Love And Games: Taste The Heat Part 14

"And what would that have done?" she asked. "Cane, this was Dad's fault, not yours. It wasn't your job to protect me from his mistakes. And no amount of talking would make me unsee what I saw."

"Maybe not," he conceded with a soft smile full of regret. "But you would've known you weren't alone."

Colby squeezed her eyes against his words. He was right about that. For so long she'd felt alone. Before that night at the campground, she hadn't told a single person about that horrific day. But with Jason, she had. And it felt good to know she could talk to her big bad brother, too.

She went on tiptoe and slung her arms around his neck. "Now I do know that," she told him, placing a soft peck on his cheek. "And you're not alone, either."

Cane wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight. For a long moment, she stayed there. Letting him hold her, and holding him back. Sharing the hurt they'd had to shoulder on their own. When she sank back to her feet, they shared a look of relieved stress; then as one, their eyes fell to the envelope clenched in her hands.

What in the h.e.l.l is in it?

"Should I read mine now?" she asked, quite honestly scared of the thing.

"If you want." He stepped away to give her privacy and checked the clock. "I'll stick around for a few more minutes in case you need me."

Colby tried for a brave smile, but he saw through it. Cane squeezed her shoulder on his way out of the room and she waited until he disappeared down the hall. Then, alone in her father's kitchen, she tore open the envelope.

There were actually two letters nestled inside-one in her mother's handwriting, the other in her father's. Halfway through the first, tears back in her eyes and cascading down her cheeks, Cane's annoying duck call ringtone broke the silence.

"Emma?"

Colby's head snapped up.

"Em, you gotta slow down. Where are you?"

He appeared in the door, keys in hand, and at the look on his face, Colby started to shake. Clenching the letters in her hands, she tried moving to join him. Her legs wouldn't respond.

"I'll meet you there," he said. "Yes, I'm bringing Colby." He lifted an eyebrow and she felt herself nod. "We'll be by your side before you know it. Everything's going to be okay, Em. Your dad's the toughest son of a b.i.t.c.h I've ever met, you hear me?"

Hanging up, Cane took three long strides and grabbed Colby's hands. Too scared to bother correcting him for his language-Emma had probably heard worse anyway-she asked, "What? What happened? Where are we going?"

"Northsh.o.r.e Hospital." He crushed her fingers in his grip. "Jason's been hurt."

Chapter Seventeen.

Jason's been hurt. Colby repeated those three words so many times on their way to the hospital that they no longer held any meaning. Panic seared a hole in her chest as images flashed in her mind. He had to be okay.

From the pa.s.senger seat of Cane's truck, she watched the world fly by without seeing. "Emma didn't tell you anything?" she asked again. "Not a clue about how bad it is, or what happened?"

Her brother sped around a car daring to go the actual speed limit and tightened his grip on the wheel. "No. I don't think she knew. And I was trying to calm her down."

Colby closed her eyes, unable to imagine what Emma was going through. "Of course; you did the right thing. I'm glad she knew to call you."

Cane gave her a quick glance. "I think she was looking for you."

One never-ending mile later, the hospital loomed into sight. Cane careened around the right turn without slowing and gunned it toward the Emergency Room. Pockets of firefighters already lingered near the main doors, and Colby clutched her stomach as she rocked in her seat.

Would they be here if it weren't serious?

The moment Cane threw his truck into park their doors were open. As agreed, he headed straight to the front desk while she rushed to the waiting room, searching for Jason's family. Eyes wide, it didn't take long to spot the blond ponytail huddled near the windows. "Emma."

The young girl's head shot up from her grandmother's shoulder. "Colby!"

Pushing to her feet, Emma tore across the linoleum floor. Frozen in place, seeing Jason's mom in tears confirming this was real, Colby could only open her arms. The girl threw herself into them. Her tiny body was trembling, her big brown eyes pooled with fear. "I'm so scared," she whispered, almost as if she was afraid to admit the truth aloud. "I can't handle losing him, too."

Closing her eyes against the fresh stab of pain, Colby tucked Emma's head under her chin. "You won't, sweetheart." She swallowed hard and opened them, her gaze falling on his mother. "You won't."

Emma's skinny arms tightened around her waist as she began sobbing in earnest. Running a hand over the girl's ponytail, she leaned down and pressed her lips against the top of it. A new batch of tears p.r.i.c.ked Colby's eyes. This girl owned her heart.

Blinking the moisture away, she hoa.r.s.ely asked Sharon, "Have y'all heard anything?"

