Page 7 of From the Ashes (Redwood Bay Fire #2)

CHAPTER 7

Colt

“Mr. Ross! You made it!”

Nevaeh jumps off the climbing frame as I approach the playground, from just high enough that it makes my heart stutter for a second. But she barely stumbles as she hits the woodchip ground and then breaks into a run, throwing her arms around my middle like we’re long-lost friends.

“Hey, kiddo,” I say patting her shoulder as her mom and brother approach at a more reasonable pace. “You’re looking about a million times better than the last time I saw you.”

The little girl lets me go and beams up at me, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Thanks to you and Mr. Del. You’re my heroes!”

The mention of Zahir makes my heart stutter for a second time in as many minutes, but thankfully the rest of Nevaeh’s family reach where we’re standing.

“Thank you so much for meeting us here, Mr. Ross,” her mom says warmly. “On a Friday afternoon, too. I’m sure you’re very busy, but it means the world to Nevaeh.”

I shake my head. “Nowhere else I’d rather be,” I tell her truthfully. “And please, call me Colt.”

“Only if you’ll call me Elizabeth,” Mrs. Adams says with a chuckle.

“We made you your own rainbow cupcakes, Mr. Ross!” Nevaeh’s brother, Dashel, informs me as he tugs on the corner of my open shirt.

“But you already made me some!” I say, over-exaggerating my surprise. These kids are kind of infectious to be around.

Nevaeh wrinkles her nose. “Those got squished. You needed proper ones in a box.”

“They insisted,” Elizabeth says apologetically, but I shake my head.

“That’s so kind of you guys, really.”

“Come sit!” Dashel says as Nevaeh drags us to a bench.

“You can sit with my mom here, Mr. Ross,” she says seriously. “That way, you’ll have the best view of us on the monkey bars.”

I laugh as I sit where I’m told. “Yes, that’s very important,” I tell her with a nod.

Within seconds, I’ve got a fresh cake in my hand and the children have torn back into the heart of the playground, shrieking in delight as they naturally join in a game with a few other kids around their age.

“You have an amazing family,” I tell Elizabeth, feeling glad I texted her earlier in the week and set up this little meeting. Replacing the image of Nevaeh half-drowned on the beach with her gallivanting around the park is doing my soul a lot of good.

Elizabeth sniffs and I glance over, alarmed that she appears to be fighting back tears. “Thank you so much,” she whispers, reaching into her purse for a tissue. “They’re all I have now. Their daddy was deployed overseas but…like I said, it’s just us now. If I’d lost Nevaeh…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” I promise her as she takes a second to dab her eyes and blow her nose. “I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss. But Nevaeh’s fine. Look at her. She’s strong, like her mom.”

Elizabeth gives me a watery smile before taking a deep breath and regaining some of her composure. “Thank you. We lost my husband a couple of years ago. The pain has eased some. But seeing my baby girl unconscious like that has brought a lot of it back to the surface. I think it has for the kids in a way, too. They might not necessarily understand it, but I think that’s why Nevaeh has been so fixated on thanking you and Mr. Delacroix. Our little family has been through so much and, well, not to trauma dump on you, but I think having a male role model has been good for them, even if it’s just for a hot minute.” She huffs out a little laugh. “She calls you her guardian angel.”

Considering how much I’ve railed against the idea of having kids of my own, her words warm something inside of me.

“Honestly, I’m honored,” I tell her with a grin. “I’m not sure I’m much of a role model for anyone. But if baking some sparkly cupcakes gives her a sense of normalcy, I’m happy to eat them.”

I illustrate this by peeling back the cupcake casing to take a bite. I like that I can enjoy the small sugar rainbow on top without worrying if anyone’s going to think anything of it. Which is ridiculous. Kids should be able to enjoy rainbows whether they are about Pride or just something fun. So should adults. But I’ve been carrying this shame and fear around with me for a couple of decades and apparently it’s not so easy to just shake it off.

Logically, I know only a douchebag would concern himself about being seen with anything that could be misconstrued as ‘girly’ or ‘gay.’ But my father’s words ring in my ears as clearly as ever. As a corperate lawyer, I have to maintain a tough guy image.

As a human being who is secretly very fucking gay, I’m going to enjoy every single one of these damn cakes.

“Okay,” I say as I lick frosting off my lips. “Somehow not being flattened does make this taste better.”

We both laugh and watch the kids for a few moments. After a while, Elizabeth speaks again.

“You saved a life, Mr. Ross,” she says softly. “My husband would say that makes you a good role model if he were here. Don’t downplay that. There are plenty of people who wouldn’t have been paying enough attention to see my little girl going under. And others who would have turned away, letting someone else take care of the situation. Because of you, she’s still here. She can grow up and be anything she wants. She has options.”

I glance at her, the urge to insist that I’m not good. I’m a selfish coward. But this moment isn’t about me and my past sins. It’s about celebrating Nevaeh Adams and what is hopefully going to be a long life ahead of her.

I hold up my now empty and folded wrapper. “Well, if she wants to grow up and be a chef, I’d say she’s off to a good start.”

That breaks the somber mood between us as we laugh again. I watch Elizabeth beam with pride as she watches her daughter hold her son’s hand, helping him balance at the bottom of a climbing wall.

“So Mr. Delacroix was able to pass some squashed ones on to you?” Elizabeth asks, then rolls her eyes. “Of course he did. Otherwise, how would you have gotten my number and been able to text me?”

“Ah, it’s cool,” I assure her. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. I forget what day of the week it is half the time. Today’s Thursday, right?”

