CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“S ugar, relax. I’m telling you, he’s probably wrapped up with reports,” Daisy said from her perch on the sofa. Her legs were tucked under her, one hand holding a glass of wine.
One of the many things Whitney loved about staying with Daisy was their new habit of wine nights. They found a Hallmark movie to watch and then cracked open a bottle of wine. Tonight’s movie happened to be about firefighters in a small town, causing Whitney to think about Trevor a little more than usual.
“I know, but I thought we were getting ice cream,” she said, placing her now empty glass on the end table. She’d taken the armchair, a favorite spot of Gus’s. The basset hound sat at her feet, snoring along with the movie. It was more than her sweet tooth preoccupying Whitney, it was her desire to see Trevor, to continue their conversation and get back on track.
Daisy checked her watch and frowned. “Actually, it is pretty late. Wasn’t he getting off at eight o’clock?”
“I thought so,” Whitney replied, wishing the tension at her neck would stop. She wasn’t sure why, but she was on edge. Her earlier texts went unanswered, which felt like more than being bogged down with paperwork.
“It’s the life of a fireman’s wife,” Daisy said, topping off her glass before shaking the bottle in Whitney’s direction. Knowing more alcohol was the last thing she needed, Whitney shook away the offer.
This was hardly the first time Daisy mentioned marriage to her son, but Whitney was still embarrassed. “Daisy,” she chastised, “your son and I are barely dating. Let’s focus those wedding bells where they belong,” she said, twirling her hand in the air before pointing at Daisy. “Solely on you, ma’am. Don’t think I don’t see how you light up when talking about Paul.”
Daisy snorted. “I’m not surprised you can see that, considering the same expression is plastered on your lovely face every day since you arrived in Pinegrove.”
Whitney was going to come up with a stellar reply when the doorbell rang. Knowing both Trevor and Paul would walk in, Daisy and Whitney sprang to their feet. Whether sensing what was about to happen or just excited over a visitor, Gus ran to the door and woofed like the world was ending.
“Kim?” Whitney asked, stepping back and nearly tripping over Gus while he scampered around them, barking like a lunatic.
“You haven’t heard?” Kim asked, her eyes darting between the two women.
Daisy cursed under her breath before covering her mouth. “Is it Trevor? Paul?”
Kim shook her head, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I was closing the shop when I saw a group of people on Main Street looking at something online about a warehouse fire. Turns out, it’s a five-alarm fire and all hands on deck. I heard they called in medics from Peach Springs. I’m headed that way now and wanted to see if you ladies want a ride.”
Daisy was already rushing outside, her purse dangling from her elbow, bare feet slapping on the sidewalk. “I’ll grab her shoes,” Whitney said, holding up a finger as she darted around the living room. She quickly filled Gus’s water bowl, rubbed his head, and dashed out the door. By the time she handed Daisy her shoes, Kim was speeding through the neighborhood.
“They’re going to be okay; they’re going to be okay ...” Daisy chanted to herself in the passenger’s seat.
Whitney’s blood pressure skyrocketed as she thought about Trevor in danger. They still had so much to say to each other. Poor Daisy was a mess, having both her son and partner in danger.
How does she do it? Whitney marveled, hanging on for dear life as Kim took a turn too fast.
“Honey, take deep breaths, okay?” Kim ordered her friend. “Not only are Paul and Trevor terrific firefighters, but they’re professionals. They know what to do.”
“That’s right,” Whitney added, although her voice lacked the conviction. “They’ll be safe.” She crossed all her fingers and rested her shaking hands on her lap. Kim blew past three stop signs in as many minutes, but thankfully no one was on the back roads.
“Where are we going?” Daisy asked when she’d collected herself.
Kim clicked her turn signal and turned into a corporate park with dozens of non-descript buildings flanking the street. “Just there,” she said, pointing out the windshield. Although her directions weren’t needed.
Smoke plumed into the air at the end of the road, a three-story structure burned like there weren’t multiple fire trucks trying to put out the blaze. Even in the car, the bitter tang of smoke coated Whitney’s mouth. She coughed to clear her throat, but it was no use. The fire was everywhere, and her nerves combusted the closer Kim’s car brought them.
Unable to get too close, Kim pulled in behind another group of onlookers. Early night had fallen, but there was still enough light to see the full damage. Nearly a dozen fire trucks were parked, countless firefighters rushing around the scene shouting out orders and running lengths of hose.
“Do you see Engine 33?” Daisy asked, stumbling from the car. Kim rushed to her side and looped an arm around her waist, holding her in place.
“I don’t, but let’s see if we can get closer.”
Whitney took her place on Daisy’s other side as the trio marched to the barricade. A police officer Kim recognized waved people back. “Folks, please keep your distance,” he ordered, although no one budged.
