SCORCHED: A Firefighter Stepbrother Romance Thriller (3 page)

But the
feeling that I knew
him, that we’d met before,
just
wouldn’t leave me. When I heard him strip off his face gear, I opened my eyes.

He was
slow to come into focus. My mind was still a mess, twisting light and shadow
and color into some dark dreamscape where nothing made sense. But with each
breath I took, my vision became sharper, and soon I knew exactly
who
I was staring at.

That
dark, silky hair.
That hard, furrowed brow. Those gleaming green
eyes narrowed into slits, yet still reflecting genuine concern. Lips pulled
taut beneath a few days’ worth of stubble that made him look more like a man
than I remembered him seeming the last time I’d
lain
eyes on him.

“Fuck,”
I wheezed. “Gunner?”

He
looked me over. “Do I know you?”

Finally,
I laughed. It was weak and I sounded like a frog, but after those four
ridiculous words, I could let my hysteria out.

He
didn’t wait for my answer. A new face came into view as Gunner pulled away, his
mask leaving me just long enough for a smaller one to be strapped in its place.
Gunner turned back toward the building and before I could say a word, he was
gone.

My
long-lost stepbrother had saved my life. And he didn’t even recognize me.

Chapter 3

Gunner

“Paging
Doctor Powell. Doctor Powell, please call extension . . . ”

The
intercom blared through the linoleum-lined hallway, but I couldn’t have cared
less about what it had to say. I hated hospitals. Ever since my stepmother,
Nancy, had gone the way she had—withered, gaunt, with tubes sticking out
of her nose and her arms—I couldn’t see hospitals as anything other than
death houses.

The
worst part, I think, is all the damn waiting, sitting outside while doctors and
nurses poke and prod, asking the same questions over and over without ever
giving any answers. I remembered the way my dad had sat in the waiting room
time after time whenever they’d hospitalize Mom for her treatments, the look on
his face: hopelessness.

And now
I was back, sitting where he’d been while Mom turned into a hollowed-out husk, powerless
to even lift a finger to help her.

Things
hadn’t gotten any better after she’d passed. Dad started
drinking,
back to the same old self he’d been after my birth mom had left. Nancy had
breathed life into him, and for once, I hadn’t had to pick him up off the couch
and pull him back to bed. Her effect on him was probably why I’d come to love
Nancy the way I did—the way a son loves his own mother. She showed me
that I wasn’t the only one who cared what happened to Jim.

Fuckin
’ Jim
.

This
time, the whiskey made him mean when before he’d just been pathetic. He’d cuss
and scream, pour all of his blame and hatred on Tanya and I until I couldn’t
take it anymore. I screamed back, argued, and fought until both our voices were
hoarse and Tanya was crying into my shirt. I remembered the anger, the
resentment. But more than that, I remembered the first time he hit me.

He had
come home late—which wasn’t out of the ordinary back then—reeking
of booze and cigarettes. I’d put Tanya to bed hours before and waited at the
kitchen table, my jaw set and ready for the screaming match that was about to
happen. He started in on me as soon as he came into the kitchen, yelling and
screaming about how I wasn’t worth a damn, about how everything that had
happened was
all my
fault. How Nancy’s death was
all my
fault.

None of
it made sense, obviously. Not a whole lot I could do about her cancer. So I
yelled back, like always, but that time he thought he’d teach a lesson to my
left eye.

I don’t
remember much after that. Just the pain, then the sound of his head hitting the
oven door as I crumpled to the floor. I’d hit him
back,
hit him so hard that I might have even broke his nose.

Then
suddenly I was outside, walking. I couldn’t even remember how long I’d been
walking for—minutes? Hours? Before I knew it, I was on my friend Chuck’s
doorstep, asking if he had a spot on his couch I could crash on for a while.

I’d
never gone back. Never even bothered to try talking to my dad again. As far as
I’d been concerned that part of my life was buried, even the shame I’d felt for
leaving Tanya back there with that asshole.

