Hearts Ablaze (Courageous Hearts Series Book 2) Read online

  “You can call me Elena,” I told her, enunciating the E. Only Ethan had the privilege of calling me Lena, and it came after years of my disapproving correcting before he was finally grandfathered into the nickname. “What do you need to talk to me about?”

  I tried to angle my body between she and Sylvia so Sylvia would have the opportunity to calm herself. “Well,” Taylor started, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “You and Ethan looked really close, but I wanted to make sure you know that we’re only on a break. It’s temporary.”

  I had no idea how to respond to the comment, but Sylvia didn’t hesitate. “Is he aware of the break, or it is a self-imposed thing? Because I guarantee he is not willing to screw you again.”

  I gasped, but Taylor didn’t flinch. “It’s mutually imposed actually. He understood that I needed him to heal fully before getting back with him. I can handle a few scars, but who wants to be around the fresh burns?” Taylor faked a gag. “But he completely understood and gave me space while he healed.”

  Disgust coursed through my veins. “You were too disgusted with his wounds to stay with him?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Of course not. That sounds terrible.” I knew I hadn’t misunderstood her. “But the wounds smelled terrible. I couldn’t sleep in the same bed as him without puking. We agreed that once he figured out the medical stuff, I’d be here for him. He just had to heal first. Then we took a bit longer so he could get over the nightmares. But it’s time for me to come back, and we both know it.”

  Taylor was the most despicable human being I had ever met. “You left him vulnerable because of the scars and the nightmares. If you cared for him, you could have stayed by him. You lost your chance.”

  Any decency on her face faded as she scowled at me. “I have been with him longer than you. I know him better than anyone, and he will choose me every time. I can ignore a few scars when he’s inside of me, and when he’s not, he’ll be wearing a shirt anyways. He’s mine, and you’d do well not to forget it.” All the perfect features I envied previously morphed into an ugly expression.

  I hadn’t realized that people as cruel and petty as her existed.

  “You’d do well to realize who you’re talking to,” I told her, stepping into her face. I was not one to start conflict, but my calloused hands and strong arms would break a girl like her.

  “I know exactly who I’m talking to,” she said. “The whore who’s trying to steal my boyfriend.”

  I snickered and clenched my fists. I felt Sylvia’s hand over my wrist and tried to ground myself using her grip. “I’m the whore who accepts his scars whether he’s inside of me or beside me. If you don’t think they’re as beautiful as he is, you don’t deserve any man, let alone him.”

  She shrugged. “We’ll see what he thinks.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and turned her back.

  I lunged forward, done with allowing her to hurt Ethan. If she was anywhere near him, she’d have the power to break him, and I was not going to let that happen. He was too fragile to be brought down again so soon. Sylvia’s grip was like steel around my wrists as I attempted to go at Taylor. “No,” Sylvia said. “You don’t need to drop to her level. Ethan is yours, and he will never slum it with her again.”

  Her words went in one ear and out the other, but her words clicked with me. She was right, even if I hated to admit it. Ethan had shown nothing but interest in me from the moment we first rekindled our relationship, and Taylor would not get in the way of that.

  She may have thought she had power over him, but I knew she was wrong. I unclenched my fists and took a deep breath.

  I let her walk away, but her words stuck with me.

  Chapter Twelve

  I fumed over every word that Taylor said for twenty-four hours before deciding that confronting Ethan about the situation would be the best way to curb my anger. I needed to talk to the person most central to the issue. I walked inside his house using the key I was given. I knew he’d sleep late after a long night at the fire department, so rather than waking him, I got to work on staining the kitchen cabinets the same dark color as the wooden furniture I had worked on in previous days.

  I needed to finish the kitchen backsplash within the next day, but the drill was too loud to run while Ethan slept. For four hours, I did the most mundane and silent tasks I could find, so when I finally heard him stomping down the stairs, I put down my stain and greeted him with a smile. “So, I ran into Taylor yesterday,” I told him.

  Ethan stumbled the rest of the way into the kitchen and groaned. “It’s too early for this,” he told me, grabbing a box of cereal and pouring himself a bowl.

  “Too early for your crazy ex?” I leaned into the counter as he poured milk.

  “Let me take a bite of cereal first,” he said. He walked slowly around the counter and stared at his cereal, as if mentally preparing himself for what would happen after he took a bite. I waited patiently as he brought the spoon to his mouth and chewed slowly. For the first time, I noticed that he’d come downstairs without a shirt, and I purposely avoided looking at his scars. I thought they were sexy, but my attention would give him other ideas.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I snickered. “That’s unfortunate. She cornered Sylvia and I last night. She’s under the impression that you two are on a break.”

  He sighed and shoveled another bite into his mouth. “That sounds like her bullshit.”

  “She said that she had a claim on you, and I didn’t.”

  He finally looked awake. “I told her that if she left me, we were done. I couldn’t have been clearer.”

  “And you just let her get away with how she treated you? The things she said to me were disgusting. She acted like you were a piece of meat or something,” I said. My stomach turned over at the reminder.