"Not much." His mother's lips tipped up in a quivery smile. "One of Robert's friends at the station called as soon as it happened, but all he said was to come here. Robert's finding out what he can." Glancing at her granddaughter in Colby's arms, her eyes filled with remorse. She lifted a rosary-wrapped hand to her mouth. "Emma heard him on the phone. She refused to stay home. We didn't know what to do."

Colby nodded, understanding.

Keeping a firm grip around Emma, she walked them back to the empty chairs near Sharon. Hands interlocked, Emma squished beside her in one chair, and the three of them sat in silence, waiting. On the wall-mounted television, the five o'clock news began, and Colby's shoulders locked with dread. Would they show footage of the fire? Could she watch if they did?

Movement just outside the waiting room stole her attention. Her brother had stopped in the hallway; his dark head huddled with the Chief's. The man looked as though he'd aged ten years since she last saw him. And Cane's hair, which always defied grooming, stood on end more than normal. His jawline clenched and his gaze shifted to Colby. Time stopped.

"What did you hear?"

She hardly recognized the voice as her own, but somehow it carried over the squeak of soles and the pages over the intercom. The men exchanged a look, and then trudged forward.

Rigid lines etched both their foreheads. Cane's hands were buried deep in his pockets. Although she was sure they walked normally, it felt as if they moved in slow motion. When the men came to a stop in front of her, pinp.r.i.c.ks of pain pierced the back of Colby's hand. She glanced down and saw the tips of Sharon's fingernails embedded in her skin.

"There was a backdraft in the attic," his father said with obvious reluctance, reaching out to stroke Emma's cheek. "The first-floor ceiling collapsed, and Jason was inside."

A wave of vertigo almost sent Colby to her knees.

"Debris struck him in the head and knocked off his mask," he continued. "Jason was unconscious when the crew found him, but he was awake before they left the scene, and he was moderately responsive." Looking each of them in the eye, he said, "That's a very good sign. We'll know more when they finish their tests."

At the man's optimistic smile, the vise-grip crushing Colby's chest lessened a fraction. Taking a shallow breath she asked, "Was anyone else hurt?"

Her brother ran his hand over his jaw. "The explosion picked up one of Jason's men and threw him into the street. Gla.s.s got him pretty good, and he fractured an ankle. The doctors are taking him back for tests just in case." Cane tilted his head, indicating a young woman seated two rows over who looked as scared and lost as they did. "That's Michael's wife."

A pulse of kinship pa.s.sed between them as Colby locked eyes with the firefighter's wife.

Beside her, Emma squirmed. Wrapping her arms around her legs she asked, "How long until I can see Dad?"

Colby turned to the Chief, wanting to know the same thing.

"It's probably going to be a while, peanut." His bushy eyebrows drew together as he glanced at the clock on the wall. He sent Colby a weighted look and said, "But you know, I saw a McDonald's up the road. I'm sure you're getting hungry about now."

Colby got the message. "Really?" she asked, feigning enthusiasm. Honestly, the last thing she wanted to do was leave. Or eat. She wanted to stay right where she was, all night if she had to, until she saw Jason with her own eyes. But he wouldn't want his daughter sitting out here, waiting for hours, scared to death. Colby didn't want that either.

Taking the keys from Cane's outstretched hand, she nodded at Sharon's smile of grat.i.tude. She pushed to her feet and said, "I could go for some fries about now. Maybe a Big Mac. What do you say, Em? Uncle Cane has my number. He'll call the second they hear anything." Emma pinched her bottom lip between her fingers, and Colby tugged on her elbow. "You're not gonna make me eat by myself, are you?"

With a sigh, the girl set her feet on the floor and stood. "I guess not." Turning to Cane, she asked, "You'll call if you hear anything?"

He nodded. "Cross my heart."

As a.s.sured as she could be in this situation, Emma blew out a breath and took Colby's hand. They walked that way, hand in hand, through the exit doors and into the parking lot. Colby needed the connection just as much as Emma did.

When they reached Cane's truck, they clambered inside and buckled their seat belts seemingly on autopilot. Neither of them said a word. Colby didn't want to push. But as the engine rumbled to life, Emma turned in her seat. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything," she said without hesitation. Even if the truth was painful to admit, Emma deserved complete honesty. She'd been through so much in her short life. Steeling herself for an uncomfortable question, perhaps about how she'd broken her father's heart, she glanced over and found Emma's eyes shining with amus.e.m.e.nt. Her smile spread across her face, and despite everything, Colby found herself returning it. "What?"

