From Nowhere (Wildfire #2)

Chapter Forty-Two Ozzy

Chapter Forty-Two

Ozzy

“Lola, dinner’s ready,” I call while towel drying my hair after a shower to cool my temper.

“Lola,” I call again, knocking on her door two times before opening it. She’s not in her room. I check the rest of the basement.

“Lola,” I call again on my way up the stairs. “Is she up here?” I ask Amos when I round the corner into the dining room, because I’m not talking to Tia.

He shrugs and shakes his head. I frown while pivoting.

After checking the back and front yards, the garage for her bike, and calling her name a half dozen times outside, I return to the house with my fucking heart ready to explode.

Amos and Tia have started their own search in the house. She’s not here. I checked everywhere.

“Did she go to one of the neighbors?” Amos asks when he reaches the top of the stairs. “Maybe she heard the arguing and decided to go to a friend’s house.”

I shake my head. “None of her friends live nearby, and her bike is still here.”

Jesus. Where is my child?

My phone rings. I can barely hear it because it’s downstairs. I fly in that direction, quickly answering Maren’s call. “I have to call you back, sorry. Lola’s missing, and I need to—”

“She’s with me.”

I shake my head. “What? No. Her bike is here. Are you here?” I turn in a circle. What am I missing? Is this a joke? Are they hiding?

Maren sniffles, and it’s like a gut punch. Something is wrong. “What happened to her? Just tell me.” I run a frustrated hand through my hair.

“She texted me and said you and Tia were fighting. She wanted me to come get her, but I told her I couldn’t ride a bike yet. And—”

“Maren! Dammit! Is my daughter okay?” My voice cracks because this feeling in my gut is unbearably painful. It’s the “Your wife is dead” or the “Your girlfriend’s plane crashed” feeling.

“Yes, Ozzy. She’s fine. We picked her up in my RAV and drove her back to my house because that’s what she wanted.”

I turn toward my bedroom door, where Tia and Amos are waiting. Tia has tears in her eyes, and her hand is cupped over her mouth. She knows something is wrong from my outburst, and she sees the panic on my face.

“What?” I whisper.

Maren laughs, or maybe she’s crying. I can’t tell. “Ozzy, Lola got into a vehicle, and I know she was scared but so damn brave too. And I didn’t push her to do it. She decided all on her own. I wanted to call you but didn’t want to jinx it or make her change her mind, so we just went with it. I wasn’t driving, my dad was, but he’s a very safe driver, and ...” She trails off, out of breath, her words chasing one another like the world’s longest run-on sentence.

She sniffles. “When we got here, I sat in the back seat with her for five minutes before she whispered, ‘I did it,’ unbuckled, and ran into my house to tell Bandit.” Maren releases another laughing sob. “She wanted to tell the cat first. The cat , Ozzy.” She laughs some more.

“What is it?” Tia steps into my room, blotting her eyes, face contorted with worry. “Tell us!”

I slowly shake my head and whisper, “She’s fine.”

Ghosts aren’t my thing. I’ve never believed in them, and there’s never been a day where I felt a dead person’s presence. Sometimes, I’ve hoped Brynn was seeing something, like Lola striking out a batter in softball, but I’ve never felt her—until now.

“She’s fine, Ozzy. You’re both going to be just fine,” Brynn whispers as if she were alive with her lips at my ear.

Over the next week, Tia and Amos pack their belongings. As much as I’ve looked forward to this day, it’s bittersweet.

“She’s what you need,” Tia says while we watch from the porch as Lola follows Amos to the moving truck with the last box.

“I know. You’ve said this repeatedly.” I sigh.

Tia rests her hand on my back. “I’m not talking about Lola. I’m talking about Maren.”

I glance at Tia while she keeps her teary-eyed gaze on the moving truck.

She smiles, dropping her hand from my back to blot the corners of her eyes. “I hope you never lose a child. It changes you. Losing a child crushes your heart beyond repair. When the life you brought into this world leaves before you, happiness dies, and the emptiness in your chest fills with anger as you try to make sense of the incomprehensible.”

She swallows hard and clears her throat. “Ozzy, I’m sorry. I hate the woman I am without my daughter. I hate that I can’t stop blaming you for what wasn’t your fault. It’s like”—she shakes her head—“the burden to make it make sense is too much because it doesn’t make sense. Unless ...”