  Ethan looked at his bowl and shook his head. “She was all about appearances. I’m not perfect after that fire, and she knows that. I don’t know why she thinks she still has a claim on me, because I haven’t talked to her for years.”

  I pursed my lips. “Okay, fine. I understand that. But why wouldn’t you go and show her what she’s missing? Flaunt your shit and show her that she’s not good enough for the likes of you.”

  Was I acting petty? Probably. Was I angry that she had the audacity to treat me like I was nobody and expect me to back off? Absolutely. But Ethan, bless his heart, looked utterly confused by my proposition. “Why would I flaunt myself around her? I don’t want anything to do with her.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t want you anywhere near her either. She’s not a good person, and she’s an even worse influence.” I didn’t know how to approach what I wanted.

  “Well,” he started, putting down his spoon. “I’m sorry. I’m confused as to what you’re asking of me.”

  I sighed. “You don’t want to be around her? You don’t want her anywhere near you?” I asked.

  He crossed his arms in front of him and pushed his cereal to the side. I continued to confuse him. “Are you jealous? Do you need to hear me talk about what she did, and why I will never consider her for me again?” I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued. “She didn’t just leave me. She told me that if I could get back to normal, she’d come back. She compared me to a monster from a horror movie. She was considerate the day after the fire, but when she saw the burns, she told me that I’d have been better off dying than living in a body so ruined.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “She said all of those things?”

  His eyes were hard, as if he had moved past the point of anger and sadness, and onto disgust. He knew that what she said was horrible, but I imagined some of the words still stuck to his subconscious perception of himself. “Those were some of the milder things she said. I will never be with her again. I can’t believe I didn’t see how superficial she was before the fire,” he said.

  “Women can act one way and be completely different,” I told him.
/>
  “I guess something good came out of these burns,” he said.

  “A lot of good came out of them,” I told him, and he raised his brows. “You saved Derrick, so that’s one hell of a good thing. You also got rid of the people in your life who don’t deserve to be there. Now you don’t have to put up with an entire life of Taylor’s bullshit.”

  I wanted to offer that he could have a life with me instead, but I refrained from saying it. “I wish they weren’t so horrible in every other way,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He snickered. “If you’d seen the way people have looked at them, you’d understand. They make people sick. I can’t even take off a shirt in front of my future children without them asking why I am the way I am.”

  I walked over to him and pushed his chair, so he faced me rather than the counter. I put my hands on both sides of his face. “That fear is what you need to get over. If people stare at you like you’re gross, that says something about them as people, not about you. I mean, gosh, look at you.” I looked down his body and my heart accelerated. “You are literally stunning, and frankly the burn scars make you sexier.”

  He loosened and rested his forehead against mine, uncrossing his arms and bringing me between his legs. I leaned down to keep close to him. “I wish it was that easy,” he said.

  “I know it will take time, but I really think that the auction is something you should do. It will help you see that everyone won’t look at you like you think.”

  His expression tightened and he pulled away slightly. “That’s what this is about again? I told you that I won’t do it—not with the scars.”

  I pulled myself further away. “If you never do anything to work on accepting yourself, you’ll never accept yourself. You can’t keep doing things that are in your comfort zone forever, because it won’t help you heal.”

  “I don’t need to escape my comfort zone to feel better about myself.” His scowl deepened

  “Have you seen a therapist? Because I’m sure they’ll tell you the same thing.” I struggled to maintain a gentle tone. I wanted to scream some sense into him. He didn’t understand.

  Ethan stood from his chair and stepped further away from me. Was I pushing him too far? “I don’t need a therapist. I need more time. I opened up to you, didn’t I?” he asked.

  I raised my hands in frustration. “You do need a therapist. You’re scared to death of anyone seeing your scars, you can’t go into fires anymore, and you refuse to accept that those things are not normal,” I shouted.

  “They’re normal for someone who went through what I did,” he shouted back, running his hands through his hair. “I know I’m fucked up, but I’ll fix it in my own time.”

  “Will you, Ethan? Because it looks like you’re going to continue hiding from your issues forever. You need to confront them.” My voice progressively grew louder.

  “Can the same not be said about you?” he asked, grabbing my left hand and raising it. My ring rested on the same finger as it had before Bruce died. “You can’t move on from your husband who’s been dead for three years. Are you seeing a therapist, or do you need time, too?” he asked.

  I jerked my hand back and held it to my chest. His angry touch was like ice in my veins. “I don’t need a therapist anymore,” I whispered. I’d seen one for a while, but I was past that point.

  “Neither do I,” he shouted. I stared at him as all the pain he’d held back oozed from him in waves.

  “There’s one difference between us,” I told him, taking a step back. “You can’t confront your issue. You won’t touch a fire with a ten-foot pole, and you won’t let anyone see the scars on your body. You won’t tell Taylor to go and shove it, and you refuse to do what’s needed to heal.”

  He didn’t let me finish. “What’s the difference?” he asked.

  I put out the flames of his anger with my next words. “I confront my issue every week at my husband’s grave. And this week, I told him that I was moving on to a man who had a caring heart. I told him that you needed to heal, but that he’d approve. But the man who I’m looking at right now?” I shook my head and turned, walking toward the door. “He would never approve of you.”

