From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two (26 page)

Chapter 32

Finn Carson

Finn stalled near the top of the stairs, out of sight.

“Bedtime story, hmm … I could make one up
or
I think I might remember a song my mom used to sing to me before bed.”

Kendi must have nodded her response because Joselyn voice was the only reply. “All right, the song it is.”

Unable to help himself, he inched forward so he could peer around the corner to take in the scene. The sugary sweetness in Joselyn’s voice struck the center of his chest like a battering ram.

“
Sweetie-baby close your eyes, dream of daisy lullabies.

Snuggle close and make the most of dreaming sunshine in the night.

Sweetie-baby starry eyed, love you to the moon so bright

Cuddle closer, warm and just a kiss, my dear, sleep tight, goodnight.”

To a tune reminiscent of “Old Lang Sine,” the slow and tender melody on Joselyn’s honeyed voice unraveled the binds over his tortured heart.

The back of her head, cascading with minky, midnight locks halfway to her waist, was all he could see. He wished desperately to have witnessed the unguarded moment on her face.

She bent forward, touching a kiss to Kendi’s forehead, and lifted gingerly from beside the sleeping child on his bed. Tiptoeing away, she caught him, her wide eyes betraying her embarrassment before she brushed past and vaulted down the stairs.

He followed, still entranced by the tender moment, until she spun back and propped her fists on her hips.

“Speak.”

Ruff!
Dodger’s tags jingled as he trotted from his daybed. Sitting at her feet, he lifted his front legs and pawed at the air.

The scowl on her pretty face subsided when she glanced down at Dodger. “Not you, Dodge.”

Stepping closer to fill his lungs with her festive fragrance, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek and snatched back her attention. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She swatted his hand away as the frown returned. “This isn’t something you can smooth over with your sweet-talking lies.”

“I’m not lying.” He risked it and snaked an arm around her waist, levering her toward him. “You’re mesmerizing.”

This time she stayed, and Finn thanked his lucky stars. That is, until she spoke. “Yeah, well, talk is cheap, baby. If you’re not even gonna try to come up with an excuse for lying to me, I’m afraid we’re done here.” There was a cold resolve in her eyes, but it couldn’t hide the hurt engraved in the ice.

But could he really stand to let her see his monumental failure? To expose his scars and let her see how weak and wounded he was?

He owed her the truth, but the words building in his throat burned like hot acid—nearly as painful as the spill of fire that had devoured the back of his neck. And that recurrent nightmare still torturing him day and night since the Monroe fire seized him anew, this time with a paralyzing fear of losing the girl he loved all over again.

“Good-bye, Finn.” She leaned in, her lips touched his cheek with a feathery-light kiss, and she turned to leave.

He caught her wrist, feeling his pathetic weakness building behind his eyes. He had to take a chance. Had to face his demons and let someone in. Then she could decide for herself that he wasn’t worthy of her.

Weaving his fingers through hers he nodded and silently led her to the couch. She sat next to him, back stiff, and perched on the edge ready to flee.

Closing his eyes, he summoned help from on high for enough nerve to make it through to the end. When he opened his mouth the words scraped out coarse and quivering. “You remember Wally saying something about the Monroe fire?”

The distress in her eyes laced through him, webbing in his chest until he almost couldn’t breathe. She nodded.

“It was about five months ago. Right before Sadie’s neighbor was killed. When we got to the house, it was a bit like yours. Devastated. Consumed. Too dangerous to run in blind.”

The infernal images flashed in his mind. A melding of the hellish nightmares of the Monroe fire and Joselyn’s came together, sending a jolt of remembrance through him that felt more like electrocution than a daydream. He flinched, every muscle tightening.

Oh God, help.

“It looked abandoned,” he continued, “and it was literally crumbling before our eyes. We worked as hard and fast as we could from the outside. Normally there are a lot of onlookers, concerned neighbors. But the house was in a pretty sketchy area. I guess no one wanted to risk a brush with the law. Needless to say, there was no one to alert us if anyone currently lived there.

