Page 45 of The Moments You Were Mine

I rubbed my chest. The ache inside it only grew.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Harring—Fallon,” Chuck said from my other side. His face was soot-covered as well, and he lookedcloser to tears than me.

“Thanks for the assist with the hoses, Chuck. You’ve been a big help. Why don’t you get cleaned up and head over to the ranch-hand house for some breakfast?”

The teen ducked his head, mumbled something incomprehensible, and shuffled off with his shoulders sloped as if the weight of the world was on him.

Before I could consider why it had hit him so hard, one of the firefighters approached. He had his massive gloves stuffed in the pocket of his Kevlar jacket, a helmet shoved under an arm, and a small plastic bag held in his free hand.

“Dad, Fallon.” He nodded at the two of us. It took me a moment to recognize Kurt’s son under the black coating his face. We’d gone to high school together. He’d been two years older than Maisey and me, but we’d all been friends.

“Thanks for getting here so quick, Beckett,” I said.

“We’ve had a cool summer up until this week, but things are dry. We were lucky there was relatively no wind today. Otherwise, the embers might have taken the barn and the other outbuildings before spreading to the fields and forest.”

Over the last few decades, California had been devastated by large, fast-burning fires, burning hundreds of thousands of acres, houses, and businesses. Beckett was right, the weather and their response time had made a difference today. We’d been lucky, even though it didn’t feel that way looking at the darkened timbers in front of me.

“What you got there?” Kurt nodded toward the bag.

Beckett handed it over to him, and I saw it held a black box with melted wires sticking out of the end.

“Timing device,” Beckett said, brows furrowing.

It took too long for me to understand what he was saying, and when it did, the pain in my chest grew exponentially.

“You’re saying someone did this on purpose?” My voice was hollow with grief.

“I’m afraid so. I placed a call to Sheriff Wylee. He’s on his way,” Beckett responded.

My legs buckled, and only Beckett’s and Kurt’s quick reactions prevented me from hitting the ground for the secondtime that morning.

A deep voice calling my name from the direction of the parking lot had me jerking out of their hold. Everything felt like it was in slow motion as I turned to see Parker weaving through firefighters, staff, and guests toward me.

How was he here?

He had Will’s son in his arms, and the picture they made racing across the blacktop was stunning—a hero rushing through smoke and crowds with a rescued kid in his arms. Parker’s black hair, wide shoulders, narrow waist, and steel-gray eyes only enhanced the mirage. Add a cape, and he’d be able to fly around the earth in a single bound.

As he got closer, Parker scanned me in that way he always did, cataloging me from head to toe, searching every inch for injury. Normally, it lit me up from the inside out. But now, the panicked concern I saw in his gaze caused the tears I’d barely held back to rush out.

Before I could take a step toward him, he’d reached me and pulled me into a fierce, one-armed hug. I buried my face into his chest and tried to hide the sob that escaped. His heartbeat thundered under my ear while Theo patted me, awkwardly smooshed between Parker and me.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” Parker’s deep voice was growly and dark.

I couldn’t respond. My throat was too clogged.

I didn’t know how or why he was here. At the moment, I didn’t care, because gathered in his arms was one of the rare places I’d always felt safe. And for most of my childhood, it was the only place I’d felt truly wanted. Maybe not as his girlfriend, but as a friend. As family. At least until I’d realized he was just one more person who saw me as a responsibility.

But none of that mattered now. All I cared about was that he was here.

That I’d needed him, and he’d appeared like I’d conjured him from a dream.

For days, I’d debated telling Dad about what had been happening at the ranch. The mutilated cow. The terrifying slide into the ditch when the tractor tire had been tampered with. But I’d known it would be selfish to call him. Dad would have comerunning when there was nothing he could do. As a teen, I would have wanted that—him simply showing up so I wouldn’t face more awful things alone—but as a grown-ass woman, I didn’t need Dad to come running.

Except, I’d needed someone. I’d needed Parker.

“Ducky?” Parker’s voice broke as the tears wracked my body, and my shoulders shook. When I still couldn’t answer, he sent his question to my foreman. “Kurt?”

“She’s not hurt, Parker. It’s just been a long few days.” Kurt’s voice was tired and drawn. “And like always, she’s tried to take it all on without showing a lick of weakness.”