Firefly Mountain (31 page)

“Put it on, Vanessa!” he said as he zipped into his own.

“What about Carter?” Vanessa sobbed as she looked over the side of the boat.

Patrick waved his hand. “I’ve got him. Put on the vest and jump in. That boat is going down.”

Something in Patrick’s voice must have overridden the girl’s shock, because she hurried into her vest and climbed over the railing.

“You have a buoy?” Patrick called.

The other young man disappeared from view for a moment then came back with a bright yellow horseshoe-shaped flotation device.

“Throw it to me.” Patrick maneuvered his grip on the skier so he had one hand free to catch the buoy. It smacked into the water right in front of Patrick, and he quickly grabbed it. He fit it around the skier to make towing him to shore easier. The other two boat passengers jumped in and splashed along behind him.

Patrick used all his available strength to paddle them both to shore. When he felt sand beneath his feet, he stood and hauled the skier to the beach. He assessed the gash in the kid’s head and felt around for a pulse in his neck. He found one, faint, but steady.

Patrick started CPR and within minutes the young man was coughing and retching up seawater. Someone on the beach must have called 911, because two EMTs appeared and took over for Patrick. One fussed around at the blood soaking his ripped T-shirt, but Patrick said he was okay with enough force that the tech backed away to tend to the more seriously injured skier.

Nodding at the applause filtering from the assembled crowd, Patrick walked away, but the girl from the boat clamped onto his arm. She shook as water ran in rivulets from her long brown hair.

“Is he…is Carter going to be okay?” A violent shiver wracked through her small frame.

“He’ll be fine.” Patrick turned the girl so she could see Carter answering the EMT’s questions. Patrick tried to cover the hole in his shirt, but the material had been completely torn away by the pier debris. He settled for resting his arm across it but knew his skin was exposed. As the girl turned away from Carter, Patrick watched her wide blue eyes zero in on his left side.

“You’re bleeding,” she said and turned to get one of the EMTs.

“I’m fine. Really.”

She squinted at his side and shook her head. “It doesn’t look fine. It looks terrible.”

It wasn’t the fresh slash across his side that looked terrible. It was hardly bleeding. What had worried the girl, Patrick was sure, was the years-old ruined skin. Enough of it was in view that Patrick knew it was turning the girl’s already knotted stomach. The look on her face hurt worse than the gouge in his side.

“You should get back to your friend,” he said.

Patrick quickly turned around and nearly ran into Gini.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He looked past her to the towels still spread out on the sand. If he could get to one, he’d be able to keep his secrets. Patrick started to walk around Gini, but she stepped into his path.

“Patrick.”

He stacked both of his arms over his torn shirt and turned his left side away from Gini.

“Patrick, you need medical attention. There’s blood on your hands.” She took several steps closer to him, and he backed up.

“It’s the kid’s blood. I’m fine, Gini. Just go. Please.”

“I will not just go.” Gini had her hands on her hips now, and she didn’t look happy. “You zip off to be the hero and can’t admit you need some help. Let me see.” She touched his arm, and he jerked away.

“I don’t need any help.” Patrick tried again to step around her, but an EMT sidled up next to him.

“Let’s have a look at that, sir.”

Patrick hesitated.

“You can’t bleed all over the beach.” Gini threw her hands out and let them slap against her thighs. Her hands closed into tight fists as if she wanted to hit him.

Patrick swallowed around the lump in his throat. He shouldn’t have come to the beach with Gini. Too big of a risk even without the unexpected rescue. He was playing with fire, and he of all people knew better.

The EMT eased him over to the beach towels. Patrick wanted nothing more than to curl up in the towel until Gini left. But she wouldn’t go. She stood over him then kneeled beside him. She was so close. Too close, but the EMT didn’t tell her to move.

Blue latex gloved hands ripped the rest of his shirt away, and Gini gasped. The sound echoed between Patrick’s ears and burned his heart.

Shock battled with the rising anger. Gini stared at Patrick’s chest and wondered what in Hell had happened to him. Today’s injury, a small slice across his left side, was nothing in comparison to the scarred flesh that spanned from the waistband of his pants up to under his left shoulder. Old scars. How long had he lived with them?