“Wait here,” Kim said, linking Daisy’s trembling arm through Whitney’s. “That’s Greg, Buster’s friend. He’ll give me answers, or I’ll box his ears.” She nodded to them and strode off in the direction of information.
“Oh, Whitney.” Daisy sighed. “What a nightmare.”
“Shhh, this will all be okay. Kim’s right, they’re all professionals.” As she uttered those words, a chunk of the roof collapsed into the blaze, sending a fresh burst of flames from the building. Heat singed Whitney’s face, her eyes clouding over with smoke and ash. If the fire had this effect on her from a distance, she shuddered to think of what Trevor was facing.
“Oh, Lord.” Daisy gasped, knees giving out. Whitney tugged her up, practically dragging the older woman to the curb for a seat. “This is bad, very bad.”
Maybe it was a bad idea for them to be here? What good could it do for a mother and partner to watch the blaze live? Whitney knew what she was feeling, and it paled in comparison to Daisy’s experience. As Whitney was about to suggest they head home, Kim jogged over to them.
“Greg said they’ve called in two other stations to help. As far as he knows, everyone is out of the building, but they haven’t had radio contact with all engines. It’s possible some folks are still inside.”
“Should we stay?” Whitney whispered, motioning to Daisy’s catatonic state. Her eyes were unfocused, lips pressed in a firm line.
Kim shrugged. “That’s up to you two. I can’t see it helping or hurting either way.” Crouching down, Kim met Daisy’s eyes. “Honey, do you want to go home and wait for news?”
Daisy didn’t respond, simply staring into the scene with unblinking eyes. “Trevor, Paul.” Her voice hitched, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
Whitney rummaged in her purse and retrieved a ball of tissues. She wasn’t certain they weren’t used, but now wasn’t the time for concern over germs. “Daisy,” she cooed, dabbing at her friend’s cheeks. “Do you want to sit in the car at least?”
Daisy’s head shook the slightest bit. “Stay here,” she whispered, and Whitney wasn’t going to argue.
“I have some water bottles in the trunk. I’ll go get them,” Kim offered, stepping back to give the pair their privacy.
Whitney exhaled, collapsing on the pavement. “Do you know what we used to do as kids when we were worried?” she asked, understanding Daisy wouldn’t respond. If Daisy required quiet in times of stress, Whitney needed a distraction.
“My momma asked us to tell her about a book we read that we really loved. If you don’t mind, I’m going to tell you all about that book you let me borrow. The one with the sea captain?” She playfully nudged Daisy, but the other woman was catatonic.
Whitney licked her lips, frowning when she tasted soot. “Well, the story starts with a woman on the run from an arranged marriage. Daisy, when I say she was a runaway bride, I mean she was running. ” Whitney regaled with details of the story, glossing over parts that didn’t seem entertaining.
The last time she remembered doing this was with Winnie after their grandfather had passed away. She’d recently read the Twilight series and bored Winnie to death with details of sparkling vampires, long-haired werewolves, and the scenery of the Pacific Northwest. At the time Winnie rolled her eyes and shushed her, but by the time they’d left the hospital, her sister had ordered the entire series from their local library.
“And,” Whitney continued, “you should read the sex scenes. I thought I would get motion sickness reading about all these waves and ship voyages, but, oh boy, the author certainly distracted from the open seas.”
Daisy’s head tipped slightly, her eyes meeting Whitney’s. “Is that the one where they make love in the galley kitchen?”
“Yes, ma’am, and practically ruin dinner for the whole crew.” Both women chuckled at that, the tension of the moment broken by laughter.
“Well, I don’t know what you’re laughing about, but it’s good to see.” Kim handed each woman a water bottle.
Daisy took the proffered bottle and chugged it like she hadn’t had water in years. “Thanks, sugar. We were discussing our book club book.” She took Whitney’s hand and squeezed.
“Oh, did you get to the hot kitchen sex scene?” Kim asked, eyes dancing with mischief.
“Yes, we did, and I was telling Daisy how ...” But Whitney’s literary recap had to wait. Javi sprinted toward them, helmet in hand and an anxious expression on his handsome face.
“Ms. Daisy, Whitney!”
“Javier!” Daisy yelled, flapping her hands overhead and using his given name.
Javi caught up to them, panting like he’d run a mile ... or ran from a burning warehouse. “They’re out,” he bent over, resting his hands on his knees. “Chief and Trevor are out. They’re getting checked out for smoke inhalation.”
Daisy’s hand flew to her heart, knees buckling, she leaned against Whitney for support. “Thank the Lord,” she said, shoulders heaving as she caught her breath.
“Where are they?” Whitney asked, tears prickling her eyes. The reality that they were okay hadn’t sunk in, and she wasn’t sure when it would. The shock provided a quicksand sensation muffling everything around her. She wanted to run to Trevor, pull him close and tell him it would be all right.
