled off his yellow jacket, and then he bent over at the waist to unfasten his boots before pulling them off. Each time he removed a piece of his protective clothing, he’d put it inside the bag.

When he was done, he held the bag closed at the top. “Don’t want your place smelling like smoke.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care.”

He grinned. “You will. It doesn’t go away for a while. And the black is hard to get out of the carpet. Trust me.” Down to his boxer briefs, he tied up the sack and set it outside the door in the hall. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said.

I chuckled. Now that he was undressed, his skin was only dirty from the neck up.

He padded into the bathroom, and I heard the shower come on. I covered my mouth, stifling an unexpected sob. He was okay. He was alive and in my bathroom. I thought about what Kirby had said—about the sacrifices he was willing to make and how atrocious I was behaving when it was time for me to take a risk.