“But as I worked my way around to the back of the house with the hose, I spotted a little pink tricycle.” Finn swallowed, perspiration prickling his brow. His voice steeled low, his gaze reaching through the empty space, staring at nothing, yet every horrifying memory paraded in front of his eyes.

“My buddy Ryker and I went in. It felt like a suicide mission. In the kitchen he found a woman crumpled on the floor, badly burned. He got her out while I went to search the bedrooms.”

The heat from that moment in purgatory swelled around him, lost in the memory, he could scarcely force his lips to continue. “I—I tried to search what was left of the house. Chunks of ceiling were collapsing around me, but I made it and found a little girl huddled in the only square foot of her room—maybe of the whole house—that wasn’t on fire. Before I got to her a big piece on the roof came down on top of me.”

Finn reached back and touched the raised, angry skin he thanked God he couldn’t see when he looked in the mirror. Yes, he’d survived. And the scar was evidence of that act of mercy on his behalf.

But it was also a mocking reminder of the life he failed to save. He didn’t need any more reminders of that. He felt the loss every day, every moment. And the guilt had become an enemy within.

Silky soft fingers covered the ones he had on his neck. Stroking his fingertips away, she let hers balm over the ugliness. The gentle way she touched the puckered skin soothed to the depths of his soul where the wounds would never scar but lay festering and open. He latched on to the kindness in her eyes, and somehow, was able to keep going.

“The falling roof smashed my helmet and my mask, but I emerged from the rubble, burned but alive. And so was she. But there was no feasible escape at that point.” The sound of the crushed Legos hadn’t been discernible over the fire’s furious roar, but he heard them in his nightmares, accompanied by the scream of a slow suffering death.

“I kicked aside the charred remains of a dollhouse and some … Legos.”
Lord, why hadn’t I noticed.

  “And I axed through the floor. When I swept up the little girl, she reached out into the fire.” His eyes clouded with tears that teetered on the edge and then spilled over. “I didn’t know why, so I snatched her hand back to protect her and lowered us through the floor in the nick of time—before something ignited and an explosion shuddered through the house. I was able to drag her out from the crawlspace.”

Pent up anguish flowed out through his tears. He scrubbed his palms over his eyes and dropped his chin, sniffling back the weakness.

Finn felt the tender assurance of her presence when her fingers swept at the hair draping over his forehead. The whispered touch made him want to forget the rest and pull her into his arms. Distract himself from the cruelty of the truth.

“You’re a hero, Finn. Not only did you save that little girl, you saved me.” She tipped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“No.” The admission cut deep, more tears bled down his face. “No, I’m not.” 

Breathe
… “The little girl had a twin brother. He was hiding in a wooden hutch.” The unspoken words burned in his throat—it was now or never. “He burned to death. I didn’t save him.”

Tears gleamed in her eyes. “You couldn’t have known—”

“The Legos. Boy Legos. I saw them. Right by the dollhouse. And I didn’t even think to look for another child. And …” Tearing to his feet, he strode away and then turned back, battling with his self-loathing. “She tried to tell me. She reached out for her brother, and I left him there to die.”

He swallowed the knot in his throat; a hollowness settled into his stomach. “The little girl is Kendi. She wouldn’t let go of me after the fire. I stayed with her in the ambulance and at the hospital for three days while her burns and smoke inhalation were treated.” Lowering his voice, he added, “And my own.”  

Finn cleared his throat, reaching for a handhold as he sank down further into the suffocating memories. “I try to spend time with her every weekend. She’s living in a group home. It’s a temporary situation, but the place needs a lot of work, so I’ve been helping out with that too.”

Joselyn nodded, seeming to digest the information. “What about Kendi’s mother? Did she survive?”

“Yeah, she survived. But after she’d been treated—for the burns and the drug overdose—she was sent to jail to serve out a sentence for possession of meth. She’d been cooking some up that night—it’s what caused the fire.”

He shook his head in disgust, chasing away the hateful thoughts about the woman whose selfish choices resulted in the death of her son and the abandonment of her sweet, beautiful daughter.

