EMBER - Part Three (The EMBER Series, #3) (2 page)

"I wasn't feeling well," I mutter under my breath because I know in the scope of excuses, it's a lame one.

She bends down to pull Vane into her arms. "Vanessa didn't say a lot about Dane after we left your place. She doesn't know him as well as you do."

The irony of the statement isn't lost on me. I'm not going to assume that I know Dane better than anyone, including Vanessa. The tangible proof of that isn't just in the fact that up until last night, I didn't have a clear understanding of the depth of his connection to Maisy. It goes well beyond that.

Our relationship grew from a chance meeting in a restaurant when he was rushing away from a promised future while I was trying to find one. We haven't taken the time to discuss our deepest wishes and life goals. Up until yesterday, the thought of Dane being a father was a foreign concept. I certainly had never given it a moment of consideration in terms of what our future together might hold since we haven't even defined whether we're dating each other exclusively. The assumption that we are, is there, but talking about the direction our relationship is headed, hasn't hit my radar yet.

It obviously isn't something Dane thinks about because if it were, I would have known that a baby was in his immediate future.

"Why don't you go over to his place to talk to him?" she asks flippantly. "If I was dating a guy and I had questions about his past, I'd be out on his stoop waiting for him to get home."

I can't do it. I can't confess to my best friend that the man I'm seeing actually doesn't have a home because his pregnant ex-girlfriend is living in his.  "I don't know his schedule this week. I'll stop by the fire station this afternoon."

The smile that floats over her lips is a clear signal that her only focus in this moment is her son. "That sounds like a plan, Bridge."

It's a plan, whether or not it's the right one, doesn't matter at this point. I want answers and the only person who can give those to me is the father of Maisy's baby who just happens to be the man I thought I was falling in love with.

"I
tried to call you twice but you didn't answer."

Dane's voice catches me so off guard that my left shoe lands firmly on the toes of my right one. I hadn't looked up at all as I walked quickly through the crowded streets of Manhattan. After I'd left Zoe's place, I'd tried to call Dane once more as I fidgeted in front of her building, while the doorman kept a watchful eye over me.

There wasn't an answer. I'd hung up just as his voicemail picked up before I'd tucked my phone back into my purse and started the hike from Park Avenue to the fire station Dane worked at. I kept my gaze far enough ahead of me that the possibility of locking eyes with anyone on the street was a non-issue. I didn't want to run into a regular patron of the pub who would pull me into a discussion about where I'd been for the past few months. I didn't have the emotional capacity to listen to another stranger tell me that they recognized me as the girl who had been hit by the police car. I had one focus that only intensified with each step I took and that was talking to Dane.

I couldn't hide the disappointment that swept over my expression when a man dressed in the same type of firefighter gear that Dane was wearing the night of my accident told me that he wasn't there. He tossed the words out in a breathless panic as he boarded the fire truck that was already pulling out into the street. I could only watch as it sped away in its pursuit to stop the destruction that only a fire can cause.

I'd walked back to my place, the fuel beneath each step a stirring mixture of anger and frustration. I didn't bother to look at my smartphone and as I rounded the corner to head up the block towards my building, I'd stopped to buy two apples and a chilled bottle of juice from a vendor who set up his cart in the same spot floors beneath my bedroom window each day.

I hadn't eaten before I'd left for Zoe's and although she offered me an omelet and some toast, I couldn't stomach the taste then. Right now, the fruit and juice is enough to tame the hunger pangs that I can't ignore any longer.

"Bridget," he says my name just as his hands reach out to grab my wrists to steady my balance. "I've been trying to call you for the last hour."

I stare up into his face. His features are exactly as they were the last time I saw him but there's something remarkably different in his stance. His shoulders are tense and pulled forward. His shoe is tapping against the pavement and as his skin touches mine I feel the tremor in his grasp.

"What's wrong, Dane?"

