Chapter 12: Chapter 11

I watched her from the moment her vehicle hit the drive. It was like I had some damn radar for Rhodes. One I couldn’t turn off, no matter how hard I tried.

So, I watched through the soot-stained window like some sort of creeper as she stopped to talk to Owen, Silas, and Carlos. I watched as Silas tried his most charming smiles on her, but none of it worked. Rhodes brushed him off in a way that told me she’d done it countless times before. And while Silas took it in stride, Owen looked pissed the hell off as they all headed for their trucks.

But I didn’t stop watching her.

My gaze tracked Rhodes as she parked in front of her guest cottage. As she climbed out of her SUV and helped the dog out of the back seat. Even the damn dog looked up at her adoringly.

There wasn’t a person who crossed Rhodes’ path that didn’t seem transfixed by her. It only annoyed me more that I’d become one of the horde.

My back teeth ground together, but I didn’t look away.

Rhodes slowed as she reached her front door, not pulling out keys or anything else. She just stared down.

I lifted my hand, scrubbing at the glass with my palm. The soot barely shifted.

Rhodes bent down and picked something up. A prickle of unease, that sixth sense I had, skated over me. I was moving toward the side door of the house before I even had reason to.

The moment I stepped outside, I ripped off the N95 mask I’d been wearing to protect my lungs from any toxins the fire had left behind, keeping my eyes locked on Rhodes. Her shoulders rose and fell in rapid succession, but the movements were shallow.

Shoulder breathing instead of from her diaphragm. Her skin was pale, and she wobbled just a bit.

Fuck.

I picked up speed. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good.

I reached the front porch just as Rhodes’ knees buckled. I dove forward, catching her before she hit the wooden planks.

But it was as if Rhodes didn’t even register the action. Her breaths rushed in and out so fast I knew she wasn’t getting the oxygen she needed. If she didn’t slow her breathing, she would end up passing out.

Slowly, I lowered us both to the porch, leaning against the railing as I held Rhodes against me. The dog’s gaze went back and forth between us. I expected him to snarl or even lunge; instead, he let out a keening sound. He knew something was wrong.

“Rhodes,” I said, my voice gruff. It held a command that I hoped would break through her panic.

Her head turned so she looked in my direction, but her eyes were glassy and unfocused. I knew she wasn’t really seeing me.

I cupped the side of her face. Her skin felt incredibly soft, so in opposition to my torn and callused palms. “Look at me,” I ordered.

Rhodes blinked, her eyes still unfocused, but I could tell she was trying to come out of it. Attempting to fight.

“You need to slow your breathing,” I told her.

Nothing about Rhodes’ breathing changed. If anything, it worsened.

I let out a stream of curses. If she didn’t slow down, she’d end up unconscious for sure. I threaded my fingers through her hair, pulling it tight. Another sensation for her to focus on, something other than panic.

Rhodes blinked again, her eyes flicking back and forth as she registered the tug on her hair.

“That’s it,” I encouraged. “You feel that? That means you’re here. Feel the wood beneath you. Feel me.”

Rhodes shifted as if feeling the things around her for the first time.

I kept up the tiny pulls and releases on her hair. “You’ve got this. I want you to follow me. Breathe in for four.”

I squeezed her arm in a one, two, three, four beat.

“Now, hold it in for a count of seven.”

I counted off seven in the same way.

“Now, out for eight. Nice and slow. Don’t let the air out all at once.”

My hand counted off for her again.

Rhodes couldn’t last the full eight, but her breathing became slower overall. I started us back at the beginning and walked her through it four more times before her eyes truly focused on me.

She blinked a few times, finally taking me in. “Anson?”

Rhodes was confused and didn’t seem to know how she’d gotten where she was or what had happened.

I tugged my fingers from her hair, instantly missing the feel of the silky strands. “Gotta stop meeting like this, Reckless.”

“I— What happened?” she asked as the dog licked her hand.

“You tell me. Saw you through the window. You picked something up and then started having a panic attack.”

Rhodes looked up at me. “How’d you know it was a panic attack?”

The truth nearly slipped from my lips, but I caught it just in time, grunting instead. “Know the signs.”

She frowned at me, something telling her that wasn’t the whole truth.

“What’d you pick up?” I pressed, steering her away from me but also toward the information I needed.

Rhodes’ head jerked at that, and she pushed off me, scanning our surroundings. Her gaze stopped on something a few feet from us. She leaned over and snatched it up. “I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it.”

I looked down at the piece of paper. No, the photograph. The corners were curled, and the image was warped. Black soot smeared it in places. But you could still make out the people in the picture.

Something about the woman was familiar. Her dark, wild hair and tanned skin. But I stopped dead on the eyes. They were so similar to the ones that had haunted my thoughts for the past week—that mossy green with flames of golden fire throughout.

That had me quickly scanning the rest of the photo and landing on a girl. She couldn’t be more than twelve in the shot, but the wildness and recklessness were still there. A living, breathing thing that made Rhodes more real than anyone I’d ever met.