She must fucking hate me
, I
thought. Hell, I hated myself for what I’d done. If there was a shittiest stepbrother
of the century award, I should have probably put my name in for consideration.
And
who
the hell knew what Jim had told her all these
years? Who knew if she’d believed him?

Shit. I
couldn’t believe how much she’d changed—how much of a woman she’d become.
In my head, all I could imagine was the pudgy little ten-year-old, smiling at
me while we walked home from school together after I picked her up. That wasn’t
her now, though. Now Tanya was . . . taller.
Slender, but with curves that could knock a man out.
She
weighed almost nothing, but even from the brief time I’d held her in my arms, I
could tell she was all muscle.

That
hair. Those lips. Those eyes. I hadn’t even recognized her. Had actually,
shamefully been thinking about cashing in my “I saved your life” card and
fucking her in the moment before I went back into that goddamned inferno. Now
that I knew she was my stepsister, that urge should’ve gone away.

Why the fuck hasn’t it, though?

I
glanced over toward the door to Tanya’s
room,
movement
drawing my gaze as a nurse in blue scrubs gently closed the door after herself.
Our eyes locked and she
make
a beeline right for me.

“Mr.
Cole?” she asked, a tight smile tugging at her lips. It was the kind of smile
you give someone you’d rather not be talking to.

“Gunner
Cole.”
Mr. Cole
was what peopled
called Jim. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“So far,
we think your sister is going to be fine,” she said. I let out a sigh of
relief. “They haven’t found any soot in her lungs The worst she has is just
some minor burns on her palms, and her
bloodwork
is
what you’d expect after all that smoke inhalation.”

Well,
that was all good news. “Can I go in and see her?” I asked.

“Your
sister has gone through a lot today, Mr. Cole. I think letting her rest might
be the best—”

“I
haven’t seen her in a long time,” I interrupted. “Years, actually. And when I
pulled her out of that fire . . . ”

Who was
I kidding? When I pulled Tanya out of that fire, I was just in it for myself.
One more rescue. One more life saved to mark on my wall. It was all about me.

It
wasn’t until the phone call from the hospital that I’d realized just what a dick
I was, how much of a fucking asshole, piece of shit I’d turned out to be for
her. I’d probably disappointed her just as much as Jim had, over the years.
Maybe worse.

I ran
my hand through my hair. “I’d just—I’d really like to be able to see her.
Please?”

The
nurse looked at me for a long time, almost like she was sizing me up, deciding
whether or not it was worth it. But after a while she sighed and stepped away,
waving me through.

“You’ve
got a few minutes. But she needs
rest
.”

“Thank
you . . . ” I glanced down at her nametag. “Claudia.”

“
Mmmhmm
,” she replied, retreating to the nurse’s station.

The
curtain was closed when I came into the room, blocking my view. Despite what
the nurse had said, a bit of dread crept into the pit of my stomach. Images of
my stepmother lying in that hospital bed all those years ago flashed before my
eyes and a chill seized my heart.

“Tanya?”
I whispered. They’d given her a private room—thank God. I don’t think I
could have dealt with having some stranger sit in while I tried to . . . to
do what, exactly? Apologize? Was there even an apology for doing something as
terrible as leaving her to be abused by my asshole of a father? And hell, I’d
done it again, didn’t I? I’d left her outside that apartment.

I should’ve stayed. I should’ve protected
her. Instead I ran off to play hero to a bunch of other people while she still
needed my help . . . 

No… I
couldn’t think that way. I’d pulled six people out of that fire. Two kids. I’d
have gone back in even if I had recognized her. It’s my job… It’s my
responsibility.

“Gunner?”
Her voice was hoarse, raspy, like she’d been smoking since she was eight. “Is
that you?”

It took
me a moment to steel my nerves again. “Yeah,” I said, slowly pulling the
curtain aside.

