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“You do? One you made?” At Noah’s nod, Willow tilted her head and studied him. Then, softly, she asked, “For whom did you make the crib, Noah?”
Well, hell. “Guess I’m gonna have to do this. Let’s go sit in the other room where it’s comfortable.”
Willow moved to return Socks to the pen, but Noah stopped her. He picked up their drinks and headed for the apartment. “Bring the dog. Emotional-support puppy, remember?”
There, he set the drinks on the coffee table and flipped the switch to ignite the gas logs in the fireplace. He needed some sort of background music. Did he have any dirges on his playlist?
No, but he did have some old-time country western. Hank Williams could come pretty close. Recalling the dance with Willow at her brother’s wedding, he went for Patsy Cline turned down low.
Willow sat on the sofa in front of where he’d placed her drink. Noah knelt beside the fireplace and flipped open the woodbox where he’d stored a selection of dog toys. As he dug through the box, he began. “I owe you an apology.”
Surprise filled her voice. “For what?”
He pulled a toy made of braided yarn from the box, then sat on the floor and looked up at Willow, holding her gaze. “I want to apologize for ghosting you. After we sealed the deal.”
After they’d kissed.
“Oh. Well. Yes, I did wonder if I misread things.” Willow set down the puppy, who scampered over toward Noah.
“No. Not at all. You knocked my socks off.” He offered the toy to the puppy, and they began the tug-of-war. Willow sipped her drink and waited. He quirked a smile. “Not going to make this any easier on me, are you?”
“Not my job to make things easy.”
Noah nodded. “It scared me. When I’m scared, I run away.It’s what I do. What I’ve been doing since I watched my brother die.”
“Oh, Noah. I take it back. Can I make it easier? Don’t feel like you have to tell me anything. Seriously, we’re good.”
He grinned at her, reached into the toy box, grabbed a ball, and tossed it to her. Willow was quick, and she caught it. “You’re offering to be my emotional-support person?”
“I guess I am.”
Noah scooped up the puppy as he rose, walked to the sofa, and dropped beside her. He set the puppy on his lap, but an intelligent girl, she crawled halfway into Willow’s. Noah draped his right arm around Willow’s shoulders and stroked the puppy’s back with his left. He drew a deep breath and began. “Firefighting is in my blood. Truly was the family business. I’d always known that when I stopped playing football, I’d head for the fire academy, and that’s what I did. My grandfather, two uncles, and my dad were all Denver firefighters. Daniel—my brother—and I worked out of the same station where our dad had been chief.”
“Was Daniel older than you or younger?”
“Older. Daniel was our lieutenant.” Noah paused and reached for his drink. A little fortifying inner fire to get through this. “He wasn’t on shift that night. He wasn’t supposed to be at the station. The call came in from an old warehouse on the edge of downtown. Four-alarm fire. Our truck was first on the scene. We were a crew of three. Me, John Wilson, and our driver, Mack Kulpa. John and I were clearing the building—had some homeless folk tucked away in nooks and crannies. It was going up fast, but we were getting the job done.”
He shut his eyes and was catapulted back into the nightmare.
The heat. The smoke.Cra-a-a-ck!
Whoosh.Noah had lunged away, but a mountain slammedinto him.I’m down. Pinned down.Agony. Radiating. Radiating. Radiating.Can’t move. Can’t move. Can’t move.
Coppery-tasting fear washed through him.Where’s Wilson?He had been right beside Noah. “Wilson, report!” Nothing. “John!”
Think. Think!He keyed the radio. “Firefighters down. Firefighters trapped. Second division. Charlie side.”
The radio crackled. Kulpa, the driver, replied. “Cavalry is coming, Noah. Half a dozen more trucks are on-site, and crews are on the way up. The loo just arrived.”
Daniel?
Yeah, of course his brother would show up.
“Wilson?” Noah tried again. “Talk to me, bud—” He broke off when a cough racked his body.
By the time he caught his breath again, he spied figures coming up the stairs. Two men crossed the smoke-filled room to him. Familiar faces. Harrison and Kemp. “Wilson?”
“We’ve got eyes on him, Noah. We’re gonna get him out. First, though, let’s get you loose.”