“It’s my family,” she whispered.

My gut churned. I knew Rhodes had been a foster placement with the Colsons, but that was it. There weren’t typically good reasons for ending up in foster care, but I hadn’t let myself wonder why she’d been put there. Because I hadn’t wanted to think about Rhodes at all.

Every thought that worked its way into my brain held a price I couldn’t pay. So, I’d done everything I could to keep her out. I couldn’t let myself care. Not in any way.

I’d turned away from her. Hadn’t wanted to see her pain. And what an asshole that made me.

But now, I couldn’t ignore it. Not as Rhodes stared down at the distorted picture, agony in her hazel eyes.

“What happened to them?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Now that I truly saw her, a desperate need to know more coursed through me. A need to understand all the pieces that came together to create the woman before me.

Those captivating hazel eyes flashed in surprise. “Shep didn’t tell you?”

Another prickle of unease skated over me. “No.”

Rhodes’ throat worked as she struggled to swallow, her gaze shifting to the Victorian. “This was my house.” She traced the structure with her eyes as if filling in the burned parts from memory. “Until it wasn’t.” She bit down on her lip, and I struggled to keep from pulling the flesh out of her teeth’s clutches. “They didn’t make it out of the fire.”

Fuck.

No, I needed a word a hell of a lot stronger than fuck. But I wasn’t sure the English language had one.

Everything shifted, like one of those tricky images within a picture. You thought you’d figured it out, but then your vision changed, and everything came into crystal-clear focus.

The request to rehab instead of gut the place and start fresh. Rhodes’ need to go into the house while no one was around. The way Shep tiptoed around her and constantly checked in. Rhodes was facing her demons here.

My gut twisted. “Where were you when the fire happened?”

I didn’t offer her platitudes or I’m sorries. Because none of that did any good. It didn’t comfort. It didn’t ease. Nothing could. Not in the face of that kind of loss.

Rhodes didn’t turn away from the house. “In my bedroom.”

A fresh slew of curses slid through my brain. “You got out.”

I wasn’t sure why I said it; she obviously had if she was sitting here today. But the words somehow reassured me it was true.

Rhodes nodded shallowly. “Tried to climb down the drainpipe outside my balcony. It worked until the fire exploded a window and me with it.”

Everything in me stilled. Everything except my eyes. They tracked over her, searching for any signs of the injury. It was then that I saw it. The slightest bit of scarring peeking out from the shorts that stopped at mid-thigh. Shorts that had been taunting me this past week. I’d been so caught up in trying to ignore the toned legs that I’d missed something I never would’ve at any other time.

The proof of her agony had been everywhere, and I hadn’t seen it because I’d been so caught up in my bullshit. The skin was no longer red. It was a kaleidoscope of tan and pale. It looked as if her skin had been painted in staccato brush strokes.

“I don’t try to hide them,” Rhodes said coolly.

My gaze jumped from her leg to her face. My eyes locked with those haunting hazel ones, something I’d been trying to avoid. But I didn’t look away. “Good.”

My voice was rough, even to my ears. It sounded like I’d just chain-smoked half a pack and chased it with whiskey.

Rhodes’ eyes flared in surprise.

“You shouldn’t hide a damned thing, Reckless. Especially not something that proves how strong you are.”

She stared at me for a long moment. Something passed between us. Some sort of understanding without words. Finally, Rhodes shoved to her feet. I followed, reaching out to steady her as she wobbled.

“I’m good,” she promised.

I didn’t call her a liar, even though she was. I glanced down at the photo. “Who left it for you?”

Rhodes frowned. “What do you mean?”

My jaw worked back and forth. “You didn’t leave it for yourself, I’m assuming. So, someone else had to.”

She glanced back to the house. “Probably one of the crew. Most of them grew up around here and know the story. They probably figured I’d want it but didn’t want to give it to me directly. It’s not like most of them are great with the feelings stuff. Tears terrify them.”

Rhodes was trying to joke about it, but something didn’t sit right with me. The area of the house we were currently working on was completely burned out. There were no photos that weren’t entirely ash. So, someone must have nosed around before we started the work. I hadn’t seen a single soul over at the guest cottage after we started at nine. But things were busy enough that I could’ve missed it.

Rhodes’ eyes narrowed on me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I clipped. “You need to go inside and eat. Think you can stay upright long enough to do that?”

Instead of being annoyed with me, Rhodes just smiled. It was far too wide for the situation.

“What are you doing?”

“You like me.”

My whole body stiffened. “I do not.”

Rhodes’ smile only widened more, making the gold in her eyes spark and swirl. “Do, too.”

“What are you, five?” I snapped.

She laughed, and the sound hit me somewhere in the vicinity of my chest, digging in and spreading through me. That pins-and-needles sensation you got when a numb limb finally regained feeling. I fucking hated it.

“Anson.” Her tongue wrapped around my name in a languid stroke. “If you hated me, you would’ve left me alone in my panic attack. You would’ve ignored the fact that I was hurting. But you didn’t. You helped. You’re not the bad guy you want people to think you are.”

