His to Defend (Lake Powell Firefighter Romance Book 2) Read online

  His to Defend

  Jewel Allen

  His to Defend

  Copyright © 2020 Jewel Allen

  Editing: Daniel Coleman

  Cover design: Anne-Marie Meyer

  Interior formatting: Jewel Allen

  First publication: September 2020

  No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations for critical articles and reviews. All rights reserved.

  The next book in the Lake Powell Firefighter Romance series is His to Rescue, Weston’s story. Subscribe to Jewel’s newsletter to get release alerts.

  Check out Jewel Allen’s books here. Read Gage’s prequel story in Saving the Captain.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Kennedy

  My four-year-old’s body burned with a fever as I carried her from my SUV into the ER, a blast of air cooling me from the late August heat.

  I looked over my shoulder at my six-year-old son Ben who was wearing his clothes still from the other day, straggling after me into the hospital foyer. Just like I had straggled in, in mine. I hadn’t even combed my hair today. Pulled it back into a plain black hair band. I was sure I looked like a mess, but frankly, I didn’t care.

  I just wanted my baby girl to get better.

  Evie’d had a fever for two days now, which worried me to death. I texted my husband about it a few hours ago, but when he didn’t answer, I made the decision to come in.

  My mouth twisted bitterly at the thought of Stratton co-parenting by text. I hardly saw him nowadays. He was preparing to test for battalion chief, which would be great for his career, I guess, in the long run. But man, at what cost? With daily prepping, his regular 48-hour firefighter captain shift, and taking on overtime shifts…it was all too much.

  I didn’t even have any energy left to cry anymore. I was plumb exhausted.

  He was here in the hospital somewhere. His platoon’s fire truck emblazoned with “Lake Powell Firefighters” was parked outside in the lot.

  A blonde woman looked up from the check-in desk. She looked vaguely familiar. Page, AZ, was a small tourist town. There was a hint of recognition in her eyes.

  “Hi.” She smiled. “Kennedy Mulder, right?”

  She probably knew me because of my husband. As a firefighter, he was a regular here.

  I nodded.

  Her glance flicked to my daughter. “Poor thing not feeling good?”

  “No.” I adjusted her posture in my arms. “She’s had a fever for the past two days.”

  In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a hulking guy in firefighter uniform. He came to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway.

  “Hey, Mrs. M,” Weston said. He flashed an easy smile. He was Navajo and good-looking to boot. The receptionist eyed him with interest. A couple of nurses paused to give him a once-over before turning the corner.

  My body relaxed. It was nice to see a friendly face. “Hi.”

  He did a double-take, taking in my disheveled state and Evie. “Little one sick?” When I nodded, he offered, “Would you like me to get the captain for you? He’s here somewhere.”

  “That would be great.” I adjusted Evie’s weight against my hip.

  The receptionist cleared her throat, and I returned my attention to her.

  “If you’ll wait just a few minutes, I can get her seen. Unfortunately, it’s been kind of crazy around here, but we will call you in as soon as the doctor is ready for you.

  “Thank you.” I ambled over to the waiting area. Ben made a beeline for a basket of children’s books.

  As I sat, my body melted into exhaustion. Every bone, every fiber was plain stinking tired. Most days I could hold it all together. But today, right this moment, I couldn’t. I was so fed up with single parenthood. Because that’s what I had going, despite being married to Stratton.

  No one would believe that Stratton was an absentee father. Everyone worshipped the ground Stratton walked on. As captain of a fire platoon, he played hero. To everyone else…but his family.

  I must have sat there for a good ten minutes, Evie continuing to burn against my body. Just when I was about to check in with the receptionist, Weston appeared again, beaming.

  “Found him for you. He came out of a room and he’s right around the corner.”

  We hadn’t been called yet. I could say a quick hi. It would be good to remind myself how my husband looked like.

  My body rebelled for a second. It wanted to simply sit there, but Weston’s enthusiasm was infectious. I stood, regained my balance, and walked toward the station’s rescue specialist. Six-year-old Ben followed me like a good boy.

  As I turned the corner, I stopped cold, Ben bumping into my hip. In the middle of the hallway, my husband embraced a nurse in dark green scrubs.

  Chapter Two

  Stratton

  In my defense, what Kennedy stumbled upon was purely innocent.

  Yes, I was semi-hugging Shanna, one of the nurses. Yes, I had my head on her shoulder. And yes, that all looked bad, even if it took place in a few seconds. She had hugged not just me, but all of our platoon members.

  All this came down on a rough day of losing yet another drowning victim.

