Chapter 31
I’m On Fire
Cole
I throw the covers off, yank on jeans, rough denim scraping my thighs, grab a T-shirt from the floor, tug it over my head, shove my feet into boots. No socks. No time. I’m out the door, running down the steps, the cold night air hitting me like a slap, carrying more smoke, more panic.
Outside it’s chaos. Ranch hands yelling, flashlights swinging wild, shadows jumping across the yard. Maggie’s screaming orders, Luke hauling hoses, Dad standing frozen on the porch, face pale in the firelight.
“Dad, just stay here!” I yell back at him.
Oh my god, the horse stalls. The horses.
God almighty. There looks to be a small fire in the back of the barn, an orange glow flickering through the open doors, smoke pouring thick and black, but it’s growing fast, licking up the old wood like it’s starving.
“Grab the hoses!” I scream at the ranch hands standing there looking clueless, frozen like deer in headlights.
I’m running down the hill, passing the guest house, when I see Layla out of the corner of my eye, coming to help, tugging on her boots, hair wild, T-shirt and shorts, eyes wide with fear and determination.
“Get your ass back inside!” I yell at her, voice raw, terrified she’ll get hurt.
“No. I’m helping,” she says with an attitude, voice sharp, already moving past me.
“Damnit Layla!” I scream, but she takes off running, following Maggie toward the barn.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she throws over her shoulder, braid swinging, boots stomping the gravel.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she’s only going to get in the way or get herself hurt.
Why can’t she listen to me for once instead of being so stubborn?
My chest is tight, lungs burning from smoke and fear.
Abby would’ve never done this, never run toward danger, never risked herself for animals that weren’t hers.
But Layla… She acts like this is her home.
Like those horses are hers. Like this family is hers.
“Be careful and stay back!” I yell at her, voice cracking, desperate.
“It must’ve been faulty wiring from the extension, maybe an overload,” Mike says to me, hauling a hose, face streaked with soot.
“Yeah, probably. Damn it,” I mutter, grabbing another line, water hissing as it hits flames.
“We are trying our best to get it under control and the fire department should be here in a minute,” he adds.
I nod, barely hearing him. But the only thing I’m focused on is Layla going into the barn with Maggie. Layla going into a barn that is on fire. Smoke pouring thick now, orange glow brighter, wood crackling loud.
“We’re getting the horses out,” Maggie yells.
“It’s not safe!” I yell back, but neither one of them even pays the slightest bit of attention to me.
I’m scared to death, heart slamming, hands shaking on the hose, but honestly, Abby would’ve never done anything like this. Put herself in danger to help. Go into a barn to help horses who were in danger. She would never. But Layla. She’s different. She’s not Abby.
Maggie whistles, sharp, piercing and horses start galloping out, shadows against the firelight. Maggie is on the back of Buttercup, reins tight, face soot-streaked.
“Where’s Layla?” I yell.
“She’s still in there. Shadow’s stall door is stuck!” she yells from horseback.
I drop the hose, water spraying wild and run inside.
The heat hits like a wall, thick, suffocating, smoke so dense I can barely open my eyes.
Flames lick the back wall, hay bales burning fast, crackling loud.
I see Layla climbing over the stall door and inside the stall with Shadow, determined and soot already on her cheeks, hair falling from her braid.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell at her, voice hoarse from smoke.
I run over to the latch, it’s stuck, swollen from heat. I have no choice but to break it. I should’ve fixed it weeks ago. No time now. I grab the axe, handle warm, heavy, swing as hard as I can.
“Just hold on, baby,” I scream, voice cracking. I’ve never called her that. Not out loud. Not like this.
“I’m going to get you out of there.”
I slam the axe again, metal ringing, wood splintering. Almost. One more time. It’s open. Out comes Shadow, flying by me, Layla on his back, bareback, holding onto his mane, legs clamped tight around his sides.
I run behind them, smoke burning my lungs, eyes stinging, eventually hopping on the closest horse. Shadow is not stopping, he’s just running. Horses tend to do that when they’re scared. But Layla is on him and I have to make sure she is safe.
Me and my horse take off behind them, hooves pounding dirt, wind whipping past, heart in my throat. I have a feeling I know where they went.
When I get to the creek, Layla is down off Shadow, hugging his face, whispering to him, soot covering her cheeks, arms scratched up, hair wild. Shadow’s sides heaving, eyes wide, but calming under her touch.
My horse stops fast, I jump off, boots hitting soft earth, run up to her. Hug her, hard, holding her shoulders, making sure she’s okay. Checking any and everywhere—hands running over her arms, her back, her face—looking for burns, cuts, anything.
“You could’ve gotten hurt. What were you thinking?” I ask, voice shaking, rough.
“I’m fine, Cole,” she says, looking up at me, soot-streaked, eyes bright, voice steady.
“You can’t risk your life for a horse,” I blurt—anger and fear mixing, chest tight.
“He’s not just a horse,” she spits back, fierce, protective.
I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair, pulling hard, at how stubborn and crazy this woman makes me. And then I realized. That was the most brave thing I have ever seen a woman do, for something that wasn’t even hers. She ran into fire. For Shadow. For this place. For us.
I cup her face in my hands, her chubby cheeks squishing together, soft under my palms, thumbs brushing away soot and tears.
“That was brave,” I say softly, looking her in the eyes. “You were brave.”
She starts crying—quiet, shoulders shaking—and I just want to hold her.
I wrap my arms around her tight, my chin resting on the top of her head, her body fitting against mine like it was made to be there.
I push her hair out of her face, strands damp with sweat and smoke and tilt her chin up to me and kiss her passionately, deep, desperate, tasting salt and soot and her.
My hands slide into her hair, gripping, holding her like I’ll never let go.
“Let’s go check on the others,” I say to her, voice hoarse, helping her back onto Shadow. She takes off, leaving me in the dust. She’s not such a city girl anymore.