Camera shy.
Gini covered her mouth with her hand as she realized what she’d been doing to Patrick. Asking him to bare his chest for a stupid calendar. Pulling his shirt from his pants without his permission. Insisting he come to the beach with her.
The beach.

Gini shook her head and hated herself. What kind of a woman didn’t respect a man’s privacy? What kind of a woman thought only about what she wanted? Good Goddess, she was so stupid.

She looked at Patrick, and his eyes held so much hurt in them. Gini had a hundred things she wanted to say—a hundred apologies—but didn’t get the chance.

The gazebo up on the lawn behind her erupted into flames, and Gini ran. Ran from her anger. Ran from the pain she’d caused Patrick. Ran from the fire she’d started.

Four trees went up in a red-orange fury as Gini bolted for the cottage. She wasn’t using any of her calming tricks. She wasn’t thinking of how to cool down. Her rage—her disgust with herself—consumed her like the fire burning the gazebo and the trees.

When she reached the cottage, she ripped open the door and stumbled inside, running headlong into Lily.

“What the fuck is happening out there?” Lily asked.

“Call 911,” Gini managed. Her body was a limp rag, completely drained.

“No shit. Already did that.” Lily put a steadying hand on Gini’s shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

Gini shook her head. “I just…help me calm down. I need to stop the anger.”

“Don’t we all.” Lily tugged on her lip ring then put her other hand on Gini’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Water,” Gini rasped. “Get me some water.”

Lily shrugged and went to the kitchen. Gini slid to the foyer floor and rested her head against the front door. She started counting, but her mind kept going back to Patrick’s chest. She should have gone to him as he lay on that towel, exposed and…afraid. Told him he didn’t have to hide from her. Told him he was beautiful in her eyes, because he was. But her anger hadn’t allowed her to.

Something sparked in the kitchen and Lily yelped. Gini banged her head against the door and forced herself to use her techniques. She breathed deeply, recited poems, named the colors of the rainbow over and over again until the rage fizzled. Gini barely had control of it. She guzzled the water Lily had brought her.

“The toaster cord caught on fire,” Lily said. “Had to throw the first glass of water on it.”

Gini wiped her mouth on her arm and mopped her brow with the back of her hand. Slowly, she stood and climbed the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Lily asked.

“Home. I have to go home.”

Gini gathered all her belongings and tossed them into her suitcase. She slid a gauzy skirt and tank top over her bathing suit and grabbed her purse. Her father was right. She couldn’t be on her own. She wasn’t safe to be around.

She was also a huge jerk.

Stifling the prickle of anger trying to push to the surface, Gini left the cottage and headed for her SUV. Fire trucks filled the semi-circular drive, and a police officer made her wait to back out. She tapped her hands on the steering wheel as she watched fighters drag hoses to the gazebo and trees. She caught a quick glimpse of Patrick being escorted by the EMT to one of the ambulances.

She should throw the car into park and go to him. Explain why she had to leave right now. Explain that she was a monster. Explain that she wanted to be with him no matter what he thought he had to hide from her beneath his shirt.

The police officer knocked on her window signaling she was good to go. Gini took one last look at Patrick, for she knew it would probably be her last, and pulled out of the driveway. The fighters would put out her blazes. Patrick would have that cut tended to. She’d go home and have her parents…contain her. She shouldn’t be among the rest of the humans. Not only was she dangerous with her pyrokinesis, she was also a horrible person. Just horrible.

****

Patrick didn’t flinch as the doctor stitched his side. The scarred skin around the new injury wasn’t sensitive to the touch anymore. Hadn’t been since the burns had healed.
If you could call that skin
healed
, that is.

He reviewed the afternoon’s events as the doctor finished up. The rescue made sense. Standard protocol on his part. Patrick hadn’t thought about what he was doing. He just did it. The skier, he was told, was going to be fine. Couple of gashes and a broken ankle, but other than that the kid had gotten lucky. The boat had been caught before it was totally submerged and had been towed to the nearest marina. The other young man and the girl had escorted their friend to the hospital. They were shaken up, but not hurt. The driver admitted to being a little tipsy behind the wheel of the boat. His judgment had been off, and he’d gotten too close to the pier. Stupid kids.