“So, if she’s in jail, what happens to Kendi? Foster care? Do they send her back to her mother when she’s released?”

“Well, I had been talking to—” Cody. Finn didn’t dare say his name. “… to a lawyer, to feel this thing out and fight it if necessary. But the lady that runs the home called me today and said that Desiree Monroe signed away the rights to her daughter. Said that once she got out she didn’t want to be a mother anymore. Kendi found out today that her mommy’s never coming back for her.”

Joselyn’s eyes seemed to absorb too much. As if she could steal away the thoughts he’d left unspoken. “Maybe that’s best. Maybe she’ll be adopted. My father gave full custody to Yia-Yia the day he was released from the hospital after the car accident. Threw me away without a care. But honestly, as much as it still hurts that he could dispose of me so easily, especially after everything I’d already lost, I thank God he did it. Saved my life.”

He lowered back down to the couch beside her. “Your father doesn’t deserve you.” He reached over and squeezed her cold, delicate hand. “And Kendi’s mother certainly didn’t deserve such a precious child.

“But I worry. This is all pretty traumatic for a four-and-a-half-year-old. I don’t think she’s coping very well.”

“She’s almost five? Finn, she looks three. Barely. She’s so tiny.”

He knew what she was thinking—the child was frighteningly underweight. Another instance of neglect, in addition to the meth that had seeped into Kendi by default. A meth lab home was usually coated with the stuff—it was a miracle Kendi hadn’t suffered more symptoms of withdrawal. Malnourishment, exposure, it all compounded the reasons Finn needed to make sure Desiree Monroe never got custody of Kendi again.

And in light of her decision today, she wouldn’t. It might be the kindest cruel thing she would ever do for her daughter.

“She’s too small, I know. And fragile. She wouldn’t speak to anyone but me for two months after the fire. She’s finally starting to come out of her shell, and even still, she barely interacts with others.”

Something warm tingled in his stomach when he thought about the last two hours they’d all spent together. “She seemed quite taken with you.”

A sad smile tipped her lips. “The feeling is mutual. Plus, I … uh, sort of … thought she might be your daughter.”

“My daughter?” That explained the intent behind those probing glances. “I don’t have any kids, Joss. That’s not to say that I wouldn’t love to have her, but it’s a complicated process.”

She nodded, and silence thickened the air between them. In the still, quiet moment, the balm of her words rushed back to him.

You’re a hero, Finn. Not only did you save that little girl, you saved me.

If only he could believe that. But as much as he wanted to, the guilt was stronger. He simply couldn’t forgive himself. Couldn’t forget the cost of his failure.

Why couldn’t you have helped me save him? Why must I live with his blood on my hands?

And why, when he reached out for what had already been freely given, did forgiveness keep slipping from his grasp?

Having laid the truth of his failings out for her to see, he searched her eyes for the disgust, or the pity. Instead, he saw a flicker of something he’d seen once before, the moment she’d come crashing into his arms the night of the fire. Something peaceful. Like she’d surrendered to the end. The panic that had ignited from that look had somehow propelled him through a dangerous maze of destruction with inexplicable choreography and timing. He’d gotten her out. Yes, maybe even saved her.

But this wasn’t over. The hounds of hell kept coming back. With his faulty instincts and his confidence gone, it was only a matter of time before the fire bested him again. And the thought of Joselyn dying at his hand, well, that was something he knew he couldn’t live with. Time to face reality.

“Joss, I’m afraid I’m not the best person to protect you. Maybe someone like Sal could make sure you’re safe. I know they’re all watching but I still feel responsible, and I fear that if I fail at this, I-I’ll never recover.” And there it was. Plain and simple. He was weak. Useless. Bailing out felt like the only means of survival.

A war of doubts raged in his head. But he silenced them the best he could. Silenced Joselyn’s attempts to change his mind as well.

The tragic death of Kameron Monroe was enough to torment the night. If anything happened to Joselyn, he knew the devastation would blot out the sun forever.