Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
RACHEL
The female firefighter—she introduced herself as Suzanne, and she was perfectly lovely, even shook my hand—told me to inform our insurance provider what happened right away.
She even had a case number for me to refer to, and I carefully tapped it out in my notes app on my phone, which I was smart enough to shove into the pocket of my robe before I fled the house in a panic.
And then proceeded to run back into the house like a complete idiot.
What was I thinking? I’m not usually so .
. . irrational, but maybe I am? It was scary, thinking about losing everything, especially that bag.
My grandmother purchased that bag originally.
It’s like a family heirloom, not that anyone would understand that.
They all think I’m running into a burning building to save a stupid purse, and I suppose I don’t blame them for thinking I’m unpredictable.
That sounds nicer than dumb.
While I didn’t love how that grumpy firefighter, captain, whatever you want to call him, threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing and clamped his gloved hand on my ass like he had every right to, I do appreciate that he saved me.
I mean, I would’ve survived. I’m not that stupid. But he didn’t even take care of me with the cough. He seemed to forget all about it, which wasn’t very heroic of him, if you ask me.
“I think you’re going to be okay,” Suzanne tells me once she’s pressed the stethoscope to my chest and in various spots on my back. “You probably just inhaled a little too much smoke.”
“Right. When I ran back into the house. Not the smartest move,” I murmur, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, pleased to see it doesn’t send me into another coughing fit.
“See? Better already.” Suzanne laughs, putting the stethoscope into a first aid kit and shutting the lid. Thankfully she doesn’t acknowledge my comment. “Our crew is almost done mopping up.”
I watch them enter and exit the house, nibbling on my lower lip. Feeling anxious about calling my father once again and telling him about the condition of the house. He’s going to be furious, and he has every right to be. I still can’t believe this happened.
“Will I be able to go back inside and get my things?” My voice is soft, my hopes pretty dismal. I know what she’s going to say before she even answers.
“I’m afraid not. It’s still going to be a mess inside, and I don’t know how much of your things will be salvageable.” Suzanne’s voice is gentle. Kind. Unlike the captain’s mostly irritated tone.
Yes, that’s what Suzanne called him. Their captain. He was driving the fire truck when it pulled into the drive, so I assume he’s in charge.
He’s awful. Handsome but awful. My gaze keeps going to where he’s standing by the second fire truck that’s still here. I can hear him talking, but no one else is around him. Is he talking to himself?
Maybe, but I can’t be bothered with that at the moment.
Despite his shitty attitude, he is definitely .
. . attractive. He’s tall and broad, with dark hair that’s a little long on top but neatly trimmed on the sides.
Dark-brown eyes. A mustache, which I never found appealing before, but I can reluctantly admit it looks good on him.
He has magnificent bone structure, if I’m being honest, with a jaw and chin that could cut glass. Too bad he’s also incredibly rude.
“Is he in charge of everyone?” I incline my head in his direction.
“Yeah. Well, he’s in charge of our crew that rides on his engine. He’s not as mean as he seems, though,” Suzanne says, amusement tingeing her voice, along with a hint of affection. As if she actually likes the man. “He’s just having an off day.”
He is pleasant to look at but not to deal with. Still can’t believe I called him out for judging me, but it was obvious. He was most definitely judging me. I suppose I deserve it for starting a fire because of my careless actions, but it’s not like I meant to.
“He wasn’t . . . mean.” I don’t want to agree with her because I’ll look like I’m complaining.
“Rude then? With asshole-ish tendencies?” Suzanne asks.
I jerk my head in her direction, surprised she’d call her captain an asshole. My response is hesitant. “Somewhat.”
She laughs, slapping her leg. “I apologize for his behavior. When he’s under stress, sometimes he’s a little . . . snappy.”
Hmm, that’s one way to put it.
I’m about to ask another question about her captain when the rest of the fire crew exit the house, bringing with them the various equipment they used to clean the interior.
They start packing everything up, putting it all back in order on the engine while I stand here helplessly, feeling like an imbecile in my thin silk robe.
How am I supposed to handle this? Who should I call? I’m terrified to ask my father because he’s been annoyed with me and what he calls my reckless behavior for a while.