  The day started out fairly chill, working out at the station, going on some mild EMT calls, cramming an hour into studying for the battalion chief test I was slated to take in five months.

  And then boom. A call to the lake at midday. A kid had been swimming around his family’s houseboat. Too many kids had been running around and swimming that they didn’t notice their friend Johnny wasn’t anywhere to be found until it was too late.

  “Cap,” Weston’s voice cut through my brief lean against Shanna. “The Mrs. is here.” His eyes were wide and worried.

  My head whipped up and over my shoulder. Kennedy stood there with our kids in tow, Evie in her arms and Ben was peeking from behind her. I blinked to get my bearings. I hadn’t seen them in what felt like forever. Two days ago, I started my shift, and there was overtime somewhere there too.

  I could sense Kennedy’s fury clear down the hallway.

  Then she made a U-turn, bolted round the corner and out of sight.

  Shanna pushed me away gently and patted my chest. “Go see your family, Strat,” she said.

  Guilt and annoyance flared inside me. Why was she pointing out the obvious? And why did she have that patronizing tone, like we were something more than colleagues in the frontlines?

  I would sort through those feelings later. First, I needed to tal
k to Kennedy. To tell her what, I didn’t know. Well, okay, to make it back into her good graces, even though I technically had done nothing wrong.

  “Kennedy,” I called out.

  She ignored me, walking fast with those lean long legs encased in sweats. Even when she was in her grungiest, she still looked to me like the most beautiful woman in the world.

  But that scowl she laid on me thick, that wasn’t very attractive.

  She had whirled around and hefted Evie on her hip with one arm, her other hand pulling Ben close to her. Ben watched me with fearful eyes. I made a mental note to play catch with him sometime soon. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with him lately. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with anyone else than the station lately.

  “How is she?” I asked.

  “Burning with a fever.” Kennedy’s voice was hard as steel.

  “Have you seen the doctor?”

  She shook her head, giving off an impatient vibe. “I was waiting when Weston called me over and said you were there. And you were. With that woman.”

  Her eyes bore into mine. I looked away, probably cementing my guilt.

  “You promised,” she said. In recent months, she had noticed that Shanna seemed particularly friendly. Kennedy made me promise to always maintain professional boundaries. Which I had honored since. But today, I slipped up.

  “We had a drowning call today. Lost a little boy.” My gaze flickered toward Ben. “He was a couple of years younger than our son. Shanna hugged everyone, including me, for a few seconds.”

  Kennedy’s posture didn’t change. The flint in her eyes remained hard.

  Early on in our marriage, she soothed me with her words, with her touch. Now, she appeared unmoved.

  I was watching my marriage implode right before my eyes, and I felt helpless to stop it.

  There was no time. Not in this hallway. Not when the receptionist announced Evie’s name and Kennedy had to go on to have our daughter seen. I wanted to hold my family as I had reminded myself to do so after today’s victim had to be taken off the ventilator. But I stood frozen there, watching Kennedy take care of our family single-handedly like she had the past month since I embarked on this battalion chief testing trajectory.

  Months? Years? I rubbed my neck. I was so tired. Tired of trying to balance everything; I might as well admit I couldn’t do it.

  But I wasn’t a quitter.

  I committed to testing for the next position available to me in my career, and if I quit now, I’d be letting everyone down, including my family. Another five months, and I could finish this whole ordeal.

  Five months sounded like a lifetime.

  The coldness in Kennedy’s eyes haunted me, and I knew there would be a day of reckoning. I prayed it wouldn’t be today.

  Chapter Three

  Kennedy

  I sat in the exam room with Evie on my lap and Ben on the chair beside me, numb.

  The anger that had consumed me at the sight of that home-wrecker and my husband had subsided somewhat, replaced by a forced indifference. I had no energy to get mad. I needed to get my daughter well. I listened to the doctor prescribe an antibiotic for an upper respiratory infection much like RSV.

  I could have sat there forever, trying to postpone life, but time was a-ticking. I thought back to the moment when I could have shown some humanity and compassion toward my husband and his difficult day.

  That was pretty much every day of his career, and today I simply had nothing extra to give him.

  Another failure to add to my ever-growing list of failures.

  I had instinctively known what we were up against as a couple, when we married ten years ago—I was 19, he was 29, the most eligible firefighter on the planet, I swear—but we were in love and I thought love overcame all things.

  But maybe—between kids and house and chores—even love wasn’t enough.

  I thanked the doctor and shepherded my kids out the exam room. I hoped and dreaded to run into Stratton, and sure enough, there he was walking toward us.

