Page 96 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
He shrugs and takes a sip of his wine. “I appreciate every day. I realize I get to come home when others don’t.” His voice is soft, reflective with a hint of sorrow.
“Do you feel like you’re doing that?” I’m not sure how he’s going to respond, but I feel the need to ask the question.
He sighs and twists his lips as he thinks. “I know where you’re going with this, and I’d rather not, okay? After the accident, I should want to live life to the fullest and all that jazz. Never miss another moment to make memories. I get it. I do. But you know what? I lived, and he didn’t. I walked away, and he has a wife and son he never went home to.” There is no anger in his voice, just solemnity.
“Do you think that by punishing yourself the rest of your life it’s going to make his death count for something? Because the way I see it, it makes it count for less.” Grady starts to stand, and I grab on to his hand and make him stay put. “No, hear me out then I’ll drop it.” He sits back down, but his muscles beneath my fingers don’t relax. “You were given a second chance, Grady. You were given something most people don’t get. Think about how you lived before the accident. Think about how you’ve lived since. Sometimes, life gives us a second chance at things. At realizing we should test ourselves and question ourselves . . . maybe you got a second chance because the first go round you weren’t ready.”
In my periphery, I can see him close his eyes briefly and try to rein in the emotion my words have conjured. “I tell myself every day I’m going to do better. I’m going to be better. I’m going to face everything and rise.”
“Face everything and rise. I like that.”
“It’s one of my dad’s favorite sayings.” I get a tight smile from him and then he continues. “And then I feel the stretch of my scars. I see something that reminds me of Drew. I hear someone in town whisper as I walk by. And then I’m back to square one.”
“You feel the stretch of your scars because you’re alive, Grady. You see something that reminds you of Drew because he was like your third brother. I’d worry if you weren’t reminded of him. And the townspeople whisper for several reasons. First, they point you out because you’re the hero who tried to save your fallen brother. Second, they point you out because they think you’re sexy and wonder how to approach you, and third, they whisper because I’ve staked my claim on you and they wonder why Grady Malone, son of Sunnyville, would dare be with an outsider of the town instead of with one of their own.”
He slides a look to me as his smile widens on his lips and his eyes alight with humor. “Staked your claim on me, have you?”
“Damn straight,” I say with a smile. “You know people are saying, ‘She could have Jett Kroger and she’s picking Grady Malone. His dick must be huge.’”
His laughter echoes around us, and I love the sound of it. “Is that so?”
“There’s no complaints from me in that department.” I lift an eyebrow and smile.
“There better not be.” He part tackles, part hugs me until I lie back on the rock, my wine sloshing over the edge of the cup in the process. “I’d be happy to make you not complain again . . . right here, right now.” He presses a kiss to my lips that stifles my laughter.
“I knew you had an ulterior motive for bringing me up here.”
“Sex al fresco.” His lips are on mine again in a languorous kiss that draws sensations from my toes all the way to my hair.
“Can’t say I’ve had sex on a mountaintop before.”
“You sure you want me to make you go weak in the knees before you have to walk back down?”
“Oh God.” I laugh. Then sigh the words again as his lips find the underside of my neck and cause chills to chase over my skin. “So, you are trying to off me,” I finally say when I can find words again.
“Mmm. Death due to being orgasmicly sexed,” he whispers in my ear before running the tip of his tongue around the edge of my lobe. “I can think of worse ways to go.”
“You watching this?”
I stare at the news on television and watch the destruction unfold. “Yeah,” I say to my dad, who sits patiently on the other end of the phone. “We’ve already been given notice. If they can’t contain it, we’ll be called up.”
The fire rages on the screen. It marches up the hill and eats the dry vegetation as if it’s starving. Black clouds of smoke billow. Lines of yellow jackets from the strike team edge the top part of the screen as they try to cut a fire line into the hill to slow down its progress.
“It’s already doubled in size in less than four hours.”
“I’m aware,” I murmur.
This used to be what I lived for. The thrill of the fire. The unexpected pull. That tingle in my belly, telling me I get to be a part of it.
“You gonna be able to handle it?”
And for the first time in almost two years, I feel the hum in my veins. It’s welcome. It’s scary. It may very well disappear if we get called up, but for now, I’ll take what I can get.
“Yeah. I’ll be able to handle it.”
“It’s the season. Long, dry summer. Santa Ana winds. If it isn’t this one, it will be another one.”
I nod even though he can’t see it. He’s planting the seed I need to prepare for facing the fire as if I haven’t been already. “I know.”
