Reaper's Fire
Page 44
“What’s with all the smoke?” she asked, her voice still fuzzy.
“Wildfires,” Dad told her. He seemed to be tracking now that we’d left the city, something that wasn’t lost on me. Hopefully, he’d do better once he was back in his home environment.
“Sheesh,” she murmured. “Hope they don’t burn too close to any towns.”
Spotting a gas station up ahead, I flipped on my turn signal and pulled up to the pumps.
“Hand me my wallet, will you?” I asked Randi. She passed it forward and I dug out my debit card. Dad stayed put in the car as she took off for the convenience store, following the pattern we’d established early on in the trip. I’d pump the gas, then park the car and bring Dad in with me. If things worked out, Randi would be done by then, and she’d help keep an eye on him while I took my own bathroom break. So far the system was working.
How much longer will you let this go on? Brandon’s voice whispered in my head. The man’s practically a vegetable. He’d confronted me again last night, full of fresh arguments now that my lawyer was turning up the heat.
I shook my head, rejecting the thought. Why the hell should I let Brandon’s bullshit infect me? He had no idea what Dad was capable of on his home turf. He’d snap right back once we reached the apartment building.
Even if he didn’t, he wasn’t a fucking vegetable.
No, my soon-to-be ex-husband would do better to suck it up and give my attorney the fucking financial information so we could divide up our assets, because this had dragged out long enough. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had something to hide. That was crazy, though. Brandon’s family had more money than God—what did he need with our piddly shared savings accounts, anyway? I slammed the nozzle into the tank hard, feeling pissy. I leaned against the car as the gas started to flow, looking out across the hill. The sky was dim, even though it was only three in the afternoon.
“That’s a hell of a lot of smoke,” Dad muttered when I climbed back into the SUV. “Just like last summer, when Omak burned. Ugly business.”
“Hope it stays far away from us,” I replied. “Let’s go inside. You want anything to drink?”
“I could use some water and a bathroom break. Can’t wait to get home. I love you, baby girl, and I’ll always support you, but that husband of yours makes me uncomfortable.”
“Daddy, I think you forgot—I’m divorcing Brandon. As soon as possible, actually. With any luck, you’ll never have to see him again.”
My father’s face transformed as a blinding smile took over. Then he was hugging me, squeezing me hard as I laughed, because life is weird.
“Thank God,” he said. “Don’t like the way he talks to you. And don’t think I forgot what he did, either—I may be old and losing my mind, but a father never forgets the man who abandoned his grandchild to die alone.”
Ouch.
“I’d rather not talk about that,” I reminded him, even though part of me rejoiced, because I wasn’t the only one who remembered her. He’d loved her, too, from the first minute I’d told him I was pregnant. Whatever was going on in his head, it wasn’t stealing away his love for his family, and I needed that. He was all I had left. “But don’t worry—it’s definitely over between me and Brandon. And you’re right about the way he talks to me, too. I’ll never fall for his shit again, I promise.”
• • •
We found Randi inside the convenience store, staring up at a TV mounted in the corner behind the counter. Aerial shots of massive trees engulfed in flame filled the screen. There weren’t a lot of people inside, just one other customer and the clerk, but all eyes were glued to the news.
“As you can see, the fires are growing rapidly,” a reporter said, her voice incongruously perky. “Although at this point, officials tell us that it hasn’t spread outside the national forest and no buildings are threatened. Even so, they’re urging residents and those traveling through the region to be careful. Air quality is extremely low in some areas due to smoke, which poses a serious risk to anyone with asthma or other pulmonary conditions. Additionally, the Washington State Department of Transportation is reporting multiple road closures due to poor visibility.”
The screen changed, flashing to a map showing several roads highlighted.
“As you can see, I-90 is closed from Vantage to Ritzville. We’re also getting word that while Highway 97 near Chelan remains open, visibility is growing worse and officials are considering a closure there in the near future.”
“Isn’t that where we’re going?” Randi asked, eyes wide. I nodded, frowning.
“Yeah,” I said. “We’d better get going—I don’t want to get stuck driving all the way around. Creepy, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
• • •
Despite the reporter’s warnings, we made it back to Hallies Falls just fine.
I dropped Randi off at her mom’s house, and then Dad and I headed for the apartment building. As we pulled up, I saw Cooper’s semi was parked out back again—guess he’d finished his job.
Whatever.
I parked on the street in front of the house instead of the parking lot, so it’d be easier to unload the car. Even though I was dead tired, I couldn’t help but notice how spectacular the sunset was—guess all that smoke was good for something. Raising my phone, I snapped a picture of the brilliant pinks and reds filling the sky across the valley. That’s when I heard the sound of footsteps behind me.
“Fires suck, but the smoke sure as hell paints a pretty picture, doesn’t it?” Cooper said, his voice low and rough. It sent a thrill racing through me, one that I pushed down ruthlessly, because nothing had changed. He was still attached to his crazy bitch of a girlfriend.
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted, refusing to look at him. He stepped closer, and I felt the warmth of his body behind me. Lean back into him. You know you want to. I moved forward instead, putting distance between us before turning to look at him.
Mistake.
I’d sort of convinced myself that I’d imagined how sexy he was. I mean, theoretically Brandon was sexy, too, but I had no trouble controlling myself around him. (I’d gotten over the whole smooth, metrosexual thing right around the time he was too busy to show up at the hospital when I needed him most.)
