Rekindled (40 page)

I need to focus. Stay calm. Calling back to training, I do what we were taught. Meditate. Picture places and people and events that make you happy. I picture my dad holding me on his lap when I was a kid, letting me do the Sunday crossword puzzle with him. I remember him taking me and Rylee out fishing on his boat, and the way Rylee squealed when she caught her first trout. My dad wanted to cook it, but Rylee insisted we release it back into the lake. I picture Callie the day I met her. Wild brown hair and pale blue eyes too big for her face. She was an awkward kid who turned out to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.

The radio zings to life as voices carry through, and I can make out every couple of words, but my eyelids are growing heavy and my muscles are fading. Sweat pours off me like Niagara Falls, and it feels like the heat is dissipating, although maybe that’s just my imagination. I close my eyes, just wanting to rest, and I think I hear Matt’s voice calling to me, but at this point, everything feels like a dream. Everything feels…

“Is he dead?” Jonah asks, poking his finger into Tate’s chest.

“No, sweetheart, he’s just sleeping.”

“He’s been asleep for a looooonngg time. When’s he going to wake up?”

“Could be anytime now, bud.”

It’s been two weeks since they found Zach and Jonah. Zach was seriously injured from the car wreck and Tate and Jonah were both dealing with smoke inhalation and burns from the fire. Tate was worse off than Jonah. Much worse. They kept Jonah in the hospital for a few nights because he was severely dehydrated and had minor smoke inhalation, but otherwise was going to be fine. Tate, however, they had to put into a medically induced coma because he’d inhaled more smoke than his body could handle, and has third-degree burns on his back, legs, and hands. I’ve been on pins and needles ever since.

The doctors decided to bring him out of it today, but they said they don’t know when he’ll actually wake up. I’m hoping it’s sooner than later, because every second he’s asleep, I worry that he
won’t
wake up. And that’s just not something I can accept. I send Jonah off with Caleb to go get some Jell-O down in the cafeteria, not wanting him to witness my vulnerability.

Clearing my throat, I scoot a chair next to his bed, and place my hands on top of his, which are wrapped in bandages. The EKG machine beeps steadily in stride with my heartbeat as I close my eyes and let a tear slip out. “Hi Tate,” I start. “I don’t know whether you can hear me or not, but if you can, please wake up. Come back to me. I can’t do this without you. I need you to fight, you hear me? Because I love you and I’m not ready to lose you.” Tears streak my cheeks as I quietly sob into the blanket covering his body.

Hours pass without incident and I must have fallen asleep in the chair beside his bed, because it’s dark out when I wake up. Quiet footsteps shuffle in the hallway as nurses’ voices converse with one another while passing by. Standing, I bend down and press a kiss to Tate’s cheek, letting my lips linger as I take a shaky breath. “I love you,” I whisper against his skin. I turn and make my way toward the door when the machines in the room begin to beep at a rapid pace. Flinging the door wide open, I flag down one of the nurses. “Please, come quick, something’s happening!”

The nurse hustles into the room and I let out a cry of relief when Tate’s eyes slowly blink open. She flips on the light and proceeds to scribble something down on her chart before finagling with the machines to hush them.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr. Corbin,” she says. Tate tries to sit up, but the nurse gently pushes him back down. “Whoa there. You’ve been through quite a bit and your body still needs to recuperate.” She checks his vitals and then retrieves the doctor on call who proceeds to ask him basic questions. Does he know his name?
Tate Miles Corbin.
Does he know his age?
Twenty-six.
Does he remember what happened?

On that last question a look of panic strikes his face. “Jonah? Where’s Jonah? Is he okay? Is he alive?”

I walk to his side and place my hand over his. “He’s good. He’s good because of you.”

“He’s good,” he echoes. He closes his eyes and releases a long exhale which quickly turns into a fit of coughing.

I leave to get him some water while the doctor finishes talking to him, and when I return Tate’s alone. Hurrying back to his side, I kneel beside his bed as he gulps down the water.

“I was so worried,” I say, grasping his hands between mine. “T-they said you inhaled a lot of smoke while you were out there and they weren’t sure…they weren’t sure you were going to make it.” Tears pool in my eyes as I try to fight back the burning in my throat. “You saved my son. He’s alive because of you and I don’t know how to even begin to thank you… I—”

“I told you I’d find him.” His voice is rough and he speaks slowly in between coughing. “I wanted to bring him home.”

“I’m just glad you
both
are home.”

“What about Zach? Did he make it out?”

“They’re keeping him in the hospital for a few more days and then he’s being arrested for child endangerment. They’re also looking into charging him for starting the fire, although he said that it was purely accidental that it spread.”

