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“Something’s burning.”
Chapter Eleven
Brandon hadn't meant to be a stalker. He'd meant to come and apologize for his behavior earlier that day. He’d said he was sorry before turning and hightailing out of the garden, but he couldn't sit still for the rest of the day. The heat of his memories from the ambush, the cold lick down his spine of the shame, the numbness of the helplessness he felt knocked into him like a missile.
He couldn’t shake it. He had to see her. Not just to apologize, but also to hear her voice again. It was the only salve that had worked.
Not keeping silent about it. Not talking to one of the VA doctors or the ranch doctor. Not listening to gospel music of the exact same song she’d sang on streaming sites. None of it.
The only thing he wanted, the only thing he craved was the sound of Reegan’s voice. When he thought of her, the tension throughout his body eased up. When he showed up outside her house an hour ago, just the sight of her through the open curtains loosened the grip of the stressors inside him.
He needed to apologize again for the tone he’d taken with her. But he also just wanted to be near her, to be there for her. That scene back on the ranch, all those questions she fired at him, he knew she was going through the bargaining stage. Pretty soon, she’d be at acceptance, but not before grief sank its claws in her and rung tears from her eyes.
Brandon had an insatiable need to be there when it happened. He’d watched through the window like a stalker as she mingled with her neighbors and friends. All throughout the room people were crying or teary-eyed. Everyone except Reegan. She kept that stiff upper lip, much like her brother wore each day Brandon had known the man.
Though he wanted to be with her, the idea of wading through the crowd of people made him itch. Luckily, the house began to empty soon after he arrived, leaving her alone. Before he could take the steps to knock on the door, she’d started to sing.
He’d morphed fully into a creepy stalker, and standing outside her window. Peering inside and peeping in as she sang a haunting tune.
And then, as though she sensed him, she opened her eyes and looked right at him. Brandon felt like a bug on the wall. He held still, certain that if he didn’t move, she couldn’t see him. But she had, and now she was standing in the doorway.
Her curvy form filled the rectangular doorway. Her red hair flaming behind her, her blue eyes open wide with a look between fear and hope.
“Reece?”
She mouthed the name, her voice barely above a whisper. But Brandon heard it. What came out loud and clear was the disappointment when she realized that he wasn’t her brother.
“I’m sorry,” Brandon said coming closer. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just …”
The night wind rushed him from the side. It brought a familiar smell. The noxious smell of burning gas. The foul smell of charred vegetation. The fetid odor of hot metal.
“Something’s burning.”
He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t wait to be invited in. He dashed past Reegan and into the house.
He saw the first spark coming from behind the oven door. The pop, crack, and fizzling sounds of electricity forced him to take a step back. When he did, he bumped into the warm flesh of Reegan.
He might have had time to put out the impending fire. He would never know. His first reaction, his only reaction, was to protect Reegan. He pulled her into his arms, putting his body between her and the short-circuiting appliance.
Brandon had heard men and women in the service talk about their partners back home as their other halves. Reegan Cartwright fit perfectly into his chest like they’d been one whole person who had been carved apart at birth. Now that she was in his arms, nothing would tear them apart.
Except maybe the encroaching flames that were licking their way out of the oven.
He picked her up in his arms and raced through the house. They were over the threshold of the front door when the loud bang sounded. The flames worked fast, eating through the kitchen and reaching for the living room.
Whipping out his phone, Brandon dialed 911. After the call disconnected, he felt the flames growing stronger as they made their way into the front of the house. Brandon expected Reegan to fight to get back, to try and get inside and save her belongings. But she hadn't struggled. There was no fight in her as she watched the flames eat at her house.
By now, the neighbors were coming out of the woodwork. People he was sure she'd known her whole life came up to her. Instead of accepting their comfort, Reegan stayed inside Brandon's arms. She rested the side of her head against his chest. The tears he’d expected the first day he met her finally streamed down her face. Her arms were around him, her nails digging into his back.
The firetrucks had arrived as the flames became visible in the second story windows. Brandon cradled Reegan as they sprayed the blaze. By the time the fire was under control, and only the moonlight lit up the night, the downstairs of the home was charred.
All around her, people made offers of sheltering Reegan in their homes. She didn’t pay any of them any mind. She clung to Brandon, wordlessly. The only sound was her even breathing as her chest heaved, pushing out silent tears from the corners of her eyes.
He knew she was exhausted. Emotionally as well as physically. He held all her weight. He knew if he let her go, she would dissolve into a puddle. The last thing he wanted was for her to be out of his arms, out of his sight, out of his care.
"Come back to the ranch," Brandon whispered in her ear.
For the first time since she’d stood on her doorstep looking down at him in disappointment, Reegan blinked. Her head tilted back as she looked up at him. There was only a small light in her large blue eyes. It took her a moment to focus, and then she nodded.