What didn’t make sense were the fires. The gazebo and trees had gone up like firework displays. Bang. Instant explosions of flames. Patrick couldn’t understand what had happened.

And then there was Gini. She made sense too. She’d taken one look at his scars and ran for it. Just as he’d known she would. She didn’t want to be stuck looking at his mess. Hell, if he could run away, he would have a long time ago. But there was nowhere for him to go. He had to accept he was spoiled goods and destined to be alone for the rest of his life.

“There. All set, Mr. Barre,” the doctor said.

“Thank you.” Patrick slid off the exam table.

“Mind if I ask about those?” The doctor pointed to the scars.

“House fire,” Patrick said. “When I was sixteen.”

“I see,” the doctor said. “Did you explore plastic surgery options?”

“Yes. Some of the scars are better than they would be because of plastic surgery.” Patrick accepted the white T-shirt the doctor handed him. “But this is as good as they’ll ever get.”

“Burns are tough,” the doctor said.

“Now there’s a bumper sticker.” Patrick offered a weak smile and left the exam room. His pants were almost dry, but when he pulled out his cell phone, it was not going to be calling anyone again. Sand was caked between the buttons and water was trapped behind the screen. His wallet hadn’t fared much better.

Patrick stopped at the front desk. “Is there a phone I can use to call a ride?” He set his destroyed cell phone on the desk, and the receptionist gave him an empathetic smile.

“You saved that water skier, right?” she asked.

Patrick nodded.

“I suppose I can let a hero use my phone.” Her grin widened as she pushed her desk phone over to him.

“Thank you.” Patrick dialed Raina’s cell phone, and she picked up on the fourth ring.

“Who is this?” she asked. “I don’t know this number.”

“It’s me, Raina,” Patrick said. “Look, I’m all right, but—”

“What happened? Oh, God. Where are you?”

“Raina, listen.” He’d known she would freak. “I’m okay. Just needed a couple of stitches. Can you come get me at the hospital?”

“You sure you’re all right?”

As all right as I’m going to be.
“Yes. Fine. Just come.”

“On my way.”

Raina hung up, and Patrick thanked the receptionist for the use of her phone.

“Any time.” She looked Patrick over. “Anything else I can do for you?” She arched an eyebrow.

Patrick felt like pulling up the T-shirt to save time and energy. One peek and she’d lose that seductive smile in seconds.

“I’m all set. Have a good one.” He walked through the automatic double doors and sat on a bench outside to wait for Raina.

When she pulled up to the curb, Patrick eased into the passenger seat. Raina looked at him, but he shook his head.

“Later, okay? Later.”

Raina reached over and squeezed his hand as she merged back into the traffic. He wanted to get back to his woods in Vermont. Back to his Fortress of Solitude. A solitude that would probably crush him now that he knew what it was like to hold and kiss—to want—a woman like Gini. But he couldn’t have her.

She didn’t want him.

****

Night had fallen by the time Gini pulled her SUV into Jonah’s driveway. Her father’s truck was parked next to the Mustang, and Gini let out a breath, relieved that her family was all in one spot. The drive had calmed her some. Enough that she hadn’t set any passing tractor-trailers on fire anyway.

Empty. That was all she felt right now. Drained of all emotion and strength.

She made it to Jonah’s front door and opened it. Two things hit her right away. One was her mother’s laughter floating on the air as she cracked up over something on the television. The sound enveloped Gini, pulled her into the living room, brought tears to her eyes. The second was Midas’s paws scritch-scratching on the hardwood floor as he trotted over to her.

Gini kneeled and buried her face in the dog’s soft fur. He licked her ear and made happy doggy noises as his tail wagged back and forth. Why weren’t humans this easy to read?

“Oh, sweetie,” Liz said as soon as she saw Gini. Her face went from apology mode to panic mode in two seconds flat. “What’s wrong, Gini?” She was on her feet and pulling Gini into a hug.

Walter helped Jonah up from the couch, and they joined the embrace. Gini soaked in their energy, their protection, their love.

“Gini,” Walter said, “I’m sorry. I should have never—”

“No, Daddy.” Gini stepped out of the Claremont group hug and shook her head. “I understand why you thought what you thought. I was hurt. I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t. What you said to me cut deep.”