I do something I haven’t done since Brynn died.

I turn toward Brynn’s grief-stricken mother and hug her. “Unless you can put the blame on me.”

Tia’s body shakes with sobs while her fingers clench my shirt.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I can take it from you. I can’t bring her back, but I can carry the burden.”

She releases me, quickly wiping her face. Tia doesn’t let herself fall apart for long. Her pride won’t allow it.

“Maren will never be Lola’s mom.” She eyes me as if this is a fact that I need to acknowledge.

I slowly nod.

“But it’s okay if Lola is her daughter. I want—I need —to believe that a strong, brave woman will walk beside Lola while she navigates some tough years ahead. And I believe Maren is that person. I see the way she looks at her.”

I smile. “Maren fell in love with Lola before she fell in love with me.”

Tia doesn’t laugh, but her lips quirk into a grin.

“Pa said I can come visit anytime I want to,” Lola says, skipping toward the porch.

She’s free, and it’s beautiful.

“I insist on it,” Tia replies, giving Lola a big hug. “And we’ll be back to visit. Lots of visits.”

Amos rests a hand on my shoulder and gives me the everything-is-good smile.

“I can’t ...” I press my lips together for a few seconds and swallow past the emotion. There have been so many times over the past nine or so months that I’ve wanted to lose it with them. The guilt and feeling like a failure as a husband and father have created an unhinged version of myself I barely recognized at times. But it doesn’t change the love they’ve given to Lola and to me by being here. I clear my throat. “I can’t find the right words to thank you for putting your life on pause to help us through this.”

“We didn’t pause anything. Being with our granddaughter will always be a gift. And as much as it saddens us to leave, we know that you need time to write your next chapter. And you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Tia reaches for my face and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good dad, Ozzy,” she whispers in my ear. “And a good man.”

Fuck. Not her. Tia is not allowed to make me cry. So I turn. “Let me give the house one more quick check to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.”

I should have done more to help my father deal with his drinking problem. Brynn should be alive. Sometimes, life feels like nothing more than a repetition of would’ves, could’ves, and should’ves.

Instead of dwelling on everything I cannot change, I focus on today. Tia and Amos are leaving us for Florida.

And as soon as they pull out of the driveway, Maren will be here to take me to reclaim my Land Rover from Diego.

The shock on Diego’s face is priceless when we pull into his driveway with Lola in the center back seat of Maren’s RAV. She’s still not relaxed like a limp noodle, but she’s improving. And music helps distract her. Today, we’re listening to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story,” which she’s been requesting a lot over the past few days. And every time I peek in the rearview mirror, she smirks and makes a laughable, although adorable, attempt at winking, especially during the “marry me” part of the lyrics.

She’s anything but subtle.

Diego saunters toward us from the garage, wiping his hands on a rag. He has a blue Dodge Challenger on his lift.

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” he asks as we step out of the vehicle.

With a shit-eating grin, I nod. “Diego, this is Maren.”

“It’s great to meet you finally.” He holds up his palms. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little greasy. I’ve heard so much about you.” Diego gives me a look, and I know what he’s specifically referencing because he’s a guy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too finally,” she says.

“Is Kai inside?” Lola asks without hesitation, skipping straight toward the house.

“She is. Go on in,” Diego says. “Cheyenne’s at the store. She’ll be so disappointed she missed you.”

I shrug. “We’ll be back. I’m just here to get my vehicle.”

Diego’s face nearly splits in half as he smiles. “I’m so fucking happy for you, man.” He shifts his gaze to Maren and clears his throat. “Sorry. I’m so very happy for you.”

She chuckles. “It’s fine. I’m really fucking happy for him too.”

Diego winks. “I like her, Oz. She’s a keeper.” He pivots.

I take Maren’s hand, and we follow him into the garage, where he nabs my keys from a hook inside a cabinet.

“I’m going to miss Debbie,” he says, handing me the keys.

“Debbie?” Maren narrows her eyes.

“Diego named my Land Rover Defender Debbie,” I say, leading her behind the garage to Debbie .