“He needs help. He’s got a lot of issues.” He winces with pain when his coughing begins again.

“I know. But let’s not talk about him right now, okay? The doctor said you need to rest.”

“Okay.” He leans back against his pillow and closes his eyes. “Callie?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“When you go home tonight, will you make sure Jonah knows how much I love him?”

“Of course.” I wipe at my eyes with the edge of my palms and sniffle. I stare at the man who risked everything to save my son. His body is bandaged to help his burns heal, his hair is matted to his forehead, and he can barely take a single breath without coughing. Yet, with his eyes closed, and his eyelashes resting on the tops of his cheeks, he looks at peace.

“Oh and Callie?”

“Yeah, Tate?”

“I hope you know I love you.” He yawns and nestles his head further into the pillow. “Always have.”

I kiss his forehead and pull the blankets over his body. “I love you too, Tate. Always have.”

“I thought you said we were going to a movie?” I ask, as we pull into an empty parking lot next to the park.

“I lied, but it’s only because I needed to get you here.” Mari reaches over and pulls out an envelope from the glove compartment with a rose attached to the front. Handing it to me, she grins and says, “You can thank me later.”

Opening it, I stare at the messy scribble that reads:

The day we met was love’s gravity

Guiding you toward me

I was a locked up fortress

And your heart was the key

Your smile was our beginning

And instantly I knew

My happiness was a riddle

And the answer is you

*Meet me in the treehouse. - Tate*

The weight of everything that we’ve been through crashes down on me, and I instantly break out into tears. It’s been two weeks since he was released from the hospital, and while he’s doing well with his recovery, I’m still shaken up by the whole thing. Tate. He’s always been my happiness, and I clutch the note to my heart, feeling the words branding into my soul.

“Here.” Mari hands me a tissue. “You’re ruining all my hard work! Thank God I used waterproof mascara.”

I laugh as I dab at the corners of my eyes, trying not to smear my makeup any more than I already have. “How did Tate get this to you?”

“He sent me a text asking for my help earlier this afternoon. I snuck into your backyard while you were giving Jonah a bath.” She shrugs and tries to smooth down an errant strand of my hair. “There. You look beautiful. Now go on and get out of my car because I told Matt and Jonah I’d help them get set up for the next part.”

“Matt and Jonah are here?” I raise an eyebrow wondering who else Tate employed for this, but Mari just shoos me out of her car without a response.

The walk from the parking lot to the tree house feels like an eternity, and I only make it about halfway across the park before I stop and kick off my stilettos. The grass feels cool against the pads of my feet as I dash the rest of the way, completely out of breath by the time I reach the treehouse. I quickly pull out my phone and turn the camera on to check my makeup, and take a deep breath.

Climbing the ladder, I’m robbed of my breath when I see what Tate’s done with the treehouse. It looks
exactly
like it did when we were seven. Multi-colored plastic chairs sit around a small square table with crayon drawings on it, colorful foam mats cover the floor, and he replicated his
No Girls Allowed
sign, hanging it next to the door. There’s even a turkey and cheese Lunchables with a Capri sun-juice on the table.

“Hi,” he says, holding his hand out to me as I step inside. “Do you like it?”

“I love it. But how did you have time to do all this?”

“I had some help.” He chuckles and pulls a couple of the drawings off the wall and hands them to me. “Jonah made these.”

I smile when I flip through the crayon drawings of various animals and superhero stick figures. He’s definitely no Van Gogh, and even though a lot of the pictures look like big blobs of color, I’ve never seen anything so fantastic in my life.

“Is Jonah going to be okay with Matt? I mean he barely knows him…”

“Callie.” He pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms around me. “Do you honestly think I’d let just anyone watch our son? I trust Matt with my life. Besides, he’s basically a six-year old in a twenty-five-year-old body anyway. They’ll get along just great.”

Warmth blooms in my belly hearing him say the words,
our son.
Jonah may not be Tate’s biological child, but there is no doubt in my mind that Jonah is a son to him. Someone he will put before himself, someone to love and care for unconditionally. I bury my face in his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut, worried that this is a dream, and I’ll wake up any second. But when I crack one eye open and steal a glance at him, I take it all in. This is real. He’s alive and he’s here with me.

His lips quirks into a smile as he cocks his head to the side and lets his eyes roam over my face. “Come here,” he says, leading me towards a blanket which he quickly folds into a makeshift couch. We take a seat next to each other, and he leans into me, invading every inch of my space. “Callie,” he whispers against my temple.