“Wildfires,” Dad told her. He seemed to be tracking now that we’d left the city, something that wasn’t lost on me. Hopefully, he’d do better once he was back in his home environment.
“Sheesh,” she murmured. “Hope they don’t burn too close to any towns.”
Spotting a gas station up ahead, I flipped on my turn signal and pulled up to the pumps.
“Hand me my wallet, will you?” I asked Randi. She passed it forward and I dug out my debit card. Dad stayed put in the car as she took off for the convenience store, following the pattern we’d established early on in the trip. I’d pump the gas, then park the car and bring Dad in with me. If things worked out, Randi would be done by then, and she’d help keep an eye on him while I took my own bathroom break. So far the system was working.
How much longer will you let this go on? Brandon’s voice whispered in my head. The man’s practically a vegetable. He’d confronted me again last night, full of fresh arguments now that my lawyer was turning up the heat.
I shook my head, rejecting the thought. Why the hell should I let Brandon’s bullshit infect me? He had no idea what Dad was capable of on his home turf. He’d snap right back once we reached the apartment building.
Even if he didn’t, he wasn’t a fucking vegetable.
No, my soon-to-be ex-husband would do better to suck it up and give my attorney the fucking financial information so we could divide up our assets, because this had dragged out long enough. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had something to hide. That was crazy, though. Brandon’s family had more money than God—what did he need with our piddly shared savings accounts, anyway? I slammed the nozzle into the tank hard, feeling pissy. I leaned against the car as the gas started to flow, looking out across the hill. The sky was dim, even though it was only three in the afternoon.
“That’s a hell of a lot of smoke,” Dad muttered when I climbed back into the SUV. “Just like last summer, when Omak burned. Ugly business.”
“Hope it stays far away from us,” I replied. “Let’s go inside. You want anything to drink?”
“I could use some water and a bathroom break. Can’t wait to get home. I love you, baby girl, and I’ll always support you, but that husband of yours makes me uncomfortable.”
“Daddy, I think you forgot—I’m divorcing Brandon. As soon as possible, actually. With any luck, you’ll never have to see him again.”
My father’s face transformed as a blinding smile took over. Then he was hugging me, squeezing me hard as I laughed, because life is weird.
“Thank God,” he said. “Don’t like the way he talks to you. And don’t think I forgot what he did, either—I may be old and losing my mind, but a father never forgets the man who abandoned his grandchild to die alone.”
Ouch.
“I’d rather not talk about that,” I reminded him, even though part of me rejoiced, because I wasn’t the only one who remembered her. He’d loved her, too, from the first minute I’d told him I was pregnant. Whatever was going on in his head, it wasn’t stealing away his love for his family, and I needed that. He was all I had left. “But don’t worry—it’s definitely over between me and Brandon. And you’re right about the way he talks to me, too. I’ll never fall for his shit again, I promise.”
• • •
We found Randi inside the convenience store, staring up at a TV mounted in the corner behind the counter. Aerial shots of massive trees engulfed in flame filled the screen. There weren’t a lot of people inside, just one other customer and the clerk, but all eyes were glued to the news.
“As you can see, the fires are growing rapidly,” a reporter said, her voice incongruously perky. “Although at this point, officials tell us that it hasn’t spread outside the national forest and no buildings are threatened. Even so, they’re urging residents and those traveling through the region to be careful. Air quality is extremely low in some areas due to smoke, which poses a serious risk to anyone with asthma or other pulmonary conditions. Additionally, the Washington State Department of Transportation is reporting multiple road closures due to poor visibility.”
The screen changed, flashing to a map showing several roads highlighted.
“As you can see, I-90 is closed from Vantage to Ritzville. We’re also getting word that while Highway 97 near Chelan remains open, visibility is growing worse and officials are considering a closure there in the near future.”
“Isn’t that where we’re going?” Randi asked, eyes wide. I nodded, frowning.
“Yeah,” I said. “We’d better get going—I don’t want to get stuck driving all the way around. Creepy, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
• • •
Despite the reporter’s warnings, we made it back to Hallies Falls just fine.
I dropped Randi off at her mom’s house, and then Dad and I headed for the apartment building. As we pulled up, I saw Cooper’s semi was parked out back again—guess he’d finished his job.
Whatever.
I parked on the street in front of the house instead of the parking lot, so it’d be easier to unload the car. Even though I was dead tired, I couldn’t help but notice how spectacular the sunset was—guess all that smoke was good for something. Raising my phone, I snapped a picture of the brilliant pinks and reds filling the sky across the valley. That’s when I heard the sound of footsteps behind me.
“Fires suck, but the smoke sure as hell paints a pretty picture, doesn’t it?” Cooper said, his voice low and rough. It sent a thrill racing through me, one that I pushed down ruthlessly, because nothing had changed. He was still attached to his crazy bitch of a girlfriend.
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted, refusing to look at him. He stepped closer, and I felt the warmth of his body behind me. Lean back into him. You know you want to. I moved forward instead, putting distance between us before turning to look at him.
Mistake.
I’d sort of convinced myself that I’d imagined how sexy he was. I mean, theoretically Brandon was sexy, too, but I had no trouble controlling myself around him. (I’d gotten over the whole smooth, metrosexual thing right around the time he was too busy to show up at the hospital when I needed him most.)