Just as swift as I see relief float over his face, it's gone again. "I know that you tried to call me last night and again early this morning. I couldn't get to my phone. I'm sorry."

"I wanted to talk to you about something," I begin before I look past his shoulder to a delivery truck that has pulled up next to the curb. The jarring string of horns honking a symphony of displeasure at the truck's driver fills the air. "It's really important."

"You want to talk about the fire, don't you?" His eyes dart back to where the truck is now parked. It's blocking a full lane of traffic on the already crowded street.

I want to talk about his son. I want to know if they've chosen a name for him and when Dane thinks his birthday will be. I want to know how he felt when he learned that Maisy was carrying his child and I want to hear him tell me, in his own words, what's going to happen when the baby arrives and what his plan is for every tomorrow after that.

"The fire?" I finally pull my wrists free of his grasp. "What fire?"

His eyes slowly scan my face as if he's searching for some semblance of understanding there. He's a fireman. It only stands to reason that he's talking about a fire he was called out to. I'm guessing it's the fire in Queens that Vanessa mentioned when she'd first arrived at my apartment last night. I assumed when she was hurriedly called back to the hospital, that it was because of that.

"It was bad." His hand darts up to his face to cover his mouth. "There were two kids. Their mom left them alone and..."

The audible gasp that escapes me stops him mid-sentence. I feel a rush of emotions as I remember the woman on the television who had been brought to her knees on the lush green lawn in front of one of the houses that was near the blaze. The wail that came from her had lingered with me and even this morning as I tried to catch a quick glimpse of the day's headlines on the muted television while I watched Zoe feed Vane his breakfast, I'd wondered about that woman and the loss she must have suffered.

"We tried to help them." His shoulders pivot towards me. "They don't know if they'll make it. I stayed at the hospital all night. Ben says it's touch and go."

"I'm sorry...I didn't...I had no idea that happened," I stammer, knowing that throwing a slew of questions at him about Maisy and his son will only add to the overwhelming emotional weight that he's already carrying on his shoulders. I don't want to feel compassion for him right now but I can't help it.

"I wasn't working the fire," he says quickly. "I was at my house and saw the smoke. I ran over there."

I know that the kindhearted thing to do is to ask about the children who were caught in the fire. I feel the tug at my heart as I think about small Vane and what it would do to Zoe, Beck and even myself if he were hurt.  I want to stay in that place emotionally not only because it's the honorable place to be, but also because I despise myself right now for wanting to push his concern for those children aside to ask him why he was at the house he shares with the soon-to-be mother of his child.

"I know those kids, Bridget." 

"You know them?" I whisper the question back, suddenly feeling guilty for not recognizing how completely torn up he is.

He scrubs his hand over his face. It does nothing to settle his expression. "They live a block over from me. They set up a lemonade stand every Saturday afternoon during the summer. I always take them a few dollars, when I'm not working, to buy a glass and talk to them. They're great boys."

I close my eyes against the flood of emotions I feel. My hand darts to my mouth. It's not because I feel a sob approaching. I need to physically stop myself from blurting out something about the little boy that him and Maisy are about to have.

"I don't know what I would do if I had a kid of my own and they got hurt." His voice turns gruff and takes on a raspy tone. "I sat with their mother all night at the hospital. She could barely talk. It's got to be hell to watch your sons suffering like that."

"Being a parent can't be easy." Taking a deep breath, I push all reason and compassion aside and say the one thing that has been there, tugging at me since last night. "You'll know that soon since you're going to be a dad."

W
e stand on the crowded sidewalk with the weight of my words sitting in the air between us. Dane's lips part briefly and I steady myself waiting for him to say something. I want to hear confirmation about the baby. I need to listen as he tells me about why he's kept that hidden from me since we met. That doesn't happen. As a group of pedestrians weave their way between us, Dane motions towards the door that will take us to the refuge of the lobby of my building.

