Feeding the Fire (22 page)

She started the car and considered whether she should drive straight to his loft and spill her guts. She could do it . . . right now . . . but she was a coward. Too much had happened too quickly. She needed to think. Strategize. Instead, she made her way to Daisy Drive and went home. Maybe after a glass of wine, the path forward would be clearer.

Or she might feel braver.

Chapter Twenty

Restless wasn’t the word for what Grant was feeling. It didn’t matter that it was after ten at night, he couldn’t still his brain. Even Chopper couldn’t relax tonight. The hound dog kept pacing through the loft, whimpering at the door, then circling back through the room. The poor dog was probably feeding off Grant’s anxious, confused energy.

He’d left the garage today feeling like a man with a plan. He was determined to win Pepper back, but by the time he got home, he wasn’t quite as certain how to do it. Should he march over to her house and demand that she see him? Send her flowers with an apology? He honestly didn’t know how to win a woman back. He’d never tried.

What he did know was that he felt like crap. Not just because of what he’d put Pepper through, but because of the truth she was forced to hide from him. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her brother—
his
brother—Logan’s situation. The existence of another brother or sister they never knew about should’ve been little surprise to Grant, of all people. He knew what his father was capable of.

And yet, the reality of those repercussions was harder to face. He had it easy. How difficult had life been for Logan compared to the rest of the Chamberlain children? Grant had no doubt that Mr. Anthony was a good father to his adopted son, but under different circumstances, Logan could be working in the family firm after going to a prestigious law school instead of trying to scrape up customers and compete with the mighty Chamberlain machine their father operated.

It made Grant despise his father even more. He’d known about Logan from the beginning. He’d deliberately turned his back on his own child. All the years of animosity between their families, the loss of his relationship with Pepper, even Blake’s broken nose was caused by his father’s selfish actions.

None of those thoughts were helpful with the mood he was in. He was just stewing in the negativity with no outlet for it while he was cooped up in his apartment. Grant got up and picked up his police scanner from the bookshelf. He’d listened to it on and off since he’d been out of work to keep tabs on what was happening. Perhaps listening in on his coworkers’ antics would be a happy distraction tonight. He turned it on and sat down on the couch. Chopper jumped up beside him to lay down and rested his head on Grant’s lap.

At first, there wasn’t much going on. Typical Rosewood. Grant could hear his brother talking to dispatch as he cruised the streets looking for mostly nonexistent crime. Once Jeanette Kincaid admitted to being the peeper, the excitement in town immediately died down. Now all the sheriff’s men could go back to escorting funeral processions and helping ladies change flat tires on the highway. He kept listening, but nothing was going on at the fire station to distract him, either.

Sometimes Grant missed working in Birmingham. He’d spent two years training to be a firefighter and working in the sprawling southern city. There were days that were crazy and exhausting and dangerous, but he was certainly never bored. He never made himself crazy with silence and his own thoughts. Then again, it wasn’t home. Home was Rosewood, a sleepy southern town that didn’t have crazy crime rates or devastating fires all the time. That was a good thing. At least until you realized that whenever something did happen, it would likely affect someone that you knew. Like Estelle.

A loud chirp sounded on the radio, followed by the sound of the 911 dispatcher’s voice. “Attention, Fire and Rescue station nine. We’ve got a report of a house fire in downtown Rosewood on Daisy Drive. Neighbors called reporting smoke and visible flames at 302 Daisy Drive across from Whittaker’s restaurant. Please respond.”

Grant jerked to attention. Pepper lived right near the restaurant. What was her address? He didn’t remember for certain, but the little older houses were very close together. If one caught fire the others could easily do the same. He rushed over to his window to see if he could see anything. It was hard in the dark, but he could see the glow of flames against the trees and the neon sign of Whittaker’s nearby. If it wasn’t her house, it was one to either side.

Travis and Mack were working the night shift. The radio came alive with various voices responding and talking back and forth about details as the Fire and Rescue squad loaded up and rushed to the scene. Someone, it sounded like Mack, asked if the house was occupied and how many people could potentially be inside. The dispatcher replied that the reporter was unsure, but the resident’s car was at the home. Only one known resident at the address. That meant Pepper or Phyllis.

Grant knew he wasn’t supposed to be working, but he couldn’t just sit at home, especially knowing it might be Pepper’s house. All the firefighters in Rosewood were on call for a major fire. He could hear the dispatch calling in Paul and Kyle to report to the scene, then radioing a nearby fire station for backup. He had to go.

He leapt to his feet, grabbing his keys, and raced for the door. Chopper barely had time to cock his head curiously before Grant was out of the loft and rushing for his truck. He was only a few blocks away. He could smell the smoke in the air as he got into his truck. His tires left rubber behind as he peeled out of the parking lot and down Second Avenue toward Pepper’s house.

He couldn’t get close. The ladder truck and the rescue truck were there when he arrived, along with the ambulance and a squad car. The street was filled with vehicles and flashing lights, so Grant parked at the restaurant across the street. Rushing from his truck, Pepper’s house finally came into view. He’d been silently praying it wasn’t hers, but he was disappointed. Pepper’s tiny house was lit up like a torch. The whole back of the house was burning with the flames reaching for the old oak trees that surrounded it. He dashed across the street, pushing aside onlookers and searching for Pepper.

Everyone was still unloading equipment and suiting up when he arrived. He rushed through, jumping over hoses and trying to ignore the sickening crackle of the fire eating away at Pepper’s dream house. The ambulance crew was standing by, they didn’t have any patients. Did that mean Pepper was still inside?

“Pepper!” he screamed, but he didn’t see her anywhere. Her little SUV was in the driveway. She was home. Where was she?

“Grant? What the hell are you doing here?” Mack rushed over, trying to keep him back. “You’re still out on medical leave.”