God,
she was so pretty, even lying there in the hospital bed. It had been impossible
to see with her face covered in ash and soot, but now that she’d been cleaned
up, I could see the woman that my stepsister had become.

Instead
of the little girl I’d put to bed every night, I saw a fully grown young woman,
her cheekbones and slender jaw reminding me of how Nancy had looked when she
and my father had first gotten married. Those had been good times for us all.
Looking at Tanya was a bittersweet reminder of what could have been. How the
hell did I fail to see it when I pulled her out of the fire?

“My
hero,” she said, her smile lighting up the room as I took a seat next to her
bed. “Who’d have thought my big brother would be saving people from burning
buildings for a living?”

“You
know me. Always looking for trouble, right?” I tried to look cheerful, but my
smile faltered as Tanya tried to push herself up in bed with her bandaged right
hand.

“I
can’t believe it was you,” she said, doing her best to make it seem like she
wasn’t in any pain. “I had to fight with the nurse to get a call out to your
station. When you went back into the building… I thought I might lose you
again.”

Whatever
she was feeling, emotional or physical, she was hiding it well. Her face
remained stoic. I remembered the way our mom had done the exact same thing when
she got sick. “Jesus, Gunner, when did you decide you wanted to be a big damn
hero?”

I
shrugged, toying with a frayed thread poking out of the arm of the chair. This
wasn’t what I’d been expecting. I thought she’d yell. Cry. Scream at me to
leave her the hell alone. But here she was, a few seconds shy of being burned
to a crisp and asking me how the hell
my
life
was. What was I supposed to say to her?

“Come
on,” she prodded, “I know you don’t just wake up one day and say ‘I want to be
a fireman.’ ”

“I
don’t know—I guess I always wanted to save people.”

Since I failed to save you from Dad
.

“Well,
shit,” she murmured. I could tell they’d given her something to take off the
edge—probably morphine. “Now I can tell everyone my stepbrother’s a big,
strong fireman. You know, instead of telling them you don’t exist . . . ”

I
sighed, running my fingers through my hair as I glanced around the room. I was
waiting for her to bring it up—to bring up the way I’d just left her and
never even bothered to so much as call her to make sure she was okay.

“What
about you?” I asked. “What’re you doing now?”

Her
smile faded for just a moment before it came back full force. “Oh, me? I’m a
waitress.”

Shit.
If I’d stuck around, she could have been so much more. “You must be making some
damn good tips to be able to afford your own place in this city.”

“Yeah,
we’re pretty busy,
y’know
? And I’ve got my regulars.
It’s not the best, but it’s enough to get by.” Once again, her smile faded. Her
eyes glazed. “Though, I guess now I don’t really
have
a place, do I?”

My
heart sank on her behalf. Tanya had lost everything in that fire. And all she
had to show for it was a pair of burned hands and a voice like a bullfrog. Shit.
How was she even going to waitress if she couldn’t carry a tray?

“Holy
fuck,” she whispered. “It’s gone. It’s all gone . . . ”

“Tanya,”
I began, but stopped as I saw the faint glimmer of tears welling in her eyes.

“Everything’s
gone,” she choked. “
Everything,
Gunner.
My clothes, my shoes, my TV—everything.
I don’t even have anywhere to sleep tonight.” She paused, breath hitching, a
little wheeze escaping her throat. I grabbed the cup of water from the tray
beside her and held it out so she could bring it to her lips.

She
took a few pained swallows and grimaced. Then, very softly, she said, “Jesus.
Why do I always end up alone?”

My
heart broke in two right then and there.

I
wracked my brain for ways to make it better, for some idea of how I could
lessen the blow I’d watched so many other people suffer while I was one the
job, something Tanya never should have had to face. She was right. She’d lost
so much already. Most of that was my fault.
All my
fucking fault.

I had
to do something. Something big. I owed her.

I
reached over, wrapping my arms around her as the first drops of tears fell from
her face. I pulled her in tight the way I’d done the night Nancy had passed
away and Tanya’s tears had stained my shoulder.