  Ethan didn’t move, and I didn’t hear him follow. I wondered if I finally broke him in the way Garrett warned that I could.

  Until he decided to take a step toward healing, it was no longer my problem.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I broke my habit of showing at the fire station late enough to see everyone a few nights after Ethan and my fight. He hadn’t been at his house while I made the finishing touches, and when I left a note that told him it was done, I wasn’t contacted. When I left to make dinner for the firemen the night after his house was done, I showed up an hour earlier than usual. I wanted to make dinner and leave before Ethan showed, so I left Derrick at his daycare longer than usual. The woman watching him was more than happy to keep him a little later.

  I finished the spaghetti and meat sauce in record time, and none of the men bothered me in the breakroom as I cooked. When I checked to make sure everyone was still present, Benji and Nehemiah stood together and spoke as Garrett rested atop the firetruck in the way I often saw all the men doing while on duty. Everyone was waiting for me to finish, and I was more than ready to leave.

  I took the food from the stove and rushed out of the break room to let everyone know that dinner was ready when the alarm sounded, and everyone jumped to action. “Another house fire,” Nehemiah shouted. “Someone call Scott and Ethan and get them in here.”

  “I’m here,” Ethan said, running through the doorway. He stumbled slightly when he saw me, but he brushed past me without a word. He didn’t hesitate as he suited up. I pressed myself into the wall to stay out of everyone’s way as they did their jobs. Garrett was the first in the driver’s seat, and he stared at the screen of the ambulance. He glanced back at me and then at the screen again.

  Everyone finished dressing and jumped into the firetruck. Unlike usual, though, they paused. “Damn it,” Ethan shouted. “Get your ass inside, Lena.”

  I wanted to hesitate, but something in his voice told me that he was more serious than he’d ever been before. I ran to the truck and grabbed ahold of Ethan’s hand. I refrained from reacting as he pulled me inside. The truck flew into drive, and only the hand on my wrist gave me the ability to stay on my feet. Ethan, in his thick suit, pulled me onto the bench seat beside him. The front of his mask was pulled back, so I had full view of his terrified, brown eyes.

  “What is it?” I asked. Was this how he looked before every fire? Was it this obvious?

  “Lena,” he said gently. “I have no doubt that everyone was brought out of this fire safely and will be waiting on the other side of the street,” he told me. I wasn’t understanding until I looked around and saw the same fear on everyone else’s faces.

  “Where is the fire?” I asked, holding my breath. If my house was burning, I had insurance, and I could start looking for another. All of our important belongings—all of Bruce’s belongings that escaped the last fire—were still in a storage unit. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why everyone looked so horrified. If nobody was hurt, why would they bother looking so upset.

  And why did Ethan claim that everyone likely got outside?

  “The daycare you use—the one you recommended for Scott’s kids,” Ethan said. He left a hand on my leg to keep me from springing up in the rapidly accelerating vehicle.

  I froze. Was fate so cruel that it would not only kill Derrick’s father in a fire, but then force him to suffer another? “It’s at Derrick’s daycare?”

  I couldn’t breathe. All the oxygen fled the truck as I considered my boy’s pain. “You need to calm down, or you’ll have a panic attack. The daycares around here have escape routes that they practice with the kids, so I’m sure everyone is okay.” It wasn’t an answer to my question, but it was enough of one. Ethan appeared entirely confident in his statement. He h
ad no reason to believe there was a person inside the fire. After all, the fire department had saved all but one person in the past ten years. The odds of the second person being related to the first were nearly impossible.

  I tried to use odds to convince myself, but until I saw Derrick, I wouldn’t be able to curb my panic. “Are we about there?” I shouted at Garrett as he drove the truck. I knew the role was typically Scott’s, but we couldn’t wait for him—especially not when it was Derrick’s daycare in question.

  “Thirty second.” The roaring of the firetruck’s sirens nearly drowned out his voice.

  The thirty seconds were the longest of my life. And as soon as we came to a stop, I sprung from the back of the truck. A soothing relief coursed through me as I noticed the daycare instructor, Suzan, and a few kids standing on the street, but as I scanned their faces, Derrick wasn’t in sight. Suzan rushed toward me and the firefighters. “They’re still inside. Derrick and Faith. I thought I had all the kids. I did have all the kids, but Faith left her doll. She must have run back inside while I was getting everyone else outside.”

  “How could you leave them?” I shouted, my voice hoarse and broken. I turned and looked at the blaze that heated my face from across the street. Fire swept through most of the structure, and it pushed through upper level windows. “Derrick,” I screamed. Tears flooded my vision and I wiped them away quickly. Ethan put down his mask and started running toward the fire.

  And the other three followed him without hesitation. All were entirely smitten with my son, and all would risk their lives going into a burning structure to save him. Ethan turned. “Garrett, you’re with me. Nehemiah and Benji, get some water on this.”

  Everyone followed orders, and I held my breath and Ethan didn’t hesitate to rush inside the front door of the house. “He wasn’t left behind,” Suzan said. “He went back for Faith.”