Page 32 of From the Ashes

After all, the worst thing that can happen…just happened. I let Colt back in and he proved me right. I doubt anyone else can wound me that deeply, so why not be brave and attempt something new?

Not now, though. I will at least give myself time to grieve.

It’s finally the point at which to let this thing between us die. I should have done it fifteen years ago.

Yara has let me be quiet the whole return drive. We pull back into the station after a call to a house fire. Luckily, it wasn’t too serious, but we did take the family into San Clemente General to be treated for smoke inhalation just as a precaution. The guys got the blaze out before we even left, so I’m not surprised to see the rest of the One-Thirteen back before us. Although by the way they’re still sorting the kit out and tending to the rigs, I’d guess they didn’t beat us by much.

“Del,” Yara says as I kill the engine on our bus.

I know it’s childish, but I pretend like I don’t hear her and continue out the door, intending to head into the back and do the inventory checks and replacements immediately. It’s standard practice anyway, but I’ll also do anything to avoid talking about Colt or seeing her pitying looks right now.

She made me promise I’d keep my head, and I lost it the first chance I got. I don’t have anyone else to blame for how wretched I’m feeling other than myself.

“Hey, guys,” Lieutenant Flores calls out from where he’s working on lunch in the kitchen area. “Everything go okay with the family?”

I nod, walking a little farther into the heart of the house to speak to him. The stock take can wait a minute if I’m not being forced to examine how much of a careless idiot I’ve been.

“The little boy was pretty badly shaken,” I tell him. “But once Bell found his favorite stuffy for him, unharmed, he calmed down considerably.”

“Lucky most of the damage was around the kitchen,” Lochlan Bell chimes in from where he’s putting food down for Rocky, whose tail is whirling like a helicopter in anticipation.

I’m distracted from the conversation when I glance over at the dining table and see a couple of non-firefighters hard at work. “Rebecca,” I say in surprise but then I grin at her. “Are you following me, young lady? That’s two days in a row I’ve seen you!”

She looks up from her workbook and waves enthusiastically at me. “Hi, Del! I’m not following you, I swear. Mommy dropped me off after school as she and Brent have to do boring grown-up errands. I’m just doing my homework, then Daddy said I can watch TV if nobody else minds.”

“Of course we won’t mind, Becca Bean,” Sawyer tells her from where he’s checking oxygen tanks. As Anton’s best friend, I know Rebecca sees him as one of her own uncles. I love big, complicated families like that. It really does take a village to raise a child.

“And a good job she’s doing of her studies, as well,” says the impeccably dressed lady sitting next to Anton’s daughter, her voice warm with praise.

Mrs. Sylvia Bloom is the fire house’s neighbor who’s always popping in to see us, often with baked goods or a casserole. Sure enough, I can see Lieutenant Flores putting a couple of pre-cooked lasagnas into the oven as we speak. As a wealthy widower, she’s made it her business to fuss over us whenever she feels like, which tends to be most of the time.

Especially if she sniffs even a hint of drama.

“Miss Quick was telling me in between working on her book report that you and your friend Mr. Ross are teaching her and her friends to surf,” Mrs. Bloom says, arching her eyebrow like that’s the most fascinating gossip she’s ever heard. “Isn’t that right, Margot?”

The pristinely groomed shih tzu dog, Miss Margot Fonteyn, raises her head from where she was napping on one of the chairs to give a little ‘woof,’ presumably at hearing her namementioned. The hair has been pulled out of her eyes by a sparkling rose gold bow that perfectly matches Mrs. Bloom’s nails and the purse that’s sitting on the table by Rebecca’s homework.

That’s definitely not an accident.

“Rebecca says that you and Mr. Ross went to school together and that he’s recently back in town?” she says.

It might not be worded like a question, but I can hear one anyway. So much for avoiding talking about Colt. Her piercing stare tells me she’s smelled blood in the water and she’s not going to relent until I’ve spilled all my secrets.

Suddenly, I’m so very tired. I sigh and slump into one of the unoccupied chairs opposite Mrs. Bloom. Even though they don’t have much in common, she reminds me of my grandma in this moment. Obviously, I haven’t told Teta what happened yesterday because she’d be unfairly upset with Colt when it’s really all my fault. But the overwhelming urge to get some grandmotherly advice overtakes my pride.

Aware that not only Yara but the rest of our team are nearby, I lean my elbows on the table and rub my chest as I speak quietly to Mrs. Bloom. “We were…best friends…at school. But no one knew.”

“That you were ‘best friends’?” she asks. Her air quotes are obvious even if she doesn’t move her fingers. I don’t know if I’m relieved she cracked my code or not. Trying to discuss my predicament with people and not out Colt is hard.

I nod. “Yeah.Bestfriends. Then he left for college, and we literally didn’t speak again until he arrived back in Redwood Bay a couple of weeks ago.”

“He rescued my friend Nevaeh from the ocean!” Rebecca cries, kicking her feet under the table, oblivious to the subtext of the adult’s conversation around her.

That’s when Yara drops down beside me and loops her arm with mine and rests her head on my shoulder. “I don’t think he deserved to be your ‘best friend,’” she grumbles. “Now or then.”

Rebecca frowns. “But Colt is nice,” she says in confusion. “He wasn’t mean to you after our surfing lesson yesterday, was he, Del? Daddy said we had to go home as it was past dinner time. I’m sorry we didn’t say goodbye, but you guys looked busy.”

I sigh and offer her what I hope is a placating smile. “We were busy, so don’t be sorry. Daddy was right, and that was polite of you. Do you remember Colt’s clothes got all wet?” She nods. “Well, I suggested he could come back to my place and get changed.”

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