Sacrifice. Brigid Kemmerer

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СКАЧАТЬ turned to snap at him, because he couldn’t take any more emotion or uncertainty, and “helpful” commentary from a veritable stranger wasn’t all that welcome.

      But Adam was already through the door, softly latching it behind him, leaving Michael sitting on the concrete, alone with his worries.

      Hannah lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing sleep to slow her thoughts. She’d choked down a cup of coffee on the way home from the firehouse, knowing she’d have to be alert enough to get James to school, but now she was paying the price.

      Some days her life was almost too surreal for examination. Six hours ago, she’d been performing CPR between burning houses during an earthquake. One hour ago, she’d been holding James close, inhaling his ever-present scent of sugar cookies and boy sweat, tickling him until he cried, “Mommy!” and collapsed in giggles on the front steps of his elementary school.

      Then he’d gone through the double doors, and she’d walked back to her car, enduring the judgmental stares from the other mothers, most of whom were ten years older than she was.

      When she’d been seventeen with an infant, she’d expected the stares. They validated a feeling she’d walked around with every day: shame.

      Now, she wanted to scream at them all. I’m a good mother, too.

      Some days she felt interminably lonely. Any friends she’d had in high school were finishing college now, looking at internships and getting ready to start their adult lives. Hannah had started her adult life five years ago, and she couldn’t relate to young women whose biggest dilemmas were how to get their first credit card or how to deal with a roommate who had loud sex at all hours of the night. But she also didn’t fit in with women whose days revolved around yoga class or desk jobs or picking up their husband’s dry-cleaning. She felt squarely smashed in between life cycles, trapped by a mistake of her own making.

      A mistake she wouldn’t change for anything in the world.

      She loved her son.

      He just didn’t cure the loneliness.

      Hannah picked up her phone and checked for a text from Michael. Nothing. He still hadn’t responded. Should she call? He was probably asleep by now.

      She sent another text.

      When you have a moment, please let me know you’re okay.

      She clicked off the screen and set the phone on her nightstand, not expecting a response.

      The phone rang almost immediately, and she snatched it up. “Hello?”

      “Hey.” Michael. He sounded exhausted. His voice hadn’t lost the roughness.

      “Hey. Did I wake you?”

      A low sound, almost a laugh. “No.”

      “Are you staying in a hotel?”

      “No. Adam’s place. At least for the day. The guys needed to sleep.”

      “Nick’s boyfriend? Are they all crashed on the floor?”

      “Nah, he left. They’ve taken over all the furniture.”

      “Where are you going to sleep?”

      “You’re funny.”

      Silence filled the line for a minute, as she tried to figure out how to respond to that. “I’ve been worried about you.”

      He didn’t say anything for so long that she had to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. He finally sighed. “We’re fine.” He paused. “Your dad let me get some clothes out of the house. The truck survived.”

      His voice sounded so bleak. She didn’t have much experience with this side of firefighting, and all the intimacy of sitting in the back of the ambulance was gone now that their only connection was based on a cell signal. She wished she knew what to say. “Have you talked to the insurance company yet?”

      “I just hung up. They’re having a case manager call me back later.”

      She sat up in bed. “You sound . . . you don’t sound good. Do you want me to come over?”

      “No. No, Hannah. I want—look, forget it. I felt bad for not texting back.” A long sigh, full of pain and so much emotion that she wanted to drive over there right now and wrap him up in her arms. Then his voice steadied. “We’re okay. We’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me.”

      “Michael, I just watched your neighborhood burn down. I am worried about you.”

      That low not-quite laugh. “Don’t remind me.” A pause. An almost-shaky breath. “Please.”

      “Why don’t I come over? I can bring coffee—”

      “I said no, okay?”

      His tone shut her up quick. Hannah blinked.

      He made a shuffling sound with the phone, and his voice sounded distant for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m—it’s been a bad night. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

      “Did my dad give you a hard time? Are you in trouble—?”

      “I need to go.”

      “Please don’t go,” she said. “Please don’t hang up. Talk to me.”

      “God, Hannah. I wish I could. You have no idea how much I wish I could.”

      And then, before she could say a word, he ended the call.

      CHAPTER 8

      It had been a bad idea to call her. He’d almost lost it again. The wind was picking up, stinging Michael’s cheeks and eyes. He welcomed the pain. It fed him irritation, which worked pretty well to tamp down the anxiety.

      His brothers and Hunter were sleeping soundly. He’d checked a minute ago. Common sense dictated that he should be sleeping, too, but sitting inside the apartment left him feeling panicked and claustrophobic. He’d started to walk, hoping motion would help tame his wild thoughts, but twenty feet from the back door, he worried that he was leaving his brothers vulnerable again.

      So now he was back on the porch, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

      Had Calla started those fires? They had a history, Calla and his family. She wasn’t the type to strike hard and not brag, but anything was possible.

      Michael had her cell number programmed into his phone, and after gritting his teeth for a full thirty seconds, ready for her taunting voice to mock him for not starting a war quickly enough, he dialed. The line rang and rang and eventually ended on a mechanical tone telling him the number had been disconnected.

      Michael stared at his phone, studying the digits as if he’d somehow misdialed a programmed number.

      He stupidly called again, sure there’d been some mistake.

      Same СКАЧАТЬ