Javi pushed himself to standing, shoulders slumping with fatigue and adrenaline. “They’re waiting for the medics to arrive. Smithy was taken first.” Javi’s voice cracked at the mention of his friend, and Daisy went into action.
Springing free from Whitney’s hold, she pulled Javi to her chest, cradling his head. “He’ll be okay. Malcolm is a strong man.” Although Whitney barely knew the man, it was clear he was a close with the family. Daisy’s relief clouded over into worry as she stroked Javi’s sweaty hair.
“I should have been there for him,” Javi sobbed.
“You were, Javi. You were. He’s on his way to get help. Now catch your breath so we can get you checked out.” The sole focus of helping someone pulled Daisy from her funk—she was officially a momma bear on a mission. “Do you want some water?”
Javi nodded dumbly, and Kim pressed one of their forgotten bottles into his hand. Whitney stood helplessly watching everyone recover from the lunacy of the moment. While Kim and Daisy knew people, she still felt like an outsider. There was no way for her to understand the years of connection, of love on display in that moment.
Reflecting back to her life in Savannah, she couldn’t think of anyone—save her sister—who would comfort and nurture her in a time of need. Hell, she’d had her time of need when Baxter left, and the few friends she had offered nothing more than a handful of awkward platitudes over text. When work took Winnie away, freaking Xena was the only one there to watch her eat peanut cups. That notion was even more depressing ...
Just as Whitney spun herself into a tizzy, her cell phone rang in her purse. Dumbly, she wondered if Trevor was trying to call her. With shaking hands, she answered. “Hello?” A sob burst through the line, nearly knocking Whitney to the ground again. “Win?”
“Whit, can you hear me?” Winnie’s muffled voice was all wrong. Gone was her sure, confident sister, replaced with a weeping shell of herself. “I...” She hiccupped, and Whitney heard her blow her nose.
Without thinking, she stepped away from the crowd on boneless legs. “What is going on? Start at the beginning.”
“It all fell apart,” Winnie sobbed, sniffling so loudly Whitney had to pull the phone back.
“Win, you need to take a deep breath, because I can’t understand you. What fell apart?” Whitney clutched the phone in her right hand, her left tugging on the end of her ponytail. The world didn’t make sense if Winnie was upset, and right now Whitney needed her poised big sister.
“Everything, the merger was a total bust. The managing partners are so angry, and they’re blaming me, because I ...” She paused her rant to cough and blow her nose, and Whitney’s heart broke. Her career, and this merger project in particular, had taken her focus for nearly two years. While Whitney had been falling in love with Baxter, Winnie had been pulling fifteen-hour days at the firm.
“Honey, they aren’t blaming you. You’ve been working yourself stupid. I’ve seen it first-hand.”
Winnie scoffed. “I had been, except for recently.” Her tone had gone from distraught to self-loathing, and Whitney wasn’t sure which she liked least.
“What happened? You’ve been on the road, all you’ve been doing is work.”
“No, Whit, I haven’t.” The other line was silent, and Whitney waited out her sister. “I’ve been distracted, since meeting Mari.”
Whitney stalked to Kim’s car, leaning against the trunk. Despite the cooling temperatures, her skin burned with the discomfort of the situation, eyes watering from the smoke. “Okay, that’s normal when you meet someone new.”
“Not for me!” Winnie shrieked into the phone. “I never put my heart before my career, and look what it got me! The managing partners are talking about making an example out of the team members who didn’t follow through. I could lose my chance at being a full partner because I went on a couple dates.” She muttered some choice profanities. “I can’t believe I did this. It’s so unlike me.”
Whitney never understood the cut-throat world of the legal professional, but she knew her sister. When their peers were starting families and getting married, Winnie was pulling all-nighters and making deals. “You’re entitled to a personal life,” she urged, hoping in time her sister could see reason. Her head dipped, Whitney didn’t hear Daisy’s footsteps approaching until the older woman was at her side. She tentatively reached out and tapped her shoulder, causing Whitney to yelp and nearly drop her phone. “Oh my Lord, you scared me,” Whitney gasped, clutching her hand to her chest.
“I’m sorry, sugar,” Daisy apologized while Winnie asked, “Who are you talking to?”
Whitney held up a finger to Daisy and mouthed an apology. “I’m out with Daisy and Kim, there was a fire.”
Winnie didn’t reply with the concern and compassion Whitney expected, and it grated on her.
“Oh, okay.”
She waited, hoping her sister would ask about Trevor, ask why she was at the scene of a fire. Instead she got the last response she anticipated.
“Can you please come home?” Winnie’s voice was small, as meek as when she was a girl.