She laughs loudly, then immediately covers her mouth, like she’s not used to making that much noise these days. But she’s still grinning when she lowers her hand, which makes me glad.

“Mr. Delacroix said you two went to school together,” Elizabeth prompts, selecting a cupcake for herself from the box. “Or rather his partner did. But it felt like you hadn’t seen each other in a while?” Then she immediately shakes her head. “Sorry, that’s probably personal.”

I shrug. It is, but she would have no way to know just how personal or complicated our history really is. Besides, I relish the chance to talk about Zahir to someone. It’s been killing me bottling everything up.

“No, it’s fine,” I assure her, debating whether to indulge in a second cake. “We did go to high school together. We used to be really good friends. But I moved away for college, and we lost touch. Nevaeh brought us back together. So in a way, she’s my guardian angel, too.”

Elizabeth blinks and gives me a warm smile. “Well isn’t that just wonderful? So you two are hanging out again?”

“Ah, not exactly,” I say with a wince.

I should just shut my mouth. This nice lady has been through enough. She doesn’t need to hear my problems as well. But she’s looking at me expectantly, like she’s got all the time in the world for me, and it’s as if I can’t help myself. I’ve never let myself talk to anyone about this, and it suddenly feels like if I don’t unburden myself, I might just combust.

“It’s been so long now, it feels awkward,” I say, grossly simplifying the situation. “And it was my fault we stopped talking. I got too wrapped up in my new life. But since I’ve moved back into town, I’d like it if we could be friends again. I’m just not sure how to extend that olive branch. I’d do anything to make it right again between us, but I hurt him. I’m not sure if he’d want that or I even deserve to be given a second chance.”

I didn’t really mean to add that last part, and heat creeps up my neck as I wonder if I’ve said too much. I meant to make it seem like we were just friends. Maybe best friends but not…not boyfriends. That feels too dangerous to admit out loud.

But Elizabeth is looking animated, and she reaches out to grip my hand with hers. “We could take the pressure off and organize something more casual. Then you could test the waters and see where you stand.”

“We?” I repeat in amusement. From the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, I feel like I’ve gotten myself a co-conspirator.

As if to prove my point, she grins and nods. “The kids and I were planning on going back to the beach soon—maybe tomorrow even. I don’t want Nevaeh to become afraid of it. I was thinking of making a picnic, so why don’t I reach out and see if both the paramedics wanted to swing by and assure my baby girl that the water isn’t anything to be scared of.” She quirks an eyebrow. “And if you just happened to be with us, maybe you could talk to your old friend then?”

For a second, I just stare at her, a dopey smile on my face. “You’d really do that for me?” She nods and I shake my head. “Are you sure you’re not the lawyer? That’s pretty cunning.”

She shrugs. “If the last couple of years have taught me anything, it’s that you never know when life can take an unexpected turn. If you need help reconnecting with your friend, I’d be delighted to help facilitate that. It’s important to seize the day in case tomorrow takes the opportunity away from you.”

Her words are somber. However, she’s still smiling. I take a breath and puff out my cheeks, feeling torn.

Zahir was damned clear he didn’t want to see me again. But…it’s not a big town. The chances of us running into each other are high. Maybe if Elizabeth and her family are there as well as his colleague, he might not immediately storm off and give me a chance to properly apologize. That’s all I want. To tell him once and for all that I know I was an asshole and never should have treated him the way I did.

Elizabeth squeezes my hand. “He’s important to you, isn’t he? Even if you haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“Yeah,” I croak out, embarrassed at how my voice catches with emotion.

I don’t know what she might infer from that. Thirty-three years in the closet and I’m inches away from coming out to a near stranger. But if Elizabeth guesses anything, she doesn’t say so.

“That’s settled, then,” she says, waving at her kids who are paused at the top of the slide. “I’ll find out when he’s free, then we’ll plan a picnic.”

“This is slightly diabolical,” I say with a chuckle. “But, sure. Why not?”

“Life’s too short for regrets, Colt,” she tells me seriously. “That’s ‘why not.’ Now, do either of you have any dietary restrictions I should know about?”

Her no-nonsense mom style is like a much-needed hug. Very different to my own mother. I’m helpless against Elizabeth and her scheming.

So, okay, this is slightly manipulative. But if I just sit on my ass then nothing will get resolved. It’s not like I’m going to beg Zahir to forgive me or even see me again.

I would never dream that he’d want to take me back.

I don’t deserve that.

But this guilt is eating away at me now I’ve seen him again. It was much easier to ignore when he was on the other side of the country. But it’s obvious he’s still incredibly hurt by what I did. I don’t blame him, but I can’t sit back and do nothing either. I have to make it right. That’s the part of my job I do love. Seeing justice served. I have to do right by Zahir, even if he’s reluctant to let me.

So, yeah. Maybe we need one more meeting. It’s a free beach and he can turn around and leave the second he sees me if he wants to. I hope he’ll stay for a minute, though. Just long enough for me to say my piece. I’ll rehearse it this time, like a closing argument in court. I’ll be quick and concise, and then…

And then perhaps that really will be it. Perhaps we’ll spend the next however many years awkwardly avoiding each other in the grocery store. Perhaps we’ll actually never cross paths again. But at least I will have done everything in my power to convince Zahir that none of it was his fault. It was all on me. I didn’t present my case properly outside of the office. I just need one more chance to get the words out, and then I’ll shut up about it.

I’m like an addict jonesing for a final hit before committing to rehab. If I can see Zahir one last time, then perhaps I can find a way to let him go.

For good.