Point of Origin (11 page)

“You? Never. Pray, do tell.”

“You’re lucky I’m driving,” I muttered.

“Well, you certainly have me as a captive audience. Now, what could you have done to possibly merit a claim like that?”

“She told me she loved me.” The words tasted sweet in my mouth, like caramel apples and redemption.

“Okay? She’s always loved you, and you’ve always loved her and blah, blah, blah. What the fuck is the big deal? She knows you’re too chicken shit to move home, and you know she’ll be miserable anywhere else but Legacy. All your issues are on the table, so what’s the big deal with loving each other? That’s like saying, ‘hey, man, the sun rose today,’” he mocked with a deep-voiced impression that was too close to my actual timbre.

I opened my mouth and then shut it again, unable to vocally process or admit to what I’d done.

“Oh, fuck. You didn’t say it back, did you? You left her hanging. Again. You let her pour her heart out and played stoic-asshole-of-the-mountain, didn’t you?”

I nodded once, and he groaned. “For being a tech genius, you’re a giant emotional moron. But it’s not that bad—totally salvageable. She’ll forgive you.”

“Really? Not that bad? What if it was Harper?” I asked.

His head swung my way. “Don’t even fucking joke about my sister, or make me think you’re joking. No. No fucking firefighters. She’s been through enough shit.”

“Right. And I’m the emotional moron.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, man.” If he hadn’t put it together, I wasn’t about to lay the pieces out. Not when our deadline was tonight, and we all needed to present a united front. What Harper wanted wasn’t my business. Or Ryker’s.

But Knox on the other hand…well, that was going to be interesting to watch.

I blinked. I wasn’t going to be around to watch. Not any of it. I wouldn’t see the team operate, wouldn’t be in on their barbecues, their family time. I’d put everything in place, but I wouldn’t watch it grow except by sending the checks.

I wouldn’t be around to see Emerson. To hold her, kiss her, get my hands on her insanely sexy body, hell, hear what plans she’d cooked up for the team. She’d stepped into a managerial role so easily it was almost like she’d been born for it.

The team was in her blood too.

How the fuck was I going to walk away from her?

Maybe I could come in once a year, just to see how things were going first-hand.

“Earth to Vargas,” Ryker nearly yelled. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I got a little lost in my own head.”

“Yeah, well, as I was saying, you can fix the Emerson stuff.”

“Really?” I questioned, speeding up another five miles-per-hour. I needed every second I could get.

“You just need to be honest with her. Tell her you’re in love with her, the mushy shit chicks want to hear.”

“And what? Fuck her over when I leave again? Come in once a year for a booty call?”

He snorted. “Glad you’ve got it planned out. I hate to break it to you, my brother, but unless you’re prepared to watch the years go by as Emerson finds someone she can love, gets married, starts having little brown-eyed babies with said guy, you’d better rethink that.”

Emerson. Married. Touching someone else. Curling up in their arms at the end of the night. It was just…wrong.

No one else knew that she only liked to be held for a few minutes before she went to sleep, but then she wanted her space. No one else knew that spearmint Tic Tacs were the only ones she wanted, that peppermint pissed her off. No one else knew how to touch her so that her breath stuttered, her lips parted, her hips bucked. Just the thought of someone else between her thighs—

“You know it’s the ten year anniversary for our dads, right?” Ryker asked.

“And?” I fired back.

And those brown-eyed babies? They’d have her exact shade, her brains, her courage…and my build, my hair—because damn it, I was the only one who’d be giving Emerson Kendrick babies. I’d be the only man attaching my last name to hers, sleeping next to her, loving her, fucking her, buying her god-forsaken Tic Tacs. No one else. Just me.

“Well, you’re going one hundred and ten, and it would just be really ironic if we died today, seeing as we’re supposed to lay wreaths at the memorial, and all.”

Only Ryker could say that without a hint of panic in his voice.

I checked the speedometer and immediately eased my foot off the gas, slowing back down to seventy-five.

“We need to make a stop at the Chatterbox before the Clubhouse,” I said as we pulled into town.

“Good. I could use some pancakes.”