Emma laughed. "Are you wearing pajamas?"

Hours later, still in her cat pajamas, Colby let herself into Jason's house. After stuffing their faces with fries, they'd returned to the hospital in time to stand over a sleeping captain. According to Cane, by the time the doctors allowed them back, Jason was awake long enough for his mom to see the color of his eyes, and then he was out again.

The official word from Jason's battery of tests and scans was smoke inhalation, bruised ribs, and a mild traumatic brain injury, which scared the c.r.a.p out of Colby, but boiled down to them needing to keep him overnight for observation. If his next CT scan came back stable in the morning, he'd be free to go home.

She'd offered to stay with Emma for the night so the girl could sleep in her own bed. Jason's parents had thought she did it to give them a break, but truthfully, her motives were selfish. She needed to be with Emma. She needed to be surrounded by Jason's things. She wanted to go to sleep in one of his shirts, slip between his sheets, and cuddle with his pillow.

"I'm gonna go to bed," Emma said, plodding across the thick carpet. Seeing her dad in that hospital bed, even asleep, had eased her anxiety greatly. She turned and yawned, blinking heavy eyelids as she asked, "We get to see Dad at nine?"

"We'll be there when they open the doors," Colby promised. "Go get some sleep, sweetheart."

Emma nodded tiredly. "Night." She turned back and began shuffling to her room. "Love you."

The hole in Colby's chest filled as she said, "I love you, too." She listened for Emma's door to click shut before slamming her head against the back of the sofa. "Now why couldn't I say that to Jason?"

She dragged herself up and locked the front door with a sigh, then directed her feet toward the Landry Hallway of Frames. The night Emma had given her the tour seemed so long ago. So much had changed...and so little really had. Colby was still the woman in love with her childhood crush. And she was still holding on to the past with an iron fist, letting it screw everything else up.

The soft glow from the nightlight in the bathroom lit the hall. Colby ran her fingers over each frame as she pa.s.sed, watching Emma's life unfold via picture. She stopped in front of the wedding photo that captured her imagination that first visit.

"You have a beautiful family, Ashleigh," she whispered. "I don't think anyone can fill your shoes. I know I certainly don't deserve the position. But you should know they are deeply loved." Patting the corner of the gilded frame, she opened the door to Jason's bedroom and stepped inside.

Colby had expected a feminine touch. He'd once shared this bedroom with his wife, and she hadn't figured him to be the type to change it. But this room was all Jason. A sleek, modern, king-sized bed dominated the s.p.a.ce. His comforter was deep green and simple. Hardwood floors were beneath her feet, and on the walls, his diploma, a baby picture of Emma, and a group shot of the Magnolia Springs Fire Department. A set of dumbbells and sparring pads were in the corner, and on the nightstand, a jar of chocolate-covered body paint.

Heat filled Colby's cheeks, both at the memory and the realization that Emma could've seen it. She picked it up to stash it, then hesitated. With a glance at the closed door, she slowly turned the lid.

The smell was just as delicious, just as enticing, as the night at the hotel. Sliding her finger around the rim of the jar, Colby stole a taste as she climbed onto Jason's bed and lay back against the pillows. As she'd hoped, they smelled like him-cinnamon and soap. The combination mixed with chocolate made her lightheaded.

She'd almost lost Jason tonight.

The irony, of course, was that she'd lost him the night before. Jason had held her hand and chased away the ghosts of her past, and all he'd asked for in return was her trust. And she hadn't even given him that.

After sealing the lid on the jar, Colby reached into her purse and yanked out the letters Cane had given her. During their extended visit to McDonald's, she had finished the letter from her mother. Walking out of the bathroom stall in her cat pajamas blubbering had terrified the little girl washing her hands, but she couldn't help it. Reading her mother's words from beyond the grave had been a game changer. Because, as it turned out, Colby had been wrong.

Her mother had known about the affair. The letters were apparently part of an exercise they did for marriage counseling. Her mom wrote that her dad had confessed his infidelity and begged her for forgiveness. They'd begun married life again with a fresh slate, happier than ever before. In the letter, she said that the world was filled with beautifully imperfect souls deserving of love, and her father was one of them.

Those words had kick-started the waterworks.

But her mother's ending line was what triggered Colby's bathroom breakdown: Don't be afraid to love, Colby-girl. Love never gives up.

