Chapter 12 #2
“Without you,” she said, “I couldn’t have gotten my groceries. Or I’d have had to take Andy out in the storm.”
“I hope you wouldn’t do that.”
“It’s happened before, once when he had an ear infection. I’d just left the pediatrician’s office and had to stop to get his prescription filled at the pharmacy. It was cold and windy, and when we came back out, it was storming. It was a miserable day, believe me.”
He frowned, closed the door with a quiet snick, and went to the driver’s side. Andy shifted when the engine started, but settled back to sleep, once they started moving. “I hate that you had to do that.”
“It wasn’t fun. Later, Cort told me I absolutely should have called him, which made no sense. Why should he run out in bad weather? The car seat was in my car, so it wasn’t like he could have driven us. One way or another, I had to take Andy out in the rain to get home.”
Yeah, that would be a problem. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Andy’s seat, which was different from Shayna’s, and decided he’d order one—just in case anything like that happened.
If all went well, he’d be here for months yet.
For each and every one of those days, he hoped to spend time with Pixie.
“Of course,” Pixie continued, “Marlow went out the next day and bought a car seat.”
Well, now, he didn’t mind having something in common with the indomitable Marlow.
A smile curved Pixie’s mouth. “Sometimes I think she loves Andy almost as much as I do.”
Almost, but not quite, because Brogan didn’t think anyone could love that boy more than Pixie did. “I’m glad you’ve had her and Cort.”
“I wish you’d had someone like them, too.”
He hadn’t really planned to talk about his brothers, but he found himself doing just that. For the next few minutes, he shared information about the men he’d called family.
“They all sound wonderful.”
That wasn’t a description Brogan would have used, but it fit. “They were the best of men.”
She sat quietly a moment, then asked, “When you were wounded …?”
His jaw clenched reflexively. In the next second, he forced himself to relax.
Pixie had shared so much with him, he wanted to return the favor.
“During an ambush, the four of us got separated from the others.” His heart started thumping hard, as it always did when he replayed those events.
He couldn’t share details, so he said simply, “We were hit with heavy artillery, pinned down.” His skin went hot, then alternately cold—until he felt Pixie’s small hand on him again.
She slid her fingertips beneath the sleeve of his shirt, over his biceps. “You must have been in awful pain.”
As if the weather agreed, the rain started in earnest again, this time with bold flashes of lightning and a rumble of thunder that stirred the kids awake.
He absolutely could not talk about this while driving in a storm, so he wrapped up the conversation. “The physical pain was nothing compared to seeing what had happened to the others.” For months, he’d wished that he had died, too.
But not now.
Now he was glad to be alive, to be here for Shayna—and to know Pixie and Andy. He was just about to tell her that, when he saw two vehicles off the road, one more mangled than the other.
Reading his expression, she said, “Brogan …”
He nodded ahead.
She looked forward and gasped. “Is that the same Buick that was at the grocery store?”
Seemed so, along with a Ford truck that had to be thirty years old. Brogan quickly pulled over, dreading what he might find. An image flashed in his mind of the elderly woman eyeing him over her glasses while playfully chiding him. “Call 911, and lock the doors, okay?”
“Brogan.” She grabbed his arm. “I see fire.”
The next flash of lightning brought a furious crack of thunder that rattled the SUV. “Make that call, babe.” As he rushed out into the rain, he heard Shayna wake with a wail. Again, he thanked God that he was with Pixie.
There might not be anything he could do, but at least he could try to help.
Shayna’s cries woke Andy, and before the phone call was answered, both kids were making a racket. Thankfully, the dispatcher who answered was rock steady and took the info as she rattled it off.
For once, her small size was an asset as she climbed over the center console to get in the back seat with the babies.
“Shh, shh, sweeties, it’s okay. Andy, I’m right here, honey.
” He reached for her, but she didn’t dare take either of them out of their car seats.
Brogan had pulled over in a safe spot, but if one wreck could happen, so could another.
To be safe, she even put on the center seat belt.
She kissed Andy’s head, gave him the edge of his blanket to hold, and found his cup of juice. “Here you go, sweetheart. Shush now, I’m here.”
His sniffles faded as he guzzled his juice.
She dug through Brogan’s diaper bag and found the insulated carrier that held one of Shayna’s bottles.
