The Firefighter's Refrain. Loree Lough
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held out the second bottle to Rowdy, but he declined it. “Sounds like you’re pretty well set, here. If it’s okay, I think I’ll take you up on your offer to head home early.”
“Feel free to sleep in,” she told him. “There’s no point in going to the farmer’s market at the crack of dawn.”
The big man gave her a sideways hug. “Y’know, I might just do that...if I remember how to sleep past four!”
The place fell silent, save for the drip-drip-drip of rain plopping into the puddles just outside the broken window.
“I’ve seen a lot of destruction,” Sam said. “This looks way worse than it is. It’ll take some time, but you’ll be back in business before you know it.”
“And we’ll help,” Torry said, leading the parade of band members, each toting a four-by-eight-foot sheet of plywood.
“This stuff was left over from when we redid the bathrooms,” Mark said. “So don’t look at me like that. You’re doing us a favor, getting it out of the way.”
Regardless of where it came from, Finn intended to repay Mark for every last sheet. Mark and Sam, she corrected herself, since he was an owner now.
While the men hammered and sawed, boarding up the opening, Finn shoved aside stools, tables and benches and swept up glass and bits of metal and plastic that had held the big window in place. Already she could see that Sam had been right. It would take time and patience, but the diner would be good as new before long.
The Right Note had been providing for her since Pete had hired her at the tender age of fourteen. When he’d learned that the Learys were facing eviction, he’d given her a raise, more than enough to keep the wolf from the door while her parents spent the rent money on recording studios, drugs and alcohol. Two weeks after Ciara’s release from the hospital—and three days before Finn’s eighteenth birthday—Misty and Connor had left in the middle of the night. Gig in Chi-town, their note had said. Be good girls while we’re gone! Connor had signed Daddy, though neither she nor Ciara had used the term in years, and left two hundred dollars on the table. He hadn’t provided a phone number, address or the name of the club that had hired them. Two months later, when Pete found out what they’d done, he’d moved her and Ciara into the upstairs apartment. And when the Learys returned eight months after that, expecting to pick up where they’d left off, he’d made it clear they would not.
“Good ol’ Pete,” she muttered, remembering the tongue-lashing he’d given her folks.
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“Oh, nothing.” She faked a grin. Stop looking so sympathetic, Sam Marshall, she thought, or I’ll lose it. Finn hated few things more than blubbering in front of people, strangers in particular.
What would Pete say if he were here? “Look for the silver lining, cupcake. There’s always a silver lining.” Her eyes misted with tears. Oh, how she missed him!
“Well, we’re done,” Torry said, rapping on the plywood wall. “That’ll hold ya until your insurance agent cuts you a check.”
“Thanks, guys. You’re all entitled to free meals just as soon as we’re open for business.”
Torry took her aside. “Are you crazy, offering this motley crew free food? They’ll eat clean through to the kitchen, and you’ll have to start all over again!”
Laughing, the guys made their way out through the back door.
All except for Sam.
“I know a couple good contractors,” he said. “Recruits turned firefighters who used to work for family businesses. So, just say the word, and I’ll hook you up.”
“Thanks.” She glanced into her office, where the still-unpaid invoices sat on her desk. “I have a couple of phone calls to make.”
“Insurance agent?”
Finn nodded. “Thanks for rounding up that work crew. You’re right. No way Rowdy and I could have done all that alone. Especially not so quickly.”
“Happy to help.”
It was what everyone said, but it rarely sounded more heartfelt.
Sam handed her a business card. “If you need anything, you know, while you’re waiting for the agent to get back to you, call me. Any time. Even if it’s just to talk.” He looked around the place. “Because I’m guessing this hit you pretty hard.”
Why, oh, why, did he have to seem so sincere? Tears stung her eyes, and Finn held her breath. You will not cry. Do. Not. Cry!
Sam took a step closer, stooping slightly to study her face. Why didn’t he just leave? She’d ask him to go...if she could speak around the sob in her throat.
“Aw, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he said, and extended his arms.
If anyone had told her she’d so willingly step into them, she would have called them insane.
But that was exactly what she did, and safe was exactly how she felt.
SAM HAD COMFORTED women before. Not so unusual for a guy in his line of work, especially one with a mom, grandmothers, sisters, an assortment of aunts and nieces and a weepy ex-girlfriend or two. Some wailed, others sniffled, a few hiccupped...over lost loved ones and pets, poignant movie plots, thoughtful gifts. But not one had held on so tight he could feel her heart beating against his chest. If not for the tears dampening his shirt and the quaking of Finn’s petite body, he wouldn’t have realized she was crying.
His leg was killing him, thanks to hefting and steadying the plywood while Torry, Mark and the guys had nailed it in place. He could go home, elevate it and apply heat, swallow an aspirin or two and feel relief in no time. But he’d rather endure the pain than let her go.
Common sense told him that useless platitudes were the last thing she needed to hear right now. So he stood quiet and still, and let his presence do the talking.
Thanks to Mark and Torry, he’d learned a bit about Finn’s history. The terrible accident. Absentee parents. Full responsibility for her sister. Employees who relied on her for a steady paycheck. Sam thought of his own mom and dad, whose unconditional love showed in everything they said and did.
The contrasts made him hug Finn a little tighter. She’d grown up without any of that, yet she’d taken on the role of mother, father and older sibling to her special needs sister. If she’d been raised by parents like his, how much more terrific would she be?
Finn pressed both palms to his chest and gazed up at him through long, tear-spiky eyelashes. His pulse pounded when a faint, sheepish grin lifted one corner of her mouth.
“I’m not usually such a big whiny baby. Sorry.”
When she looked away, it felt as if someone had flipped a switch and turned out the light in his heart. Sam lifted her chin on a bent forefinger, gently guiding her gaze back to his eyes.
“You’re not a big whiny baby, and you have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”
Finn bit her lower lip to still its trembling, and he admired her all the more for the effort at self-control.
“I meant what I said.”
Dark eyebrows lifted slightly.
“You really are safe with me. Safe to cry or stamp your feet or put a fist through a wall.” He grinned. “Although I don’t recommend that last one.”
“Right...the place has sustained enough damage for one night.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Besides, tears and tantrums are a waste of time and energy.”
Sam read between the lines: she hadn’t