I just needed the reality check.

***

“You sure you don’t want any of these? They’re so good.” Ryker offered his half-eaten strawberry pancakes.

“Nope, I’ve got somewhere I need to be,” I said, glancing at my watch. We only had an hour before the remembrance ceremony started.

“She’s at her mom’s shop,” Agnes called out as I headed for the door.

“You are a doll, Agnes,” I answered, walking into the sunshine. Damn door didn’t squeak, but maybe I’d get used to it.

I looked both ways across Main Street and then ran across the road, sniffing my zip-up fleece as I went. Maybe I should have showered again—I still smelled like the fire I’d just spent the week getting into containment. But if it was between getting a shower and getting my arms around Emerson, I’d take option number two.

Bells chimed as I opened to door to Kendrick Kreations, and the scent of fresh-cut flowers overpowered me. Flowers rested in displays in the bright space, with a thick counter separating the store from the workshop. Flowered wreaths stood from the front of the store to back, and I knew if I counted, there would be eighteen in that order.
Love Shack
played in the back of the shop, and I could make out Emerson’s mom singing from here.

“Just a minute,” she called out.

“I have the last one here,” Emerson said, backing her way through the swinging door, carrying the eighteenth wreath. Maybe I was going to hell for thinking it, but damn, her ass looked spectacular in those black pants.

“I can take that for you,” I offered.

She squealed, nearly dropping the wreath as she spun around. The flowers landed safely on the counter as she catapulted into my arms. “I smell like smoke,” I warned her, but pulled her closer in the same breath.

“I don’t care,” she said into my neck, the sound muffled.

I looped one of my arms around her ass and the other her back, my fingers tangling in the dark silk of her hair. God, she smelled delicious, bergamot and spearmint hitting my senses like a glimpse of heaven after I’d just spent the last week in hell.

“I missed you.” I pressed a kiss to her hair and let myself simply feel the moment instead of pushing it away like usual.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she squeezed me tighter.

Every other fire, I went home to my apartment, ordered a pizza and cracked a beer. Maybe I fiddled with tech or took a woman to bed. I got back to reality.

But this—holding Emerson, her arms looped around my neck, her legs dangling, her very relief breaking down the last of my walls—this was living.

I’d never been so glad to have survived a fire.

The bells chimed, and two men walked in, both in fire dress uniform.

“Hey, Emerson, Bash. We’re just going to grab the wreaths and take them to the memorial.”

“No problem, Colin,” Emerson answered as I lowered her to the ground. Damn it, all I wanted to do was kiss her. She looped her tiny arm around my waist, surprising me. In a town this small, I was pretty sure everyone knew what we were doing, but she’d never gone public about it. Going public meant people assumed, then asked questions. Now I fucking
needed
to kiss her, to stake my claim as easily as she’d done hers.

“How’s it going, Colin? Nate?” I asked the two firefighters. They were in the town’s department and had been since they graduated high school a little before me.

“Good,” Nate answered as he ushered a line of firefighters in to carry the wreaths out. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s doing great. Denver’s been good to her.”

“Well, we sure miss her around here. There aren’t as many financial advisors as good as she was—is. Not that I think she’s dead or anything. You know, I’m just going to help them carry the wreaths out.” He awkwardly backed away.

“It’s okay,” I laughed. “She’s not dead, and she’s still advising. You could call her; I’m sure she’d take you on. She’s got a soft spot for Legacy.”

“Yeah, okay, I might do that.” He backed out, taking the last wreath with him. “I’ll see you guys down there. And for what it’s worth, I think you have every right to your hotshot crew.”

The minute the door closed behind him, I kissed Emerson, holding her beautiful face between my hands. I meant to keep it light, but then her arms tightened around me, she gave me a little whimper, and I was done for.

I tilted her head for a better angle, and she opened under me. Fuck, she tasted incredible, the living embodiment of every dream I’d had for the last six years. Hell, since the moment I realized she wasn’t just another friend.