  For a moment, a wave of tenderness washed over me. How I missed him. I knew he was testing for a higher rank but my soul cried out for him every day he was gone. B.C. was like firefighter-life times ten. Times fifty, even. I knew he was also hurting inside, but how could we possibly bridge the gap that had yawned in such a rapid and mind-blowing pace the past few weeks?

  It would take more than clumsy explanations in the hallway, a hi and bye here and there, even actually having him home. I hated to sound doom and gloom but the odds in our favor were not very good.

  Despite everything, despite my own fevered desperate mental state, my pulse still leaped at the sight of Stratton. That rugged perpetual scruff that glinted with premature grays and his clean-cut look, that masculine physique in his firefighter shirt tucked against his rock-hard abs in those belted pants.

  His blue, blue eyes that never failed to make me feel flustered studied my face. “What did he say?”

  “She has a fever.”

  Amazingly enough, the mood lightened. I was aiming for sarcasm, but my words sounded like a joke. Heaven knew we both needed a good laugh. Something, anything to get us out of our mutual antagonism.

  “No kidding,” he said, his lips curling up in a sexy smile.

  About that time, I remembered that I looked far from a sexy housewife. “He said she has an upper respiratory infection and prescribed some antibiotics.”

  He nodded. “Glad it’s nothing more serious.”

  “It’s felt like it has been.” If it wasn’t a cry for help from someone drowning, I didn’t know what it was. He walked toward me slowly, making my breath catch in my throat when he placed a warm hand against my jaw, his thumb tracing my cheek gently.

  “We’ll get through this, love, I promise.”

  I wanted to believe him so much. I really did. But part of me wanted proof, right then and there, because I was frankly running on fumes and wasn’t seeing any positives in the whole situation.

  I wanted to lean into his hand and kiss his callused fingertips. I wanted to say his name softly and whisper my need. But we were in a public place and he needed to get back to his work and I needed to get the kids home.

  At least that was what I told myself when he withdrew his hand and tousled Evie’s hair. We were parents of these children, and sometimes their needs came first. Mine certainly didn’t make the list most days, but I was grown up and I could suck it.

  But it still didn’t prevent me from wanting to curl up like a little girl and have someone take care of me when we left my firefighter husband at that hospital.

  Once home, I stared with clear-eyed practicality at my—our—situation.

  I was 29 and a stay-at-home mom to these kids. I had been married for ten years to a firefighter who was also a great captain to his crew. We’d had amazing years together, but the past year had been kind of hellish, to be honest. My insecurities had surfaced, and I found ways to nitpick him and his associations from his work. Like Shanna.

  She could have been a Susie, or Lori, or Megan. Any number of women who either made a play consciously or subconsciously for my gorgeous and awe-inspiring husband. He wasn’t perfect—let’s not go that far—but he was certainly a hero to many people, including me.

  He saved me from myself when I didn’t think I needed saving, and I grew up under his firm guidance.

  That was probably the crux of the problem. I was still trying to find my place in the world while trying to raise our two kids by myself. And it wasn’t a pretty process.

  Away from the hospital, away from my husband’s presence and his gentle touch on my jaw, I was probably rushing into some stupid decision. But one that needed to be considered.

  What if I left him?

  What if we lived apart for a while?

  There. I had given voice to the questions that had been plaguing me the last little while.

  We wouldn’t divorce—not right away. If at all. But this…marriage, if you could call it that, cou
ldn’t keep going this way. I needed to put my foot down, to shake things up. He wanted to be battalion chief? Fine. He could do that while I found my own footing.

  Fear instantly clamped down on me, forcing me into paralysis.

  There was a laugh track as the thoughts rammed my brain.

  You don’t have a college degree, let alone any job prospects. You’ve only been a housewife these past six years. You sprang from your overbearing parents’ house into a home with Stratton and you have never lived by yourself, not to mention you will have two children dependent on you. How much money do you even have in your savings account? This isn’t just a game of Life, where you can take a little plastic car and traipse around a board collecting life tiles and winning or losing at the end. This could spell the end of everything you know.

  Or it could mean the start of something better.

  The kids were settled for the night. Evie was asleep in her crib. Ben was playing a video on his tablet. I moved into the bedroom I shared with Stratton. When was the last time we’d even slept together?

  Our current relationship was a shadow of what we’d had in the past. It would take a whole lot of healing for us to reach the same pinnacle of trust and tenderness and love that we used to share.

  I stopped in my tracks and gripped our dresser. I wanted so much more than this, and at one time, Stratton promised me the moon. Now our night sky was clouded over and dismal. Dark and cold. He had promised, I cried silently, like an animal in distress. And I believed him.