“When are you going to grow up?”
He asked me that after I found out about Edmund’s new “lady love” (what the British newspaper that broke the story called her) and I was crying my eyes out in bed, where I’d been for at least twenty-four hours.
A woman is allowed to mourn her relationship when she finds out with the rest of the world that her boyfriend is cheating on her, right?
Not according to my father. He told me I needed to get over it and get back on my feet.
I don’t think he knows what to do with me most of the time.
I’m flighty and immature. Spoiled and ridiculous.
The problem is he made me that way. My parents have indulged my every whim from the moment I was born.
I’m their only child and much wanted since it took them years to conceive.
Now, it feels like he thinks I’m ridiculous most of the time. I want to be able to handle this situation on my own, but I don’t know how. Which makes me feel helpless.
Incompetent.
“Miss Henderson?”
I turn at the sound of Suzanne’s voice, noting her sympathetic expression. “Please, call me Rachel.”
“Okay. Rachel.” She clears her throat and pastes a sunny smile on her face. “Like I mentioned to you earlier, you’re not going to be able to stay here tonight.”
I frown, not disbelieving her but . . . “Are you sure?”
“The smoke damage is pretty extensive. You’d be surprised by how far it travels.
” Her smile fades a little. “You need to find somewhere else to go for the next few nights. And get in contact with your insurance company ASAP. Who knows how long it’ll take to get someone out here to inspect the damage and then clean everything up. ”
Panic claws at my insides, and I try to keep my expression neutral. I can’t even begin to comprehend how to handle this situation. “Right. Okay. So you’re saying it’s too smoky inside? And that’s why I can’t stay here?”
“Definitely on the upper levels. Your bedroom and bathroom are covered in a thick layer of ash from the smoke.” Suzanne tilts her head to the side, contemplating me.
“The furniture, the walls, everything is covered. There’s a thinner layer on the first level, so it’s not as bad, but .
. . it’s all pretty bad. And then there’s the smell. ”
“The smell?” I wrinkle my nose. So does Suzanne. “Like smoke?”
Suzanne nods. “It’s pretty strong. I wouldn’t go in there either. We’re not sure if there’s any structural damage, and you don’t want to get hurt, you know?”
“I see.” I tap my index finger against my lips, my mind racing.
If I leave this place and go back home, it’ll take me at least an hour to get to the closest regional airport.
Plus, I’ll need to stop off somewhere and buy a change of clothes.
I’m sure I look like a wreck, and I’m in a robe, for the love of God.
I can’t board a plane like this. I’m lucky I have my UGG slides on my feet.
“Got any friends around here to stay with for a while?” Suzanne asks.
I don’t have a single friend in the area because I know no one. And if I’m being real with myself, I don’t want to go back home. I got here only a couple of days ago. I planned on staying at this house for the rest of the summer. “Not particularly. I’m not from the area.”
“That’s what I thought. Well, hopefully you can find a hotel room.” The rest of her crew is climbing into the engine, and the captain turns on the ignition, a clear indication that he’s ready to leave. “Good luck!”
I wave at Suzanne, and she turns on her heel, jogging back over to the engine and climbing into the passenger seat.
Right next to her handsome captain. I watch as he carefully backs the massive truck up and somehow manages a three-point turn that has him headed back down the narrow driveway.
The red engine is gone in seconds, leaving me painfully alone.
Taking a deep breath, I decide to head into the house, despite Suzanne’s warning, and check on the damage. I’m sure Suzanne was exaggerating, right?
* * *
Suzanne definitely wasn’t exaggerating. The entire upstairs is covered in a thick layer of black soot. Like an evil fairy waved her magic wand and scattered black dust everywhere. It’s horrible and it most definitely stinks.
Sneaking into the walk-in closet, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see my open suitcase on the floor, all my clothes a mess within or scattered around it.
Thankfully, I had the closet door closed, and while I can still smell smoke—it permeates everything, God—my clothes are mostly unscathed.
I start piling everything back into the suitcase, all my dirty and clean clothes in a jumble, yanking out a dark-blue sundress for me to wear when I leave.