Page 3 of Willow Embers
“What about Search and Rescue?” I ask. “Is there still a local team?”
Breigh is silent for a second before she says, “There is. It’s mostly the guys from the local hotshot firefighter teams when they have days off, but they usually only look for people.”
“But it couldn’t hurt to ask, right?” The worst they can say is no. “Do you know anyone on the team?”
“It’s Black Timber, sweetie. Everyone knows everyone. Give me a sec.”
The seconds that tick by feel like minutes, and with every one that passes, the vice that’s slowly closing around my chest cranks a little tighter. Then my phone pings loudly in my ear and I wince.
“Just sent you the contact info, but I can’t promise anything,” she says hesitantly.
I get the sense there’s something she’s not telling me, and when I look at the message, there’s no name. Just a phone number. I’m about to press for a little more detail when she asks, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”
I shake my head. “I’m sure. And thank you, Breigh. Seriously.”
“You know I’ve got you. Just remember, positive thoughts. You’ll find him, and you’ll call me crying happy tears when you do.”
A watery laugh slips through my lips. “You know me so well.”
I hang up and do a couple of rounds of box breathing to regain some measure of emotional control as I stare at the number she sent me.
TWO
BEAUDEN
The popand sizzle of thick steaks hitting the grill. A frosty beer sweating in my hand. Laughter and trash talk bouncing between a group of guys I would trust with my life. This should be my happy place. Not quiet, not calm, but solid. Familiar.
So, why the hell are my shoulders wound tight enough to snap?
I take a swig of my beer. It’s cold and crisp. Should be perfect. Just like the steaks, with their rich, smoky scent wafting off the grill. But it’s all… off. The beer isn’t quenching my thirst. The steak isn’t making my mouth water.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was getting sick.
But I do know better.
The problem is… Nixie.
I glare down at the label on my bottle, jaw tight. Seeing her last night was like getting blindsided by a memory I thought I’d buried. And the look on her face when she recognized me? I’ve taken body shots that hurt less.
“Yo, Beauden, you still with us?” Aspen asks.
I drag my attention away from the bottle and give him a non-committal nod as I lean back in my seat.
“He’s been in a mood since he got here,” Jace chimes in.
“Slept like shit,” I offer.
It wasn’t a lie. I’d laid awake in my bed staring into the dark, grinding my teeth on old memories for what felt like hours.
“Yeah? Who’d you take home last night?” Aspen asks, leaning forward. “Was it that hot brunette you bumped into?”
The thought of taking Nixie home with me isn’t what heats my blood. It’s the way he talks about her.That hot brunette.
Which, why? I have no claim on Nixie Wells. Not anymore. What went down between us is years in the past. We were two dumb kids who thought teenage love could outrun distance. We were wrong.
That was life.
Besides, if what we had back then was real, she would have waited for me.
