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If he believed in signs from the universe like Ava did, he’d look at the customer’s kindness as the good to balance the bad. Because—let’s face it—everything is off this morning.
His dad waited near the door, enthused about the evacuee from the fires. While second thoughts shifted through Dan. He hadn’t rented out the in-law unit since his divorce, preferring to keep things as simple as possible, especially for Ben.
Dan silently thanked the stranger for the gesture. Stuffed the money he would’ve used to pay for his order along with a tip into the tip jar and grabbed his to-go order.
His dad held the door open. “Perhaps you’ll discover a new appreciation for pets with our tenant.”
That wasn’t ever going to happen. Dan had nothing against dogs. In another life, he’d pictured his home with several kids, two dogs and a wife. That wasn’t his world now and that picture had been distorted years ago. Dan’s world now was his work, volunteering and his son.
Besides, he wasn’t about to do anything that might ruin what he already had. His life was good. He was content. Ben was happy. That was enough, wasn’t it? “I don’t think she’ll be with us that long.”
“There’s a fire raging in the mountains, son.” Rick settled a baseball cap on his head and studied the sky. “It was only twenty-five percent contained this morning.” That could delay her return.
“Pick up groceries on your way home.”
“I went to the store two days ago.” Dan pulled his truck keys from his pocket.
“Not for us,” his dad said. “For Brooke. Our tenant.”
Dan stopped on the sidewalk and faced his dad. “You want me to buy her food?”
“I’m heading back up north.” Rick twisted a plastic lid over his coffee cup. “They need help transporting supplies to the shelters.”
And his father expected Dan to help their new tenant. After all, that was the Sawyer way.
He could argue that he’d forgotten to order syringes last week and had to pick those up within the hour. Mention the planning meeting he’d promised to attend for the school’s Fall Festival. And detail every other ball he juggled to keep the Sawyer family moving forward. It wouldn’t matter.
His dad knew Dan would buy groceries. And Dan knew it, too.
He ordered his dad to be safe, climbed into his truck and rearranged his schedule for a quick stop at the grocery store.
Ten minutes later, Ava climbed into the truck. She dumped her backpack with a thud and grasped the extra tall tea from the drink holder like it was a divine gift. “What is a sign associated with meningitis—Homans’s sign, Kernig’s sign or Tinel’s sign?”
“Kernig’s sign. If the leg can’t be straightened, it’s a positive sign for meningitis. Homan’s is deep-vein thrombosis and Tinel’s is carpal tunnel syndrome.” Dan tapped his coffee cup against hers. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“You should be in physician’s assistant school with me.” Ava sipped her tea. “I could use your brain.”
“You mean you could copy off me.” Dan pulled away from the curb and merged with the traffic.
“It’s wrong to copy.” Ava glanced in the back seat as if making sure Ben wasn’t there. “But I would use your notes. You write much neater than me.”
“You say that like it’s bad.” Dan clicked on his blinker to change lanes. That should mute the vibration of his phone on the console and his urge to make sure it wasn’t Valerie calling him again.
“Speaking of bad things, did you hear about Hank?” Ava asked.
“Kevin told me that Hank got sick last night.” Dan’s supervisor, Kevin McCoy, had called him on his way into work to let Dan know he was one of the senior guys on shift for the night.
“Sick is putting it mildly,” Ava said. “Denise texted me. Hank is having triple-bypass surgery this morning. He’s only forty-four.”
Hank Decker was also a career paramedic and one of Dan’s longtime coworkers. Dan stopped at a red light and looked at Ava. “Are you serious?”
“Wish I wasn’t.” Ava tapped her fingers against her cup. “What did you eat last night in the rig?”
“What does that have to do with Hank?” Dan scowled at the traffic around him.
“Come on, Dan. You and I both know the statistics of our work too well,” Ava said. “You have to take better care of yourself. You don’t want to become another statistic.”
Dan focused on the car in front of him. Ava had to transition from her paramedic work into something less stressful. Between her military-medic background and working as a paramedic in the city, she’d pushed the limit on her stress boundaries. But Dan didn’t have that kind of stress. Sure, his plate was full, but whose plate wasn’t?
“If you aren’t going to do something for yourself, then do it for Ben,” Ava urged.
“Fine. You’re right.” Ben was his everything. His son was his world. And his best friend wasn’t wrong. “I could stand to eat a few less french fries and add a few more days at the gym every week. That sound good?”
“It’s a start,” Ava said.
“Now, can we talk about coordinating the bachelor-and-bachelorette celebrations?” And move away from Dan’s health and his fast track to becoming another statistic.
