Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
After pulling that batch out, I put another pan in, set the timer, and then return to my baby.
“She sweated out during her nap,” I tell him. “She said she doesn’t have to throw up, but she’s been dizzy.”
He frowns, looking at her. “Why can’t I figure you out, cupcake?”
“I have a question.” He turns to me, listening, and I clear my throat. “I know I’m not a doctor—”
“I want to hear what you have to say. You live with her, Dani. Ask.”
“Could she have celiac disease? I had a roommate in college who did, and her symptoms were mostly different, but I’ve been wondering about it.”
Blake chews on his lip and looks back to Birdie.
“We haven’t tested her for it, but we should. I didn’t consider that it could be a gastrointestinal thing. I was thinking endocrine. We even considered cystic fibrosis and a primary immunodeficiency. We screened her for cancers right away, and thank fuck those were all negative. Celiac is not typical in kids, but our girl likes to be unique.”
I smile at Birdie, who’s dozing against the couch.
“Thanks for the idea.” Blake stands and, to my surprise, pulls me into a hug. “Thank you for being so good to them, by the way.”
“I love them.” I snuggle against him, accepting the comfort he’s offering, just for a moment. “And I want her to feel better.”
“I do, too.” He steps back and sighs, and then, to our horror, Birdie wakes up, leans over, and tosses her Thanksgiving dinner onto the floor.
“So much for using the bowl,” I mutter, as Birdie starts to cry, and Blake and I spur into action, cleaning up and stripping Birdie down, because she managed to get it all over herself, the blankets, everywhere. “I love that you never do anything halfway,” I say to her.
“If you’re gonna do it,” Blake agrees, “do it big.”
Blake puts the blankets in the laundry as I get Birdie in the shower, and when I’m drying her off and putting her in clean pajamas, I can hear the carpet-cleaning machine going in the living room.
“Wow, Doctor Blake cleans carpets.” I kiss her on the forehead, and Birdie finally smiles at me. “Are you starting to feel better, my love?”
“I’m tired.” She yawns. “But I feel a little better.”
“Good. Maybe you ate something bad, and you just had to get it out of there.”
Screech.
Oh, God, the smoke alarm. Birdie and I run out to find smoke coming out of the oven.
“Oh, crap!”
Blake is already pulling the burned cookies out of the oven, and I hurry to open windows to help get the smoke out.
“We were a little distracted,” Blake says with a laugh. “Oops.”
“I shouldn’t have put that last pan in there. This really stinks. It’s just some cookies; it shouldn’t smell this bad.” As annoyed as I feel about them, I’m thankful Blake was here to help with Birdie. I’d still be cleaning up vomit from the carpets and furniture if he wasn’t here.
I hope Bridger is doing okay up on the mountain. It must be terrible if Chase was called at the same time—
“Why are there lights outside?” Birdie asks, pointing to the front window, and Blake and I turn to see what she’s looking at.
“You two stay here,” Blake says as he marches for the front door, but when he opens it, there’s no mistaking what’s going on out there.
My rental is on fire.
“What the hell?” I reply as I march outside and down to the sidewalk. There’s a lone police car, and Rod’s standing nearby, speaking into his radio.
“The blaze has enveloped the whole house,” he says, and all I can do is stare, zoning him out.
Everything I own is in that house.
Sure, I was going to donate most of it, but it was mine. My photos, my books, the dress I wore when Millie and Holden got married. I hadn’t pulled out the sentimental things yet.
Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turn and find Blake standing behind me, Birdie in his arms.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he says.
“I guess we didn’t just smell the cookies.” I shake my head, taking it in. “Blake, I didn’t leave anything on. Just the lights, but not the oven or anything over there.”
“It’s not your fault,” he replies.
“Oh, God. Everyone’s up at the resort, fighting the fire up there.” Frantically, I turn to Rod. “No one can come fight this.”
“They’re on their way down,” he says grimly. “But it’s going to take a little time. This house is a loss, but I hope they’re down in time to make sure the other houses around it don’t ignite.”
I cover my mouth and shake my head.
What if Birdie and I had still been inside it? What happens if it spreads before they get here?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BRIDGER
“The condos, the rental building, and the lodge are all out,” Jones says as he gives me the status update. “The pub is the last still burning, but it was the most extensive. He probably started there first and then made his way from there. It’s a hot fucker.”