Page 60 of Saving Shepperd

It reassured me that he was being so open about the care they were getting and was still grounded enough to joke about it.

“Well, if you ever need anything, just say the word,” I offered, not really knowing what more to say.

Finally, a guest ushered the paramedics through the house, and Jake flagged one down. “We’ve got two little ones with PTSD in a bedroom in the back and two females in the same condition. This young lady here, who I’m pretty sure is in shock, and her sister in another bedroom who is presenting much the same way right now.”

“Okay, thanks. You are?” the first responder questioned.

“Jacob Cole. Masterson.” He added our family name almost as an afterthought, but we’d all experienced the power of being from a prominent family. There were times you just used it to your advantage.

“My name is Logan, and I’m the scene captain. I need to sweep the property and see if there are any other injuries. Since these ladies are stable and in safe conditions, I need to triage all identified patients and then we’ll decide to treat here or transport. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Jake answered. “Let me show you the little ones and the other woman before you head outside.” My brother didn’t wait for Logan to agree. He just started off toward the bedrooms, and the EMT followed.

I knelt on the floor beside her and stroked the sooty hair back from her face. “How are you doing?” I asked gently.

The vacant stare I got in response should’ve alarmed me but didn’t. This was the first time she turned in my direction—however slight it might have been—when I spoke to her. She didn’t say anything, though. Just blankly fixed on some point on my face. Still, it was better than no response at all.

“Are you warming up? Looks like the tremors have eased up a bit,” I said and kissed her forehead. “The paramedic is checking the kids first, then is going to have a look at you. Your hands are pretty torn up,” I rambled, hoping she was hearing me despite the empty gaze I was getting in return.

She was scaring the shit out of me, but I tried to stay calm. There was a voice in the back of my mind sounding a lot like what I assumed a past version of me sounded like. Asking questions I didn’t want to examine at the moment but could still hear them.

Is this what life would always be like with this woman? Will she always be one step away from a breakdown? Is a relationship with her worth all the drama?

Present day me was annoyed with that voice. Was I really that shallow before meeting Shepperd? Or was I that selfish? Just because a person struggled with some mental health issues didn’t make them unworthy of love and companionship. There were a lot of personal growth points in there to dig deeper into, but this wasn’t the time or place.

There were things I was sure about. If I wasn’t before this afternoon’s pandemonium, I certainly was now. Not being able to find Shepperd when the fire broke out terrified me. In those few short moments that she was missing, a sense of fear and panic completely took over. I didn’t want to lose her. I was sure of that.

Seeing her frozen in panic broke my heart. She ended up in a much more dangerous situation because she lacked the ability to function in crisis because of what some asshole predator did to her when she was a girl.

She deserved to live a safer, happier life than that. And I wanted to be a part of that life. I was completely sure of that too.

ChapterSeventeen

Shepperd

As my senses began to come back online, I felt a chaotic mix of emotions. While going through the comedown, the last place I wanted to be was at a stranger’s house. I still wasn’t one hundred percent clear on what happened, but based on the aftermath around me, it was bad. Really, really bad.

All I could think above anything else was, “Please don’t let it turn out to be my fault.” And maybe that was selfish given the amount of upheaval I could plainly see around me, but, there you have it. I thought I had been holding up really well given the situation. And by that, I meant a party largely made up of people I didn’t know. The few I did know before today I wasn’t particularly fond of.

But then I found myself lying on the sofa in Law’s brother’s home with every pair of eyes on me as people milled in and out through the back door. I couldn’t bring myself to speak just yet or ask what happened in detail.

Before this fiasco—whether it seemed like a big accomplishment or not—I’d never set anything on fire to deal with my pain. But now, based on the way my hair smelled more like Santa’s Christmas Eve red-and-white-fur getup, that might no longer be the case.

Law was perched on the edge of the sofa in front of me but had his body twisted to keep a watchful eye. My first instinct was to shove him away—put space between our bodies physically. At the exact same time, I wanted to crawl into his lap and let him comfort me. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but at the moment, there wasn’t much around me that did.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said in a low, husky voice.

I gave him the best version of a smile and knew it was a pitiful attempt. If I looked anything like I smelled, he was crazier than me to have said that.

“How are you feeling?” He stroked some low-hanging hair off my forehead, leaned in slowly, and planted a soft kiss on the skin he just exposed.

He sat tall again, and I couldn’t imagine where to begin. Apologizing would probably be a solid start, so I inhaled and gave it my best shot.

“I’m so sorry,” I began but stopped abruptly in reaction to the alarm on his face.

“What are you apologizing for?” he asked immediately. He wasn’t angry, necessarily. Maybe frustrated, though.

“Did anyone get hurt?” I asked instead of answering his question.

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