He couldn’t care less about that. Mack should know that he would show up for a big fire, especially when it was Pepper in danger. “Where is she, Mack? Is she still in the house?”

“We don’t know, we just got here. We think she’s inside. Travis is suiting up to go in.”

Grant looked over to where Travis was quickly pulling on the fire-resistant jacket. Every second that ticked by was one too many if she was in the house. He broke away from Mack’s hold, rushing across the yard and leaping up the front stairs. He could hear voices shouting at him from the street, but he didn’t care. He felt the handle and it was still cool. Leaning back on one foot, he kicked in the door with his heavy boot. It splintered and flew open, the thick clouds of black smoke billowing toward him.

He covered his mouth and nose with his shirt and crouched down where the air was clearer. He moved quickly through the doorway into the living room. The fire hadn’t reached that space yet. It was the bedrooms in the back that were burning. Was Pepper asleep in bed when it started?

That’s when he heard a woman cough. The sound wasn’t coming from the hallway but from the couch. Up ahead, he saw a bare foot dangling from the sofa. Thank God, she’d been out here. He rushed forward, finding her limp body lying there. She’d likely passed out from the smoke. He scooped her up and carried her out, nearly colliding with Travis on his way out.

“Is there anyone else inside?” Travis asked.

“There shouldn’t be. She lives alone, no pets. Just get the fire put out.”

Travis nodded and gestured back at the crew to bring on the hoses. Grant carried Pepper through the front yard, all the way across the street, and onto the grass of the house across the street.

The fire truck from Ashville pulled up then, and three guys jumped out to help. People were running everywhere, but all Grant cared about was Pepper. Her body was still limp, but she was alive. He felt at her throat for a pulse and found it, albeit weak. Her skin was covered in black soot, her clothes smudged and gray.

Isaac rushed up to them with his paramedic’s kit. “Is she breathing?”

“I heard her cough in the house, so she was,” he said.

Reluctantly, he sat back on his heels and let Isaac do his job. Adam, another one of the paramedics, joined him, pushing Grant completely out of the picture.

He stepped back, tightly hugging himself and barely breathing. She would be okay. She
had
to be okay. There wasn’t another option. He was a firefighter. There was no way in hell he’d allow the woman he loved to die in a damn house fire.

Especially since he hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell her that yet.

“Pepper?”

Pepper’s throat felt like she’d gargled with gravel. Her chest was tight. She had a funky taste on her tongue like she’d chewed up a charcoal briquette. There was something odd covering her nose and mouth and she could hear sirens and people shouting around her. What the hell was going on?

“Pepper, can you hear me?”

She forced her eyes open and looked up at the two men hovering over her. Beyond their faces was the night sky. She was outside. Why was she outside? She reached for what was on her face, pulling away what looked like an oxygen mask. “What’s going on?” she managed to ask before launching into a long coughing fit. When she was done, she fought to sit up, but the uniformed men insisted she stay flat for now.

“We’re getting you some water,” one of the men said as the other disappeared. “Put that mask back on, it will help you breathe.”

The gap was quickly filled by someone else. It took her a moment to realize that it was now Grant hovering there, holding her hand. He was smudged with black soot and the expression on his face was absolutely heartbreaking. He looked nearly devastated. He’d had that same look for a moment as she’d walked away from him last week. It had quickly faded to indifference, but tonight, it was followed by relief.

“Pepper? You’re okay!” he shouted.

“What’s going on?” she croaked through the mask.

The two men looked at each other and the other nodded at Grant. “Your house caught on fire, Pepper.”

“Oh my God,” she shouted, fighting to sit up and jerking down the mask. This time they let her. She needed to see. Her house couldn’t really be on fire. Not after she’d worked so hard on it.

There was only a narrow gap she could see between the fire trucks and the men running around the scene, but that was all it took. She could see the rear of the house engulfed in flames and the mix of the black-and-white smoke pouring overhead as the hard stream of water pounded at the brittle wood siding.

It was gone. She knew it in her heart. Even if they put out the fire in the next two minutes, she’d have lost almost everything. What wasn’t burned would be ruined by smoke or water damage. It was a hard pill to swallow, but all their hard work was for nothing. She’d only had a few weeks to enjoy her whole house and now it was gone. In the end, she had no house, no Grant . . . What was she going to do now?

The other paramedic came back and handed Pepper a bottle of water. The other draped a blanket over her shoulders. “We should get you over to the ambulance and get you checked out.”

Reluctantly, Pepper allowed the men to help her up and she followed them over to the ambulance where she sat on the back and allowed them to take all her vitals. She was fine. She was in public wearing mismatched pajamas and no bra, but she’d survive that. She tried to sip her water to soothe the burning in her throat and not think about how bad things had suddenly gotten.

About a half hour later, all seemed to quiet down. The fire was finally out. The neighbors had returned to their homes. The fire truck from the neighboring town packed up and rolled away, exposing the half of the house she couldn’t see before. She’d braced herself to see the entire building a pile of ash, but amazingly, the front all appeared to be intact. It was wet and sooty, but the whole thing hadn’t burned to the ground like she’d expected.

“Everything looks okay. I think you’ll be fine, but we can take you to the hospital as a precaution if you’d like,” a paramedic said.

Pepper shook her head. She didn’t need to go to the hospital. The only question was where she would go instead. To her brother’s house? They had established a tentative peace, but close proximity could shatter that pretty quickly. That left her parents’ house, where she would sleep in the old twin bed she’d had since she was ten. That didn’t excite her, either. She’d rather blow up an inflatable bed in the back room of the salon, although Sarah would have a fit and insist she stay at her house instead. She supposed that left her the option of staying at Miss Twila’s bed-and-breakfast, although she’d have to drag the poor woman out of her bed in the middle of the night.