During the elevator ride up to my floor, the scope of the conversation we are about to have is punctuated by the fact that a woman who lives in the same building as I, had called out to us to hold the lift as she raced through the lobby doors a few steps behind us, pushing a stroller where her bright eyed toddler sat. The little girl is happily pulling on two of Dane's fingers during the ride up, her mother apologizing the entire time for making us wait.

I feel Dane's hand on the small of my back just as I turn the key to unlock my apartment door. My first instinct is to pull away, but the gentle warmth of his skin against mine is giving me something I didn't know I needed. It's a reminder of everything that's transpired between us since that first night at the restaurant when he saved me from Larry's overly zealous grasp.

Dropping the items in my hands on a small table that's near the door of my apartment, I pull in a heavy breath. I hear the quiet click of the lock as Dane fastens it behind him.

I pivot on my heel to catch his eyes skimming carefully over my face. I look down, not wanting to give in to the temptation to accuse him of lying to me. By mere definition, the fact that he's about to become a father is something that he willfully chose to keep from me.

That might have made sense the night after his birthday when he came back to my apartment to fuck me. His past, and his future, didn't matter at all to me then. He was a man who I desperately wanted to share my bed with. I wanted to know the pleasure that he was capable of giving to a woman but once we started to share more of our lives, he made a conscious decision to not tell me about the baby. There's no excuse for that. You can't build a relationship on a foundation of lies, especially lies that will impact your life each and every day until you die.

"You're having a son." I get right to the point. "You're going to be a dad."

His gaze slides from my face down my body before his eyes level on mine. "Bridget."

I wait for more but I'm only greeted with the sullen silence that envelopes the space between two people who don't know what to say to one another. I can't stand the tension. There are countless things sitting on the edge of my tongue that I want to say to him. "What are you going to do about it, Dane?"

"Do about it? About my son?" he asks, his voice cracking with emotion. "That's simple."

No, it's not simple. It's a living, breathing human being who is part of Dane and will always be. There's nothing simple or straightforward about that. It's not supposed to be. Everything that comes with being a parent can't be put in a small box with a perfectly tied ribbon on it. Sometimes our choices in life have consequences that reach beyond today, tomorrow or even next year. We have to accept the hand we've been dealt and in Dane's case that includes raising a child with a woman who he doesn't live with anymore. It may not be ideal, but it is real and ignoring it won't make it go away.

"How is it simple?" I fight to control the anger in my tone. "Explain how any of this is simple?"

His large hands dart to his brow. He covers his eyes briefly before he looks over my shoulder and into my apartment. "It's a baby, Bridget. That's not complicated. It just needs love and care."

I smooth my hands over my hair, knowing that it must have taken on some curl from the humid air during my hike around the city earlier. "It just needs love and care? Do you think everything will just fall into place? You can't hide from something like this. You have to think about where the baby is going to live and who is going to have him during the week and who gets custody on the weekend."

"Custody?" His brows shoot up. "What does that mean?"

I don't need to define the word for him. He told me that Maisy's father is an attorney. It couldn't have taken more than a day or two after Dane ended the relationship before the issue of custody was tossed about. He's smarter than to play dumb with me. He's either trying to squirm his way out of our conversation because I've caught him so far off guard or he hasn't thought seriously about his own custody rights.

"Where will the baby live?" I push because I want, and deserve, to know what's waiting for him once Maisy gives birth. Even though I know that I was falling in love with him, I can't be with a man who hides such important parts of his life away from me. Beyond that, I can't fathom loving a man who tries to push his pregnant girlfriend out of his home right before she's about to have his baby.

His mouth thins. "I'll take care of it."

"You'll take care of it?" I seethe as I point my finger in the air towards him. "Time is running out, Dane. You need to start taking care of this now."

The air stills as he struggles to say something. He reaches out to touch me and just as his fingers brush against mine he drops to one knee in one swift, graceful movement.  I don't have time to comprehend anything as I stare down into his tear filled eyes.