“This is your vehicle?” Maren asks with a shocked expression. “It’s ...”

I offer her multiple choices. “A classic? Beautiful? Magnificent?”

She mumbles with a nervous laugh and a tiny headshake, “Unexpected.”

“All the best things in life are.” I kiss her forehead, which makes her blush before I open the front passenger door for her. “Tell Lola I’m leaving without her if she doesn’t get her buns out here.”

Diego laughs, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost noon. I’m going to take a break for lunch. I’ll make Lola something too. Why don’t you take the afternoon for yourselves? It’s a gorgeous day for a Sunday drive.”

“She won’t even know I’m gone,” I say, shutting Maren’s door and making my way to the other side. “I owe you one. Hell, I probably owe you a million.”

Diego tucks his thumbs in the back pockets of his dirty jeans. “Oz?”

I start to open my door. “Yeah?”

His usual smart-ass expression vanishes, replaced with a sincere smile that guys rarely give to each other. “I’m happy for you.”

I nod several times. “Thanks.”

“A Sunday drive?” Maren says when I climb into my Rover.

I slip on my sunglasses. “Nothing beats a Sunday drive,” I say as Debbie starts right up. “My parents used to take Sunday drives before my mom lost most of her sight and my dad traded the great outdoors for a barstool. I remember my mom rolling down the window, tipping her head back, eyes closed, and smiling as the wind hit her face and played in her hair.” I pull out of the driveway.

“Let’s pick up your mom.”

I glance at Maren. “Seriously?”

She shrugs. “I haven’t met her. She doesn’t have to see well to feel the breeze on her face and hair.”

“You want to meet my mom today? Now?”

“You said it: one day at a time. I want to meet your mom and tell her how in love I am with her son and how much I adore her granddaughter beyond words. Then I want to meet your sister Jenny and her husband. And we should take Lola to a tearoom in London for her birthday. I might even know a rich guy with a jet who’d happily loan it to us.”

I focus on the vibration beneath me and the hum of the wind and tires. But I don’t smile. “I feel like you’re trying to outwoo me again. So impatient.”

She bites her bottom lip when I shoot her a sidelong glance.

“For the next few hours, you’re mine. All mine. I know a place where we can park and get naked in the back seat. Then I’ll show you my secret spot to pick huckleberries. And then we’ll pick up my mom and Lola for dinner. After that, we’ll take a sunset drive before returning my mom to her place. Jenny’s pregnant and due to have her first child in a few months, so we’ll see her after the baby arrives. And as for London, well, you’ve left me speechless on that one.”

Maren sighs. “I’m not done with physical therapy, but we can still get naked. Huckleberries sound pretty serious. I think they trump wildflowers.” She narrows her eyes. “And when are you and Lola moving in with me?”

I shrug. “I think it will happen when you marry me.”

She freezes. I don’t turn my head, but through the corner of my eye, I can see her holding stone still. I take great pride in her reaction.

“You, uh, you’re ...” She clears her throat. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“No.” I pull off the road into a parking area at a trailhead. “I’m not asking you to marry me.” I put my Rover in park , unbuckle, and angle my body to face hers. “But you are stealing all the moments. Saying I love you first. Asking me to move in with you. Suggesting you meet my mom and sister. London for Lola’s birthday. You got the cat my daughter wanted. And you were the one to ride with her in a car for the first time in over two years.”

Maren deflates with a tiny wince.

“So I’m calling dibs on this. Okay? Dibs on proposing. I’m not proposing today. It’s not on tomorrow’s agenda either. But I will be the one to propose. You have to give me something. So, for once, I need you to sit back, let me do the wooing, and let me decide when the epic moment will happen. Are you capable of that?”

Still, she keeps her gaze out the front window while slowly nodding and rolling her lips between her teeth. It does little to hide her amusement. So either she’s silently mocking me or suppressing her excitement.

She grips the fixed door handle, squeezing it so tightly her knuckles are white. “We’re getting married,” she whispers, but it’s tight, like air squeezing out of an innertube, shaking her whole body.

I pull a Lola and roll my eyes. “It’s possible. Maybe. Someday. One never knows.”

“Ozzy—”

“Shut up. Just shut up.” I grin while grabbing her face and kissing her.