Beautiful Sacrifice - Page 71/75

“I just heard. Any news?” I asked, trying not to panic.

She released me and shook her head, wiping her nose with a tissue she had tucked in her palm. “Nothing. We arrived just after seven. Tyler drove like a maniac. He’s out there with the crews, looking for them.”

I hugged her. “I know they’re okay.”

“Because they have to be.” She held me at bay, forcing a brave smile. “I heard about the baby. First Maddox grandbaby. Jim’s ecstatic.”

My face fell.

“Oh God. Oh, no. Did you … are you not pregnant anymore?”

I stared at her, utterly confused and horrified. She mirrored my expression.

“You’re right,” she said. “This isn’t the time. Let’s go sit. Trex is getting updates every half an hour from his people.”

“His people?”

Ellison shrugged. “I don’t know. He just said his people.”

We sat together on the couch in the lobby, surrounded by firefighters, hotshots, and various officials. As the night wore on, the crowd thinned.

My eyes felt heavy, and every time I blinked, it seemed more difficult to open them again. The desk clerk brought us coffee and a plate of doughnuts, but neither Ellison nor I touched the food.

Trex came over, sitting in the chair adjacent to our sofa.

“Any word?” Ellison asked.

Trex shook his head, clearly disheartened.

“What about the rescue team?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Trex said. “I’m sorry. My guys only give visual confirmation, and they haven’t seen anyone in an hour. The helos are up with spotlights, but the smoke is making it difficult to see.” He glanced back at the desk clerk and then shook his head. “I’m going to call them in ten minutes. I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything.”

Ellison nodded, and then her attention was drawn to the entrance.

Taylor walked in, his skin caked in dirt and soot. He removed his bright blue hard hat, and I stood, my eyes instantly filling with tears.

I leaned forward, my body half-frozen, half-screaming at me to run to him.

Ellison jumped out of her seat and rushed past me, throwing her arms around him.

It wasn’t Taylor but Tyler. I’d only felt that much devastation one other time in my life—the moment Olive was pulled from my arms.

Matching clean streaks ran down Tyler’s cheeks as he hugged Ellison, shaking his head.

“No,” I whispered. “No!”

Tyler rushed over to me. “Taylor’s crew was cut off when the fires converged. It’s possible that they could have backed themselves into a cave, but … the temperatures are … it doesn’t look good, Falyn. I tried. They dragged me out. I’m sorry.”

He hugged me, and my hands fell limp at my sides.

There were no tears, no pain, no waves of emotion. There was nothing.

And then my knees buckled, and I wailed.

By morning, Ellison was lying on Tyler’s lap, asleep, while he sipped his fourth cup of coffee. His eyes had been glued on the television screen, just like mine.

Fresh crews came downstairs, ready for a second search-and-rescue mission. Tyler’s team had all trudged in and gone upstairs to catch what sleep they could.

Trex stood at the desk with the woman who had brought us coffee all night. His team had turned in two hours before, waiting until daylight before resuming their air search.

I stood, and Tyler’s eyes followed.

“I have to go to work,” I said. “I can’t sit here anymore. I have to stay busy.”

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, like Taylor would when he was upset or nervous. “I’ll let you know the moment I hear something.”

“Are you going back out?” I asked.

“I’m not sure they’ll let me. I might have punched one or two people before they removed me from the area.”

“He’s your brother. They’ll understand.”

Tyler’s eyes glossed over, and his bottom lip trembled. His head fell forward, and Ellison touched his shoulder, whispering words of comfort.

I made my way out to the parking lot, moving in slow motion.

The drive to the Bucksaw was a blur. I had no thoughts. I didn’t cry. Everything was automatic—breathing, braking, turning.

My parking spot was taken, so I parked elsewhere, but by the time I stepped onto the tiles of the dining area, I had forgotten where.

I shuffled across the floor in the same clothes I’d worn the day before, my apron still tied around my waist.

“Dear Jesus,” Phaedra said, rushing over and hooking her arm behind me. She escorted me to the kitchen. “Any word?”

Kirby burst through the swinging doors, covering her mouth when she saw me. Chuck, Hector, and Pete stopped what they were doing and stared.

“Nothing. They forced Tyler to … they called off the search just after midnight. They headed out again this morning.”

“Falyn,” Kirby said, “have you slept?”

I shook my head.

“All right. Kirby, there’s a bottle of pills in my bag, point five milligrams. Bring it upstairs. C’mon, baby girl, you’ve got to sleep.”

I slinked out of Phaedra’s grip. “I can’t. I have to work. I have to stay busy.”

Chuck shook his head. “Honey, you’re in no state to wait tables.”

“Then Kirby and I can trade for the day.” I pleaded with Kirby with my eyes.

Kirby waited for Phaedra’s approval.

“Falyn—” Phaedra began.

“Please!” I screamed, closing my eyes. “Please. Just let me work. I can’t go upstairs and lie in that bed alone, knowing he’s out there somewhere.”

Chuck nodded to his wife, and then she dipped her head.

“All right. Kirby, you’re on server duty. I’ll help.”

Kirby pushed through the double doors, going straight over to the tables. I tended to the hostess station, bussing tables and cleaning the floor between customers.

A family came in—a father with tattoo sleeves on both arms, the mother with no tattoos, and two girls and a boy, all three kids under six. The youngest, maybe six months, was snuggled against his mother in a Boba Wrap as he slept, and I choked back the unexpected emotions that seeing him induced.

I seated them at the back table where Taylor had been seated for the last two months and handed them menus. “Kirby will be your server this morning. Enjoy.”