Dan gripped the steering wheel. Had his supervisor known about the seriousness of Hank’s condition last night? Was that why Kevin had ended the call with the comment about an assistant director position opening within the next month? Adding that he considered Dan a natural fit, as if Kevin feared Dan might be next on the statistic train. Would he?
Dan took a large sip of his coffee, determined to slip in an hour at the gym later that afternoon. “I think we should stick with our original idea. Call the whole thing a coed bash and have one big party.”
Surely talking about wedding plans with his best friend would get the day back on track. Back to normal. And distract him from his phone. The one that buzzed again on the console. Dan rushed on, covering the sound, “About the wedding schedule.”
“You’re quite popular this morning. Something I should know?” Ava grabbed his phone and held it out of his reach. Her gaze settled on Dan like the fog over the bay: heavy and dense. “You met someone.”
“When?” Dan shook his head. “Last night between the heart attack and the preterm labor patient?”
“You have less than four weeks until the wedding. You need a date, or you’ll be at the singles’ setup table,” Ava warned, as if he wasn’t paying close enough attention. “Do you want that?”
He wanted his day to return to normal. He wanted Valerie to stop calling. He wanted to grab his phone from Ava. “Who’s at the singles’ table?”
“Women who want to date you.” Ava’s smile lifted her eyebrows and lightened her tone. “Especially Marlene Henderson. You remember Marlene, right? Wyatt’s mom introduced you guys during her garden party in the spring. Marlene is the master gardener at the botanical garden.”
And excessively gabby. Dan cringed. He’d never met anyone capable of putting so many words into one breath so continuously without hyperventilating. Dan had taken several deep breaths for the poor woman. Fortunately, a dear friend of Wyatt’s mom had a plant question and Dan had handed off Marlene, then escaped. Surely there was another guest on the wedding-invite list prepared and eager to match Marlene word for word. It just wasn’t Dan.
His phone chimed. He winced and concentrated on the road. He was setting his phone on permanent silence as soon as he got it back.
“Seriously, what is with your phone? You never get so many calls.” Ava crammed the party-planner binder back into her backpack. “We’ll deal with party planning later. What aren’t you telling me?”
Ava’s insight was all too clear. One of the pitfalls of having a best friend trained to read people and their actions. Dan pulled into a parking space outside San Francisco College of Medicine and turned toward Ava.
She jumped in first. “Everything okay with Ben? Your dad?”
The concern in Ava’s voice broke through Dan’s jumbled thoughts. Ava cared for his family. Her interest was real and genuine. He’d always appreciated that about her. “Dad is fine. He’s opened the mother-in-law apartment to a fire evacuee.”
“That’s wonderful and...” Ava’s words drifted off as if she sensed there was more.
He supposed she could read him well enough to know there was more. They’d worked in tandem too many nights on call in the ambulance not to be able to figure out each other.
“There’s more,” Dan admitted. He pushed Ava’s hand toward her. “Put the phone on speaker and press Play on the voice mail.”
Ava glanced at the phone screen. Shock slowed her words. “Valerie called six times. Valerie, as in your ex-wife, Valerie. The ex-wife who is now with your younger brother.”
Dan’s heartbeat stalled as if that assailant connected with a knockout punch after all. Five years ago, Dan had been pretzeled on his son’s hospital bed, Ben finally asleep on his chest. He’d been adjusting Ben’s IV lines and scolding himself for his misstep in caring for his sick son. The flu had played havoc with Ben’s glucose levels; the vomiting had only compounded things. Ben had been admitted to the hospital for the fourth time that year. And Dan had feared he’d never get it right.
Then the text from Valerie had arrived. Not a checking-on-her-sick-son text. But rather a picture of Valerie with her arms wrapped around Dan’s younger brother, her lips pressed against Jason’s cheek. The caption—Monte Carlo brought us together—in bold print underneath. Valerie had followed that with a quick explanation: There wasn’t an easy way to tell you. But we both want each other to be happy, right?
Dan had dropped the phone on the floor and curled his arms around his young son. Determined to focus on his true family and guard those he loved from harm.
Years later and he’d kept his promise. He’d gotten over his ex-wife. But he wasn’t as numb to his brother’s betrayal as he wanted to be.
Dan finally dipped his chin, the motion stiff, his voice flat. “That’s her.”
“What does she want?” Suspicion laced Ava’s tone.
“Play the voice mail and we can find out.” Unease twisted through his stomach again.
Valerie’s lyrical voice with her upbeat excitement, like she had a really great secret to share filled the truck. “Bon journo, Dan. Call me back, please. Maybe not now. My connection isn’t the best. But call me. Ciao.”