The last part came from her favorite bible verse. Every time one of them had tattled or complained about another, their mother's reply had always been to quote 1 Corinthians 13. And for Colby to read that verse after she had given up on the man she loved-a man who lay battered and bruised in a hospital bed a mile down the road-it had simply been too much. She hadn't had tears left to make it through the letter from her father.

But reading it now, alone in Jason's room, seemed more fitting anyway.

"Time to get up, sleepyhead!"

"Aarrrggghhh." Emma dove under her pillow, mumbling about happy morning people. It almost made Colby laugh, considering no one in the history of forever had applied that label to her before. But today was a new day. In more ways than one.

"I've got homemade beignets," she tempted, prodding Emma in the side with a spoon. "And they are scrumptious, if I do say so myself. We're bringing a batch to your dad, so come on, chica. Up, up, up!"

With that, Colby left the girl's room, giggling to herself. Apparently, all it took for her to be the rise-and-shine-with-a-smile type was a severe lack of sleep, a good old-fashioned sugar rush, and her entire life being overhauled.

Her talk with Cane, discovering the letters from her parents, and almost losing Jason, had put everything into perspective. She awoke this morning a new woman. Or at least one with a new mindset. She'd made mistakes in her life and she had regrets-too many to count-but her father had loved her. He'd kept her ap.r.o.n. In his letter, he apologized for not being her hero, and then said that even though she had failed to show it, he never once doubted that she loved him, too.

Colby couldn't change the past. But the future was a whole different story.

In Jason's room, she tucked her parents' now wrinkled letters inside her purse with a contented smile. She was going to be okay. And now that phase one of her plan to win Jason back was complete, there was only one thing to do before she went to get her man: decide on her wardrobe. Should she go with choice a) the totally fashionable, day-old cat pajamas, or choice b) something of Jason's?

She glanced in the mirror and nodded. Jason's.

Dressed in a MSFD t-shirt that smelled like his aftershave and a pair of workout shorts rolled about a bazillion times, she emerged from Jason's room to greet a yawning, shuffling Emma. "Morning, sunshine."

The girl rubbed her eyes and shot Colby a look as they padded into the kitchen. "You're two seconds away from humming a show tune, aren't you?"

Colby laughed as she loaded a plate with beignets, dusted them a second time with powdered sugar, and slid the plate across the island. "I shall attempt to contain the perkiness while you eat," she said with a wink.

"That's all I ask," Emma replied, taking a huge bite of a fried doughnut.

As Jason's daughter made yummy noises, Colby set to work cleaning the mess she'd made that morning. Then she packed the rest of the beignets for the hospital. She knew it might be too late. Jason could have decided she was a head case after all and he was better off without her. But she wasn't leaving that hospital room until she'd put herself out there and, for once in her life, put her heart on the line.

At exactly ten past nine, their time slightly delayed by traffic, Colby and Emma walked back through the sliding door to Northsh.o.r.e Hospital. Her ratty slippers glided over the smooth linoleum as they made their way to the elevator. She was sure she looked a mess, but Jason had witnessed every one of her awkward stages growing up and had even seen her naked. A mismatched wardrobe was the least of her concerns today.

When they reached his floor, Colby's heart began to pound. Two doors down, she lost feeling to her feet. And just outside his door, she forgot the pretty speech she'd spent all night rehearsing. Emma scrunched her nose as she curled her hand around the handle. "You're coming in, right?"

Hugging the bag containing her peace offering, she nodded. "Most definitely."

This time when they walked into his room, Jason was awake. And he wasn't alone. Sharon and the Chief were seated along the left side of the bed, apparently not having fallen victim to the traffic. Colby's nervous stomach flipped. But then she got a good look at her captain, and suddenly she could care less if the whole hospital wanted to listen in on her groveling. Lying above the covers in track pants and a t-shirt, hair damp from a shower and feet wonderfully bare, Jason looked good enough to eat. And when he halted his channel-flipping to stare at her in obvious surprise, eyes raking over her body draped in his clothes, Colby half-wished she'd brought the jar of chocolate body paint from the nightstand.

"Daddy!"

Emma ran to the side of his bed, and Jason blinked as he shifted his attention to his daughter. "Bug!" He raised an arm slowly and said, "Be gentle. A house kicked your old man's b.u.t.t yesterday, but I desperately need a hug from my girl."

Easing a knee onto the bed, she crawled beside him. He put his arm around her and closed his eyes tight. "I love you so much, Emma. I'm so sorry."

Sharon grasped her husband's hand and placed her other on Emma's head.