Ignited: Fanning the Flames, #2

By Sierra Hill and S.E. Rose

His world was cold and dark...until she ignited a spark.

 

When Nick Holmes left to serve in the military, he had a plan for his life. A future with a wife and kids and all the things his parents had together. But that was before he saw the horrors of combat.

 

Now back in his small town working alongside his brother as a firefighter, Nick is slowly learning to live again with one very big complication. It comes in the form of a small, feisty, attractive woman who just happens to be the best friend of his brother's girlfriend. And as fate would have it, she's also his new neighbor.

 

Becca Carmichael drives him crazy with her absolute perfection. She's all he ever wanted before he left to serve in the military. And now, she's everything he can't allow himself to have.

 

He's tried to keep his distance, because he knows he's not what she needs. But a spark ignited between them the moment they met and it turned into a burning desire that gets harder to douse each day.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ten28 Publishing
• Release date: Jan 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201001346

Sierra Hill

Sierra Hill is the author of 12 contemporary, new adult romances. Since publishing her first book in 2014, she has found her creative passion in the characters represented in the pages of her books. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of over 20 years and a crazy rescue Shepherd.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Nick

I’ve heard people say that when you are in the middle of a traumatic moment, time slows down.

I’m not sure whether that’s because your senses work faster or your brain processes slower, but it makes reliving those moments even more painful as each and every millisecond is played out in your mind over and over for all of eternity like a broken record being played on a slow speed.

I wasn’t even supposed to be there; none of us were. 

It was the seventh day of my eighteenth month of my current deployment. After a solid decade, I had become career military. I hadn’t planned on it when I joined the marines on a whim two months after finishing the fire academy. 

But I was lost and young, and I wasn’t sure if being a firefighter would quell my need for more. 

My platoon had been stationed in Afghanistan for too long. We had become too comfortable in our volatile setting. I had seen too many traumatic events. But my team had never been at the heart of one, until that day.

Ricky, Kyle, Juan, and me. We were the four amigos. I was the oldest. Ricky and Kyle were two years younger than me and joined after they graduated high school. Juan was just a few months younger than me and had gone to community college and wanted to go to medical school, so he joined in hopes of getting Uncle Sam to foot the bill. 

Only ten years later, there he was, still running missions with us.

Another team was supposed to go check a local village for IEDs. Their tactical vehicle had engine troubles, so we got sent in to do the job. It was routine, just another day; only, it wouldn’t be in the end.

I remember it was unusually warm that day. So much so I was wiping sweat from my brow under my helmet. I don’t know why I remember that. Juan had teased me about needing antiperspirant for my forehead. I laughed and told him he needed it for his whole damn body. It was such a normal conversation between two old friends, two brothers in arms. When you serve with guys who have your back in perilous situations, they become brothers for life. A bond that can never be severed.

The village was small but large enough to have a school. I could see the children sitting at wooden tables through the open door as we pulled up and parked. We had protocol, and one of the things we tried not to do was interrupt school time. Was it a law that we had? No. But the kids needed to learn and a bunch of military folks walking into a school didn’t exactly equate to an effective learning environment.

What time are they done with class? Juan asked, motioning to the school.

Kyle pulled out a pack of smokes, a bad habit that we had long stopped trying to rectify. One more hour, I think. He glanced at his watch and back over at the school. We can hit it last. Plenty to check out here.

We had already swept the road for IEDs, but now we had the fun of checking around buildings in the village. It wasn’t glamorous work but was nerve-racking as hell. We were with a second team, one we worked with often. 

The other team finished first, and just as we finished, a few older kids left the school building. I’ll go check, Juan said. He spoke the local language better than all of us combined. 

I walked around our vehicle to get a refill of my water. I didn’t know then that my water refill would save me from injury. Save my life.

The blast happened so fast. One minute I was pouring water, and the next minute I was knocked onto the ground with rocky debris raining down around me.

Fuck! I yelled as I came to my senses, all my years in combat and training taking over as I went into marine autopilot. I opened the door to the vehicle and radioed for backup. Only then did I look up through the shattered window and see just how bad it was.

The school was a pile of stones. Kyle and Ricky were lying on the ground covered with debris and rocks, and Juan . . . was nowhere to be seen.

The second team had parked farther away. They ran over, calling out for a medic in search of Kyle and Ricky under the rubble as I rushed toward them to help. I could see Kyle was injured, probably a broken leg where debris had hit it. Ricky looked to have some pretty bad puncture wounds in his neck and cuts in his arm where shrapnel had torn through his uniform.

It’s gonna be okay, I said to them, placing a hand on top of each of their protective vests before I took off toward the school. Nothing in my training prepared me for what I saw. 

I’d seen my fair share of dead bodies. But these were all children. I started trying to move rocks out of the way. The school had been made of stones, and they easily weighed eighty pounds each. 

The first child I reached was already dead; their skull had been crushed. I glanced away, steeling myself against the flood of emotion that was welling inside me. I could hear the villagers rushing toward us. Heard the cries of mothers and fathers as they frantically tried to move the stones, hoping and praying their children were alive underneath it all.

The next child I reached had a piece of chair lodged in his abdomen. He was wailing in pain and shock.