The pins-and-needles feeling intensified until it was just shy of pain. “You don’t know me,” I croaked.

Something passed over Rhodes’ expression. “No, I don’t. But I’d like to. Because I think you could use a friend.”

Friend.

The urge to scoff was so strong. Friends wasn’t something I could be with Rhodes. For many reasons. A friend didn’t think about shoving the other against a wall and driving into them so hard they couldn’t breathe. A friend didn’t imagine wrapping the other’s hair around his fist as he fucked her mouth. A friend didn’t picture what the other would look like sprawled across his sheets while he ate her until she screamed.

“Anson?” Rhodes said, breaking into my spiraling thoughts.

“Go inside, Reckless.” That rasp was back, but this time, it wasn’t pain lacing my tone. It was need.

Her brows pulled together. “Are you⁠—?”

“Inside.” My command wasn’t harsh. I couldn’t find it in me to push her away in that manner anymore. Not when I knew the truth about what she’d been through.

As if Rhodes saw that I was at my breaking point, she nodded slowly and tugged the dog toward the door. But as she slipped her key inside the lock, she turned. “Thank you, Anson.”

Hearing her say my name was the most beautiful kind of torture.

I didn’t reply. Didn’t trust what might come out of my mouth.

Finally, Rhodes turned back and opened the door, slipping inside with her faithful companion. I stood there for a moment, unable to move. A deep woof from inside finally spurred me into motion. The last thing I needed was to still be standing here if Rhodes came back outside.

I stalked off the porch and headed down the driveway. I pulled my keys out of one pocket and my phone out of the other. While I beeped the locks on my truck, I tapped a few icons on the screen of my phone. I hit my favorites list. It was embarrassingly short. Shep topped it, being the person I talked to the most. Followed by my friend, Lawson, who had refused to let me disappear from his life. He’d blackmailed me into bi-monthly check-ins, telling me if I didn’t answer, he’d come to Sparrow Falls for proof of life. And lastly, a contact at the bureau. I hadn’t used that one in over a year.

I hit Shep’s name. He picked up on the second ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

“You don’t call unless something’s wrong,” Shep defended. “Unless you’ve suddenly developed a taste for pleasant chitchat.”

“Fuck off,” I muttered.

“You called me,” he shot back.

Fair enough. I worked my jaw back and forth. “Why didn’t you tell me the house belonged to Rhodes’ family?”

Shep was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t hide it. I just figured it wasn’t something you’d want to hear about.”

He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t exactly been champing at the bit to hear others’ sob stories. I’d been too caught up in mine. Couldn’t handle feeling any more pain. God, it was time to pull my head out of my ass. “Well, it might’ve kept me from stepping in it if I’d known.”

“What’d you do?” Shep demanded.

“I didn’t do anything. But someone left a picture of Rhodes and her family on the guest cottage’s front porch. She had a panic attack.”

“Hell,” Shep muttered. “Where is she now? Is she okay? I’m on my way.”

“Take a breath,” I ordered.

“You just told me my sister had a panic attack,” he growled.

“She’s okay,” I assured him. Even if that wasn’t the case, at least not entirely, I knew Rhodes would get there. She was too tough not to. “Walked her through a breathing exercise, and she was able to get through it.” I left out the part about me catching her. Holding her. Even though the memory was burned in my brain.

The sound of an engine starting up came over the line. “Thanks, man. I know⁠—”

“She matters to you. I wasn’t going to walk away.” But that wasn’t entirely true. I hadn’t run across the gravel drive because of some sense of duty to Shep. I’d charged over because I couldn’t stand the thought of Rhodes in pain or danger. And that meant I was screwed.

I hurried to change the line of conversation. “You need to have a word with the crew. No more surprise gifts.”

“I will,” Shep clipped. “I’m sure they thought they were doing the right thing, but…hell, she wasn’t ready for that.”

Endless questions filled my mind. My profiler brain wanted to put all the pieces of the story together, but I had no right to a lot of those pieces. I stuck with the ones that were fair game. “It was electrical, right?”

“Yeah,” Shep said, his blinker sounding in the background. “Someone on the fire crew found frayed wiring while doing cleanup. An antique lamp that never should’ve been plugged in.”

My jaw clenched, the muscles along it popping. A damn lamp. A piece of decoration someone had bought because they thought it added character. Something they never would’ve done if they’d known what it was capable of.

I cleared my throat. “She said she was hurt in the fire.”

Shep went quiet again. I couldn’t tell if it was because of surprise or him taking time to choose his next words carefully. “She was in the hospital for a month. Skin grafts, rehab, the works. Toughest person I know, fighting through that kind of pain.”

An invisible fist shoved against my chest. Twisted. “How old was she?”

“Just turned thirteen.”

So damn young. Way too young to endure that kind of loss and trauma. But I knew better than most that the Universe didn’t pull any punches when it came to pain. It could lash out when you least expected it. And take out the most undeserving in its wrath.