Whitney’s heart clenched. “What? Now?”
“I mean, I’ll be back at the apartment tomorrow. I’m still at the hotel. I need you, Whit. I can’t go back home and deal with this alone.”
Home. That word used to mean Savannah, but not since she’d arrived in Pinegrove. Home was in Trevor’s arms, sharing a meal and laughing while picking out mundane items at the drugstore. Home was in Daisy’s warm kitchen, gushing over their latest romance novel. Home was also her job at Kim’s Creations, where Whitney felt the first pull to come to work since college. Savannah was no longer home, despite her closest family living there.
“Win, listen. Take the night to have a drink and cry it out in the hotel. I can’t get back to Savannah right now. There’s too much going on. Give me a couple days, and I’ll ...” Explanation dying on her lips, Whitney wasn’t ready to commit to anything or anyone.
“What?” Winnie hiccupped, disbelief dripping from her tone. “You’re not coming home?”
“I’ll call you soon, okay? Love you.” And with that, Whitney disconnected, swallowing down the uneasy sensation crawling up her throat.
“Is everything okay?” Daisy asked, patting Whitney’s shoulder.
Whitney snuffled. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” She shoved her phone back into her purse with trembling hands, her sister’s words ricocheting through her skull. Come home.
“I was looking for you. Trevor and Paul are going to be fine, they’re over with the EMTs getting looked at. Unfortunately, Malcolm suffered some injuries and he’s on his way to the hospital. They think he’ll recover, but he’s pretty banged up.”
“Oh, that’s great news. Except for poor Malcolm.”
Daisy reached out, latching onto Whitney’s hand and pulling her back to the scene. “Trevor’s right over here. I’m sure he’s dying to see you.”
The pair strode through the crowd, stopping briefly to share the news with Kim. “You go find your men. I’ll be in the car where the AC is plentiful.” She flapped a paper fan in front of her face and sighed. “Menopause is a real bitch.”
Whitney bit back a laugh and followed Daisy to a cluster of ambulances. As they approached, she spotted Paul sitting on the tailgate, legs dangling. He had an oxygen mask over his mouth, his eyes dark and exhausted. “Paul, sugar!” Daisy dropped Whitney’s hand and sprinted over to him. As soon as she reached him, he pulled her close, knocking his mask to the ground.
The scene made Whitney’s heart swell, relaxing her as she looked for Trevor. A lot had transpired in the last two days, but she knew she wanted to be by his side. She would have time to figure out how to support her sister, but right now she needed to set eyes on a certain fireman.
Footsteps faltering, Whitney headed toward the cluster of ambulances. “Trevor?” she called out over the din. Skin vibrating, she buzzed with nervous energy as she swayed through the crowd. At first she thought she found him, sitting on a gurney and hunched forward. Clad in his gear, his form seemed hulking in the hazy night.
“Trev...” but his name evaporated from her lips when she realized he wasn’t alone. Whitney would recognize that lithe blonde anywhere—Virginia.
Virginia leaned over Trevor, eyes darting all around them as if she’d get caught where she wasn’t meant to be. Her red lips were moving a mile a minute, but Whitney couldn’t hear what she said. Slowly, Trevor’s head bobbed and swayed, his arm reaching out to Virginia’s arm to steady himself.
Whitney blinked, expecting the scene before her to change, to go back to something that made sense. But the longer she stood there, dumbfounded, the more she understood she’d gotten it all wrong. In his time of need, Trevor chose to lean on his ex. He wasn’t looking for her, he was with Virginia.
History was repeating itself; suddenly it all came swooping back ...
Baxter proposing to a faceless blonde, the scratchy fabric of her Savannah Banana hat digging into her skin as she watched him move on—in spectacular fashion.
Weeks alone on Winnie’s couch, cookie dough stuck in her hair while Xena whined for scraps.
That feeling that she didn’t know the man in her life, wasn’t worthy of someone’s love.
The sensations threatened to suffocate Whitney, her throat already closing, her heart crumbling to dust.
Suddenly, a strangled sound, much like livestock being slaughtered on a farm, cut through the din of the scene. It was only when she saw all eyes on her that Whitney realized she’d been the one making the horrid noise. She clamped a hand over her mouth as the tears fell.
Virginia looked over, seemingly disinterested in the audience. Trevor’s eyes grew from above his oxygen mask, and he struggled to disentangle himself from Virginia. Whitney stumbled back, bumping into Javi.
“Easy, Whitney, you okay?”
“Excuse me,” she muttered, pushing free from his hold as she bolted toward Kim and her car.
Behind her, she heard Javi’s confused voice calling out for her and a scratchy grunt that likely belonged to Trevor. It didn’t matter who it was or what they had to say, because Whitney needed to get away from here.
And the sooner, the better.