After shaking it, she put the nipple to Shayna’s mouth.
For a few seconds that didn’t work, and her continued cries made Pixie want to cry as well.
Finally, Shayna latched on, hiccupping around some sloppy sucking that sent formula down her chin.
While holding the bottle, Pixie managed to find a bib and tucked it around her neck. To be sure the infant was comfortable, she ran the fingers of her free hand around and under all the car seat straps. Nothing appeared to be pinching, and her diaper didn’t seem overly wet.
With both babies watching her, their noses red and their lashes spiked with tears, she finally worked up the nerve to look at the wreck.
The back side door of the Buick stood open; and a moment later, Brogan awkwardly emerged …
helping out the older woman. She was favoring her right arm and had a cut on her forehead.
It was like déjà vu, seeing him in hero mode again. Rain lashed them both, though Brogan did his best to shield the woman. The scant traffic had mostly come to a complete standstill. One woman stepped out of her van, gesturing them forward as she slid open the side door. Brogan led the woman there.
Flames surged at the front of the truck, spurring Brogan to leave her in the care of the passerby as he rushed back.
Never in Pixie’s life had she been so worried. In so many movies, she’d seen cars explode, but, thank God, Cort had told her that wasn’t something that happened—at least not very often. But the flames were growing higher despite the downpour. Gray smoke billowed out around the hood.
Andy sniffled loudly. “Mam.”
His quavering voice nearly did her in. “I’m right here, sweetheart. Mam is here. It’s just rain. Look out your window at all the rain.”
He didn’t. His gaze remained on her face, and she knew he was picking up on her fear. She forced a smile, then leaned down to kiss his forehead, his nose, and his chin. “Did you have a good nap?”
“Fend?”
“Brogan will be right back, I promise.” But what if he wasn’t? She drew her own shaky breath, then made a decision and called Marlow. It was a very short conversation, because Pixie’s explanation was limited with little ears listening in. Thankfully, Marlow understood what she didn’t say.
“I don’t think we’ll need you, but I wanted you to know.”
Marlow said, “And you wanted someone to talk to. I get it. Cort is already on his way.”
Relieved, Pixie briefly closed her eyes. “Thank you.”
When Andy asked again, with tears in his voice, “Fend?” Marlow heard him.
“Put it on speaker and I’ll talk to him.”
“Okay, Low,” she teased, using Andy’s name for her, so grateful to have a friend right now.
Andy was thrilled to talk to Marlow, and she soon had him giggling, while Pixie stroked Shayna’s hair and kept watch on the scene before her.
The lightning worried her, illuminating the area like a flash spotlight.
She saw Brogan trying to get into the truck, but due to the way the front end had bent—or maybe because of the age of the truck—neither door would open.
To Pixie’s fretful gaze, he looked worried as he jogged to the side of the road, selected a rock, and returned to break the window.
Brogan reached through the window, then helped a young man crawl out through the opening.
He looked in worse shape than the older woman.
The guy didn’t budge when Brogan tried to urge him away from the burning truck.
Slumped against Brogan, he coughed and talked, pointing at the truck.
When Brogan gave a nod, Pixie sat forward.
What now?
She had her answer a second later as a young dog stuck its head out the window. His ears were back with fear. For some reason, that choked her up even more.
Brogan cautiously stroked the dog’s head; then, when the young man managed to stand on his own, Brogan reached in and lifted out the dog. He held it close, shielding it from the rain and talking softly.
It was official. Pixie was 100 percent, completely, genuinely, desperately, in love. No matter what happened next, her heart would never be the same.
A fire engine roared onto the scene, making Andy’s conversation impossible. Pixie reclaimed the phone, and with a promise to update Marlow soon, she ended the call. Both Andy and Shayna stared in fascination out the windows at the flashing lights that reflected off every wet surface.
The fire engine might have pulled up alongside the wreck, but other cars had stopped and blocked the way. On the positive side, they helped to shield Brogan from being hit by any other skidding vehicles.
Police were now on the scene, too, including the officer who had shown up when Benny almost drowned. Other men took over with the two injured parties, and someone who appeared to know the young man showed up, hugged him, and took the dog from Brogan.
Wearily, Brogan started back toward Pixie.
Until the older woman hailed him.