“You can delete it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Ava checked the time and swore under her breath. “I have to go to class.”
“I don’t want it to be a big deal.”
He had no idea what Valerie wanted. He only knew he had to protect Ben from getting hurt by her again. This time Ben was old enough to feel his heart breaking if his mother let him down again.
“It already is.” Ava tossed the phone at Dan. “You have to call Valerie back. See what she wants.”
Dan gripped the phone. “You have to get to class.”
“I know. I know. Text me as soon as you talk to Valerie. Otherwise, I won’t be able to concentrate in neurology.” Ava opened her door, climbed out of the truck and leaned back inside. “You’re still good with everyone coming over Friday night, right?”
“Definitely.” Several phone calls from his ex-wife and a new tenant were not going to alter his life or change his schedule. “I’m making chicken and waffles, so let everyone know to come hungry.”
Ava pointed at his phone. “Call her.”
The truck door slammed shut. Dan stuffed his phone in the empty drink holder and backed out of the parking space.
Call Valerie?
Not on his life.
CHAPTER THREE (#u317858f7-1d8d-5407-b1f1-3c4c43bd59f4)
I’M GOING TO SUFFOCATE.
Brooke shoved aside the thick down comforter, smacked her bare feet on the wooden floor of the bedroom and lunged for the light switch.
Light flooded across the unfamiliar four-poster bed, highlighting the rustic roses embroidered on the comforter. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to banish the nightmares of her past.
She stumbled into the kitchen, slapped at the light switches. The night pressed against the windows. Her fear pressed against her chest, sucking away the air and her sanity.
She should never have returned.
The clock on the microwave glowed as if mocking her lack of bravery. Rick had given her a tour of the one-bedroom cottage behind the main house less than three hours ago. Welcomed her and her pets into the unit. And she’d believed—in that moment—everything would be all right.
Lies. So many lies. You’re destined for great things, Brooke. Dream big. Reach for the stars, dear.
She’d reached like her mom had encouraged her. Now she was alone, like she’d been as a child. The shy misfit scared of her own shadow.
But the shadows haunted her now with a different intensity.
You’ll always be safe with me, Brooke. Even Phillip had lied. Promises couldn’t be kept in a world where twists of fate took away the promisor.
She turned on the lamps in the family room. Flipped the switch for the gas fireplace. Lit up the apartment as if that would steady her world. Prove she was safe.
Brooke reached for her cell phone, her fingers slipping on the granite kitchen counter. She opened the city-map app. Typed in the address that tormented her and stole her good night’s sleep.
Two-point-six miles. That was all that separated Brooke from the very corner where a drunk driver had taken everything she’d loved from her. All the promises shattered.
Inhale into your stomach. And hold it for a count of five. So many therapy sessions and still she forgot how to breathe. The urge to run seized her.
Instead her knees buckled. She had nowhere to go.
She collapsed on a kitchen stool and stared at the blue pin flashing over the corner of Bayview and State Streets. The spot she hadn’t returned to in the past five years. She’d never again wanted to step foot two hundred miles from there much less twenty blocks.
Deep breaths from your stomach. Increase the oxygen. Slow yourself down. She exhaled on a five count. Now repeat.
Her gaze skipped around the open space, seeking something—anything—to focus on. The compact, modern kitchen encouraged even an amateur cook like herself to prepare a decadent three-course meal. The empty bar stools waited for friends to gather. The vintage couch and matching chair were worn and relaxed from years of conversations and comfortable use.
Only one word echoed through Brooke: trapped.
She was boxed in like the three crystal angel ornaments—Joy, Hope, Love—wrapped inside the wooden jewelry case handmade by her father. Her late husband had given her the angels on their third anniversary. Phillip had claimed the angels would remind her to laugh, to always find the good in everything and to never give up.
There was one other option: her former in-laws, Ann and Don Ellis. Her mother-in-law had called and offered her their spare room, but she’d had shelter then. And surely, they didn’t want a constant reminder of their grief. They’d lost their only son.
She rested her forehead on the cool granite counter.
A wildfire had destroyed her house and land. She had her pets and her life—she had what mattered most. She should be grateful.
Still, she wanted to yell at the universe: Why?
And demand an answer for a seemingly impossible choice: face the city she feared or the in-laws she knew she could never apologize to enough.
Luna sat beside her and leaned against Brooke’s leg. Brooke reached down and sank her fingers into the dog’s thick fur. The counter supported her cheek, stopping her from crumpling to the floor. Her gaze locked on the paperwork from Darla.
That was a checklist for what to do after a fire. Not a checklist for what to do to rally courage.