It’s okay, I said over and over, but it only made him more agitated when he saw me in my uniform. He squirmed and then cried in agony. I put a hand over his, trying to calm him, but then he started seizing. I called for a medic. No one came, and the little boy stopped breathing. I did CPR. I don’t know for how long, but a member of the second team pulled me off him, shaking my shoulders as I tried to bat him away with my hands.

He’s gone, Gumby, Chris had said. It was the use of my nickname that I had gotten for how flexible I was despite my size that shook me out of my shock.

Where’s Juan? I asked, gently laying the child down on the ground, my hands still shaking.

Chris just shook his head.

We need to get to him, I said, pointing at the stones. I didn’t wait for Chris to reply, I just started moving stones, unearthing one dead child after another. I laid their bodies on the ground in a row as frantic, wailing family members began surrounding each one. When I saw an adult’s arm, I doubled my efforts, and stone by stone, I uncovered Juan. He was barely breathing, but he had a pulse.

Medic! I screamed. I looked back down at Juan. His eyes opened a little. It’s okay, buddy. I got you. We’re gonna get you fixed up in no time.

Blood was trickling from his mouth. Gumby, he said with a cough.

Yeah, man. It’s me, I replied as I tried to figure out where he had been injured. There was a lot of blood. His helmet was still on, but his abdomen was a ripped-up mess.

He gripped at his dog tags still around his neck. Take my stuff to Bianca.

No man, I said, placing my hand over his. You’re gonna take that shit home yourself. And then you’re gonna be a doctor and buy us a beach house. Remember? Don’t fucking forget that.

Juan tried to laugh but coughed up blood instead. I knew then that it wasn’t a good sign and the outcome was going to be devastating. Nothing good would come from this. But I hadn’t been able to believe it in that moment. 

I love you, brother, Juan whispered.

Don’t you give up on me, Doc, I whispered, trying to gain my composure and keep my fear tucked away.

Juan looked into my eyes, and I gripped his hand more tightly. 

A whole lifetime's worth of conversations passed between us in those few final moments as I watched the life leave my best friend’s mangled body. We would never be two old men, drinking beer in a bar, reminiscing over our time in the service. We would never go to a ballgame together. We would never get to tease each other like brothers do ever again.

A part of me died with Juan that day. 

And I’m not sure if I’ll ever get it back.

1

NICK

The familiar smell of lavender-scented sheets greets my nostrils as I wake. 

Home. 

I open my eyes to find sunlight streaking through the blue denim curtains in what was once my childhood bedroom, practically untouched since I left ten years ago. 

I roll over and glance at the towels Mom has laid out on the dresser along with toiletries like I’m at a Bed and Breakfast instead of my parents’ house.

I grin at that. No matter how old we are, we are still Mom’s babies.

I get up and make my way into the bathroom to shower. Long gone are the days when I had to fight my two younger brothers for the privilege of showering first so I’d get the hot water. Now I have it all to myself. It’s an odd feeling. Not having to share with anyone else or having to rush through a shower.

I’ve been home for all of three weeks now after returning stateside, and Mom and Dad are throwing me a welcome home party today. I hadn’t wanted one, but Mom insisted that some close friends and family come by for a barbeque. It’s summertime, and Dad just opened the pool. It’s not unusual for them to have friends and family stop by to christen the new pool season, so I let it go to avoid an argument I wouldn’t win. I can force myself to make small talk with neighbors and sit off to the side and watch the action. It’s about all I can bring myself to do just now.

My heart and head aren’t really here with me—I left them overseas. It’s been hell, and I know I have a long road ahead of me.

It also didn’t help that the moment I returned to town, my brother, Tyler, a firefighter with the Rivers Crossing fire department, picked me up at the airport and then took me along on a detour when an explosion occurred at the high school. We immediately went into fire fighter mode to help locate his fire chief girlfriend, Callie, who was inside the building at the time of the blast.

So my nerves are frayed and I could use something lowkey today. 

I throw on swim trunks and a t-shirt because, if I don’t appear to look like I’m attending a pool party, Mom and Dad will give each other nervous glances and probably send me to see a shrink. And I don’t need any of that right now. They’ve been hovering and over-protective since the moment I returned home.

Which is why I’m glad that today I get to announce I’ve found myself an apartment and will be moving into my own place in a week. The truth is, I started looking even before I arrived stateside. I knew I needed my own space and the sooner, the better.

Good morning, sweetheart, Mom says, leaning up to kiss my cheek as I lumber into the kitchen. She’s busy at the kitchen counter making enough food to feed an army. I notice a tray of Deviled eggs and reach out to pop one in my mouth.

What time are the festivities beginning? I ask as I swallow the egg down, grabbing a mug out of the cupboard and filling it with coffee.

In about an hour, she replies. I glance at the microwave clock. It’s nearly eleven in the morning. I had slept in for the first time in . . . well, I can’t remember how long.

I take a sip of coffee and peer out the kitchen window. Dad’s already firing up the charcoal barbeque, getting it hot and ready for the burgers and brats he’ll be grilling later. I suddenly feel the need to do something. To do something productive with my hands and not feel like an invalid and lost soul.

I’m going to change the oil in my truck and get it tuned up. I should have done that yesterday, I announce as I put my mug in the sink.

Right now? You can do that tomorrow, Mom says, glancing over at me with a surprised look on her face. We have guests arriving soon who will want to see you.

I don’t want to tell her the truth,