William followed her back out, leaving Remi alone with Brick.
Both of the island’s fire trucks screamed past the house, followed by the ambulance.
Her heart thumped.
“You have to go,” she told him.
“I can’t leave you.”
“You’re not leaving me alone. There is a house full of people here. You’re needed out there.”
The island fire department was well-equipped but not to battle what could easily become a 4-alarm blaze. Every available hand was needed to save the landmark. The beginning for so many happily ever afters.
Gripping his arm, Remi looked into those worried eyes. “Go.”
“Promise me you won’t take any risks. You’ll stay indoors. You won’t step a foot out the door once I’m gone.”
“I promise you, Brick.”
He cupped her face in his hand, his blue eyes burning. “Promise me you’ll be here when I get back so I can ask you that question.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Yes to tacos.”
He brought his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.
She cupped his face in her hands, reveling at the rough of his beard, the smooth of his skin. This face was so achingly familiar to her. He belonged to her. It had been written so long ago, yet they were just getting started.
“I love you. Be safe. Text when you can.”
He nodded, then lowered his mouth to hers for one hard kiss. “I will. I love you, Remington.”
“Oh, hey. Don’t fuck anything up,” she called as he started to leave.
He paused and stared at her.
She shrugged. “What? I’m not giving you some kind of romantic last words. I’m giving you something terrible to hold you over until you’re home again. Then I’ll say nice things.”
“I’ll love you so fucking much,” he said fiercely.
“I’ll be waiting for you, big guy.”
“Keep your inhaler on you. I don’t know how bad the smoke is going to get.”
She blew him a kiss as he jogged down the porch steps.
His large form melted into the night as he ran toward the fire.
Remi watched him go with an ache in her chest.
Something tickled at the back of her neck. A nagging sensation that had her turning away from the direction of the fire and looking down the dark street. Neighbors were coming out of their houses to see what the excitement was about. Before long, she was sure there would be a crowd of bystanders at the hotel.
But something out there in the dark made her feel like she was the entertainment. Like she was the one being observed.
William herded everyone back inside and bolted the front door. And while a debate raged over hot tea or coffee or more wine, Remi decided to behave herself and rounded up her inhaler and phone. She had a shit-ton of missed calls and texts. Mostly from Rajesh.
The phone rang in her hand.
“What?”
“Dude,” Raj said, “the pics of you and Camille are getting so much play right now. Why didn’t you clue me in? I sounded like an idiot when the calls started coming in.”
Her heart did a lopsided roll in her chest. “What pictures?” she asked, gripping the phone.
“The ones Camille posted to Instagram. They’re freaking everywhere.”
“Those weren’t supposed to go up until tomorrow morning.” Tomorrow morning, when a dozen federal agents and all of the Mackinac Island Police Department were ready to spring the trap.
Ten minutes later, Agents Brice and White showed up. As William shut the door behind them, Remi barreled up.
“Which one of you asshats decided to post the pictures early?” she hissed.
Special Agent Brice frowned and shot her partner a cool look.
Two spots of color appeared on White’s cheeks. “What’s the big deal? He already knew you were here. He probably guessed his wife would run straight to you.”
“The big deal, you stupid, dick-swinging shit, is that the entire police department is on the scene of a fire, and you two are the only federal agents on the fucking island. Why didn’t you roll out a welcome mat?”
“Ms. Ford,” Brice said.
“Don’t fucking ‘Ms. Ford’ me. If this fire has anything to do with Warren Vorhees, if any of my people get hurt, it’s on your head.”
Brice ran her tongue around her teeth. “Stay here and keep an eye on things,” she told White. “I’m going to track down Chief Ford at the fire and find out if there’s any reason to be concerned.”
“You can keep an eye on things outside,” Remi said, opening the front door for them.
Everyone gathered in the living room for popcorn, tea, and a movie. Her father and Kyle both volunteered to spend the night, telling the kids it was the first big family sleepover. Remi kept her phone on her and waited to hear from Brick.
The tightness in her chest a constant companion as the movie played. As Kimber and Kyle carried the kids upstairs to put them to bed. As one by one, everyone wandered off to bed.
Perhaps she wasn’t the only one feeling the tension, she noted.
Her father sprawled out on the couch, a baseball bat on the floor next to him “just in case.” Brick’s father positioned himself in the dining room with a book, one of Brick’s guns, and a line of sight to the front door and stairs.
“You all right in here?” Remi asked, bringing him a glass of water.
He nodded. “I’m right where I need to be.”
“I know Brick feels better with you here,” she said, brushing her fingers over the chair back.
“He’s entrusted me to keep an eye on you,” William said. “I’m not going to let him down. Not again.”
“Seems like you’ve been done letting people down for a long time.”
“It’s nice of you to notice,” he said with a soft smile.
“I’m going to marry your son,” she said suddenly.
“I’d hoped so. You’re just exactly what he needs. A reminder that life isn’t so black and white. That there’s a lot of fun to be had with colors.”
“It’s good to have you here,” she said. “I’m going to go back to the studio and see if I can burn off some energy with paint for an hour or so.”
He nodded. “I’ll be here.”
She headed down the hall, wandering past rooms that held so many signs of life now. Schoolwork for the kids. Kimber’s makeshift office in the living room. Magnus and her father both snoring in the living room. The popcorn bowls. It felt good, right, to fill Brick’s life with just a little bit of chaos.
She stepped into the studio and flicked on the lights. Shaking off the anxiety about what lurked beyond the dark windows, she rolled her work in progress back onto the center of the drop cloth.
She’d finish her painting for Brick later. Right now, she felt like exorcising some demons. With “No Surprises” on repeat, she kicked off her shoes and got to work.
The nervous energy, the sliver of fear that put a metallic taste in her mouth, was exactly what she needed. To create fear and confusion with brush and oil. To bring a desperate drive to survive to life on canvas. As it took shape, as she shaded and scraped and layered, she wondered if anyone else would ever see this painting. Or if perhaps she’d paint it and then burn it. Or maybe she’d sell it. There were collectors out there who would appreciate a moment of fear frozen in time to hang on a wall.