Page 43 of Shielding His Heart
ALEC
Iturn it off while I retrieve my gear and speed over to the church. There’s nothing else I can do but my job. When I arrive at the address, smoke billows out, sooty black against the clear, blue sky. Flames lick from openings in the structure, waves of heat emanate from the rippling sheets of fire, and ash rains down like soft snow. Familiar faces watch, awestruck, as ropes of fire destroy everything in its path.
First Baptist has sat empty since the hurricane, the structural damage too severe for repair. The new church was built closer to the elementary school. Unfortunately, there are a lot of dilapidated properties like this around Lake County turning to ruins of their former selves. It’s no surprise that all I can do is control the fire until it spends itself out. It was a tinder box in such recent dry weather.
Zeke arrives at the scene, grim-faced underneath his gear. For once, I’m glad I’m not the one in charge. I’d hate to deal with the investigation, the spotlight, and the blowback from the town when this is confirmed as arson, too. Tension is already high after no new leads on the gym fire.
It doesn’t make any sense. Battleboro has barely three thousand residents. Most people here grew up together, work together, and our kids are friends. I can’t imagine anyone we know being responsible for something like this. It feels hateful, personal. Like someone is attacking the heart of Battleboro by destroying pieces of its history.
An hour later, most of the fire is contained. What’s left of the church is now a mass of blackened wood, shattered glass, and other unidentifiable debris. The crowd watching has doubled in size, and there is an identical expression on all their faces: disbelief.
“I’ll take over here,” Zeke says. “I know you’ve got a lot to deal with back home. Remy and Walker are on the way.”
For the first time in my career, I leave the scene at his request and go home. There’s no way I’m making the same mistake twice, knowing I should be home with my family when they need me. Mom’s car is in the driveway when I pull up. The remnants of the party still litter the sidewalk. Hard to think that had only happened a few hours ago. It feels like years.
Gemma and Mom are passed out on the couch. I find Paisley in her room, looking so small and innocent in her pastel sheets and quilt. She starts in surprise when I step in, and she rolls over in bed, sniffling and rubbing her face. My heart breaks into a thousand pieces because I know this is one of those things I simply can’t fix for her, and I hate that.
“Paise, baby. We need to talk.” I close the door so we don’t wake Gemma or my mom. There’s an ache in my belly driving me to look for Tana and make certain she didn’t run, but Paisley needs me, too.
“I don’t—don’t want to,” she hiccups. “I want you to leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that, sweetheart, and you know it. We have to talk about what happened.”
Her little shoulders shake with the effort of her tears. God, I fucking hate this. “You’re going to tell me I have to apologize to Mr. Leon, but I won’t. I meant every word. If it wasn’t for him and his son, Mom would be okay. She would have remembered I liked strawberry cake, not chocolate. She wouldn’t have needed to be reminded today was my birthday.” She takes a good few minutes to get all the words out between her tears. With each one, my heart cracks a little more.
Stretching out on the bed behind her, I wrap my arms around her. I’d give anything to take away this pain. If I could protect her and Gemma from this, I would do whatever it required in a heartbeat. One of the worst things about being a parent is when you know your kids have realized you’re infallible. “I know, honey. I wish those things too, sometimes.”
There’s a pause, punctuated with a sniffle. “You do?”
“Of course I do. I miss her too, very much. It’s okay to be sad about it, even mad sometimes. I’ll never get onto you about that. It’s been very hard on all of us, and you’ve been so brave and so strong for your sister. But it’s okay for you to not be okay.”
“I thought—thought I’d be okay when she came home because at least she didn’t die, but this is almost worse.” She shudders with her tears. “It’s like living with her ghost.”
“Oh, honey.” I give in and scoop her up from the covers to hold her little body in my lap. She cries into my chest, something she hasn’t really done since the accident. “I know it’s hard. It’s been hard on me, too. On everyone.” Rubbing her back gently, I kiss her hair. “But it’s not okay to bottle these feelings up. That’s what we have Dr. Teatree for. To tell him how we’re feeling so we can figure out how to deal with it as a family. So we don’t go yelling at our neighbors.”
“He deserved it.”
Sighing, I say, “Can’t say I haven’t wanted to do a little hollering myself, and sometimes you’re entitled. But if you hold on to that kind of anger, it festers inside of you until you’re angry all the time. And that’s not the kind of life you want to live, sweet girl. It’s my job as your dad to help you deal with it and give you the tools to express it in a healthy way. But it’s your job to tell me when you need help.”
“I didn’t want to make you upset when you seemed so happy to have her home.”
I close my eyes and press my cheek against her head. When did she get so damn grown-up? “You don’t worry about that. I’m responsible for my own feelings, too, but yours come first.”
All the tension melts out of her, and she breathes deeply. “Dad?” Paisley asks.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Do you think there’s any cake left?”
Chuckling, I help her to her feet. “I’m sure we can find some.”
We find plenty of cake and ice cream. What—or should I say who—I don’t find is Tana. Not that I’m truly surprised.
Mom eyes me like she wants to tell me to go the hell after her, but she wisely holds her tongue. After she leaves, I clean up the rest of the mess from the birthday party, feeling hollow and spent. I’m fighting every urge inside me to go after her, but my instincts tell me she needs time.
So, I’ll give her time.
And then I’m going after what’s mine.
