Oh, she loved the responsibility—
Wait, not loved. Liked. A lot. She couldn’t fall in love with a guy on the first—okay, second—date. But the fact that he worried touched her anyway.
“You loved firefighting, didn’t you?”
He glanced at her; then a curious smile appeared on his face. “Yeah. I love the forest, and reading how a fire moves through it is fascinating to me. It’s like a battle, and you just have to outsmart the fire. But there are so many factors you can’t control—weather and wind. You have to always be thinking what it wants, where it wants to go.”
“You talk as if it’s alive.”
“It is. It breathes air, needs fuel to stay alive, is hungry for more.”
“But it takes a spark to get it going.”
“Right. And that’s what I’m hoping we can avoid. Because as much as I love fire, I don’t love it enough to wish it upon the beautiful forests. Forest fires are terrifying and dangerous, and I don’t miss the part where people could lose their homes or die.”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back to it?”
He shook his head. “That part of my life is over.” He said it in a way that sounded a little like he’d been punched in the chest, fighting to catch his breath.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at her again, gave her hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”
As they came closer to where the family had parked, they saw a crowd—nothing big, but a few people turned, watching something.
“Oh no,” Darek said.
“What?”
He dropped her hand and jogged up the beach. She couldn’t run in flip-flops, so she clambered after him. She worked her way in from the edge and then wanted to weep at what she saw.
Tiger stood in the middle, soaking wet and shivering, his lip fat and bleeding. Casper was wrapping the picnic blanket around him.
Darek knelt before his son, finished wrapping the blanket, then clutched Tiger tight to his chest. “Buddy, what happened?” Darek looked up at Casper as he asked, a darkness descending across his expression.
“I fell!” Tiger began to cry and Darek picked him up, held him in those big arms.
“He was climbing on the rocks, and even though I had ahold of him, he slipped, hit his mouth on the rock, and went in.”
“Dude,” Darek said, visibly trying not to raise his voice, “you shouldn’t have let him climb on the rocks.”
“What are you talking about? We did it our entire lives. Besides, he’s fine, aren’t you, champ?” He rubbed Tiger’s back; the little boy gave him a mournful look.
Ivy made her way to Darek. “I can walk myself home. I just live across the street behind the Footstep of Heaven.”
Darek glowered at Casper like he wanted to take his brother apart piece by piece.
“Meet us at the car, Son.” John Christiansen reached out for Tiger.
Darek seemed to hesitate, and Ivy was about to insist again that she could make it across the street on her own when Darek kissed the top of Tiger’s head and handed him over. “I’ll be right there.”
Tiger curled against his grandfather’s shoulder.
Darek caught Ivy’s hand without ceremony and headed toward the sidewalk.
“Darek, really. I’m a big girl.”
“My dad is trying to keep me from pummeling my brother.”
Oh.
Around them, families packed cars with coolers, blankets, folding chairs. Others hiked home, catching the hands of their children. Cars began to move down the street. Darek kept hold of her hand as they crossed between traffic. They walked in silence down the sidewalk for a moment, his face tight.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Yes, but Casper might not live through this,” he growled.
“It was an accident. Kids fall.”
He shook his head. “My son looks like he’s been beaten up. Between the stitches and fat lip . . . they’re going to call child protective services on me.”
She frowned at him. “No one is going to call CPS.”
But he wasn’t kidding, not by the grim look on his face. “You don’t know the Holloways.”
“Who?”
“Felicity’s parents. His grandparents. After she died, they sued me for custody but lost. Since then, they’ve accused me of negligence twice. I have to bring Tiger over on Sunday and . . . Oh, this is bad.”
His expression was so defeated that she took his face in her hands. Looked in his eyes and said what she’d said to herself every time a social worker appeared at the door. “Everything is going to be fine. No one is going to take Tiger away from you. You’re his father, and he’s a normal, rambunctious five-year-old boy. I don’t know the Holloways, but certainly they can see that.”