a reedy breath. The adult Wade Winslow rattled her completely.
And she had to be brutally honest. No matter how many years had passed, he still affected her. Always had and probably always would. But the grown man didn’t want her sympathy or love any more than the boy had. Maybe less.
Sighing deeply, she headed down the stairs. Wade had built barriers around his heart, all right, formidable ones that she’d never breach. Not that it mattered. Once Norm died, he’d leave, the same as he did before. Only this time, he’d never return.
Wade braced his hands on the shower wall and angled his head so the hot water pummeled his shoulders. He groaned as the heat seeped into his muscles and eased the stiffness and pain. After twelve hours of sleep and a shower, he felt almost human.
Not that feeling tired was new. Despite napping every chance he got—on the jump plane en route to a fire, on a folding chair in the ready-room, or even in a patch of shade on the tarmac—he lived with chronic exhaustion. And filth. Fighting wildfires was dirty work. He routinely spent days digging fire lines, falling snags with his chain saw and sifting through ashes for hot spots, all in the same, sweat-drenched clothes.
But as good as this shower felt, he didn’t have time to linger. Snapping off the water, he toweled off and pulled on a T-shirt and jeans. Then he tossed the quilt over the rumpled sheets on the bed and quickly jerked on his jacket. Max would have called if anything had happened to Norm, but he couldn’t afford to waste time.
The hot water had worked the stiffness from his knee, so he tramped easily down the wide, winding staircase and through the back hall to the kitchen. He wondered if Erin was still around. That had been a shock last night, finding her in the doorway.
She’d looked more fragile than he remembered, thinner, but still beautiful with that thick, auburn hair piled carelessly on her head. He’d seen that same, deep red in crown fires over the years. The color never failed to mesmerize him, reminding him of Erin’s long, gleaming hair streaming over her naked breasts in the moonlight.
He never understood why she’d come to him that night. It still seemed like his wildest dream. She hadn’t hung out with that crowd, shouldn’t even have been at that party. And when she’d kissed him, touched him, begging him to make love to her, she’d shocked him out of his mind.
He should have walked away. A decent man would have done that. But he’d ached for her, hungered for her for so damn long that he couldn’t deny himself—or her, when she’d whispered his name. He’d never had the heart to turn down Erin.
But no matter how incredible that night had been, Erin wasn’t his business now. He’d only come back to help Norm—which he intended to do as soon as he grabbed some coffee.
He entered the large, farm-style kitchen. Long counters flanked a deep sink topped with tall windows. Mrs. McCuen and another woman he vaguely recognized sat at a table drinking coffee. When he didn’t see Erin, he hitched out his breath.
“Hello, Wade.” The woman with the wispy gray hair smiled. “I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Lottie Brashears. I was the school nurse for a while.”
“Sure, I remember.” He nodded to Erin’s grandmother, a tiny woman with white hair piled on her head. “Mrs. McCuen.”
Mrs. McCuen frowned. “Are you from the bank?”
“The bank? No.”
“You remember Wade, don’t you?” Lottie asked her. “Norm Decker’s boy. He went to school with Erin.”
Mrs. McCuen’s expression eased. “Oh, yes, Erin’s friend.”
Friend. Right. The friend who took her virginity and then fled town. But he’d been right to leave. Erin deserved someone better than him. Someone respectable, stable, who’d keep her happy and safe.
He shifted his gaze to the counter. “Mind if I have some coffee?”
“Go right ahead,” Lottie said. “The cups are above the machine. Help yourself to the doughnuts, too. Or there’s cereal, if you’d rather have that.”
“This is great, thanks.” He filled a mug with black coffee, stacked three glazed doughnuts on a napkin, and headed to the table. He hooked a chair with his foot, pulled it out and sat.
“I’ll bet Norm’s glad you’re back,” Lottie said. “He always hoped you’d settle down here.”
A bite of doughnut stuck in Wade’s throat and he washed it down with coffee. “I’m not staying long,” he said when he’d swallowed. “I’m just here to see Norm.”
“Oh, I see,” Lottie said as if she really didn’t. He frowned. He didn’t owe anyone in this town explanations. Besides, he had a great life out west, making good money at a job he loved.
“Well, anyway, it’s nice of you to visit,” she said. “Norm’s a good friend. He really helped Mae after the accident.”
Wade glanced at Mrs. McCuen. Her hand trembled, slopping coffee over the cup. “Erin mentioned an accident last night.”
Lottie settled Mae’s cup on the saucer and blotted the spill with a napkin. “Mae hit a patch of ice last winter at the intersection with the highway and broadsided a truck. It was touch and go for a while, but she’s come through all right.” She smiled and patted Mae’s hand.
“A nuisance,” Mrs. McCuen said.
“You’re no such thing,” Lottie countered. She looked at Wade to explain. “I keep Mae company while Erin works. She needs a little help getting around.”
Wade’s gaze settled on Erin’s grandmother. A little help? The woman could barely drink her coffee unassisted.
He drained his own cup and rose for a refill. “So Erin teaches now?”
“History at St. Michaels Academy.”
That fit. He could see her in front of a classroom exalting the virtues of historic Millstown, though not in a private school. She’d never been a snob, despite her family’s background. Hell, she’d even been nice to him.
He snagged another doughnut and gazed out the window over the sink. Downed tree limbs poked through the ragged lawn. He thought of the sagging front porch and unease built in his gut.
“Erin’s a good teacher,” Mrs. McCuen said carefully.
“You bet she is,” Lottie agreed. “They’re darned lucky to have her. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard.”
An image of Erin rose in Wade’s mind, her green eyes lined with shadows. He slugged back his coffee and frowned. He didn’t want to think of Erin suffering. He wanted her insulated from the rough side of life—just the way he’d left her.
“My fault,” Mrs. McCuen whispered.
“It’s not your fault,” Lottie scolded. “Accidents happen. Don’t even think of blaming yourself. Besides, Wade’s here to help us now.”
“What?” He turned.
“Oh, I didn’t mean you had to do anything. Erin would never want that.