We didn’t have time, but I took it anyway, slanting my mouth over hers again and again, keeping her on edge, changing the pace until she was clinging to me.
Keep your hands to yourself.
We were supposed to be at the ceremony soon, and no matter how desperate I was to get inside her, to feel her walls holding me as tight as her arms, rocking against me, we had to go.

Damn it.

“Well, it looks like you two have picked right up where you left off,” Mrs. Kendrick said from the doorway.

I immediately let go of Emerson like she was in high school and stepped back, but she held onto my hand. “Ma’am.”

Mrs. Kendrick was basically an older version of Emerson, but Emmy had inherited those brown eyes from her dad, where Mrs. Kendrick openly judged me with bright blue ones. She hadn’t always been so harsh, but I hadn’t always been an asshole, either.

“Sebastian, please. We’re all adults now. You can call me Marla. Emmy, you left your purse in the back.”

“Be nice,” she said quietly to her Mom as she passed by.

Maybe being at that fire would have been safer for my health at that moment. “Ma’am, I know you pretty much hate me, but I’m not—”

“Oh, enough. I hated you when she was eighteen and heartbroken. But Emerson knows exactly what you’re capable of and still chose…whatever is going on with you two. She’s a fully-grown, capable woman, and her choices are her own. That being said, it would be lovely if you didn’t destroy her again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Got it,” Emerson said, coming through the door with her black purse slung across her chest. “You need to get home and get into a tie…and a shower. Shall we?”

She offered her hand, and I nodded.

It was time.

***

One by one, we stepped forward in honor of our fathers, and in a few cases, mothers. We laid the wreaths at the foot of the memorial—the single slab of black granite with all eighteen names etched into it—and joined the other family members at the front of the entire population of Legacy.

Mayor Davis gave his yearly speech on their bravery and sacrifice, and how they would be proud of what we’ve rebuilt. He looked away from me when I answered that last comment with an arched eyebrow.

I ran the numbers in my head as I glanced from family to family, and we were tight. Emerson said she had it covered, but I couldn’t see how, not unless
he
showed up. But it had been ten years since he’d stepped foot within town limits, and I didn’t see him making an exception today.

“And now, we’d like to have a moment of silence in remembrance of the Legacy Hotshot team.” Mayor Davis bowed his head at the exact moment they died, and the crowd followed, but I couldn’t look away from where my father’s name screamed at me from the monument.

The bell rang once for each death.

I didn’t see the crowd around me or register the beauty of the chimes. I was lost, sucked back ten years to the radio call going out.

Chime.
My father’s discovery that I hadn’t evacuated with my mother.

Chime.
Ordering me to get my ass back down the mountain.

Chime.
Charging Spencer with getting me away from the scene.

Chime.
My protests, then outright shouting as Spencer drove us back to town.

Chime.
The radio call that the cold front had moved in. Winds picked up.

Chime.
My father’s voice saying they were retreating to the anchor point.

Chime.
Emerson’s father calling for the rest of the team.

Chime.
Watching through Spencer’s back window as the fire came over the ridgeline, not far from where our Clubhouse was now.

Chime.
The realization that they might not make it.

Chime.
The order to deploy shelters.

Chime.
Spencer cursing, my outright screams, knowing what that meant.

Chime.
The silence.

My eyes slid shut, trying to block it out, to put that memory behind the iron walls I’d built.

Chime.
Emerson slid her small hand into mine, small tremors making her tiny fingers tremble.

Chime.
I covered that hand with both of mine, and her shaking stopped.

Chime.
Her head found my shoulder, steadying me, grounding me in the present, where I was more than the seventeen-year-old trainee who had gone where he wasn’t supposed to.

Chime.
I was a man now, who’d spent every minute of the last ten years working to rebuild this legacy.

Chime.
I was Emerson’s man.

Chime.
And I was done running.

Over an hour later and more certain than I’d ever been of our goal, we walked hand-in-hand into the town hall, followed by as many of the citizens of Legacy that would fit in the small space

The council looked horrified at the audience, except for Greg, who failed at disguising his smile.

“You ready for this?” Knox asked as we walked down the slight incline of what was quickly a standing-room-only meeting, headed for the front.