Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I chuckled. “Okay. Just feel better.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up, staring at the phone. Chase came in, sitting down. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Cherry canceled tonight.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah. Bad day.”
He nodded. “She said something to Hannah on the weekend too. She thinks she’s too old to be hairdressing anymore. Between the girls she’s working with and standing all day, she’s tired of it.”
I hummed in agreement. I had rubbed her shoulders on Saturday evening, shocked at how knotted her muscles were. Her legs were tight too.
“Hard on the body after all these years, I guess.” I chuckled. “I feel the same at times, bent over an engine. I can’t quite stretch the same way anymore.”
Chase laughed. “Old man.”
I glowered at him, even though, today, he was right. I felt old.
“Any plans tonight?” I asked.
“We’re going to the movies. There’s a double feature of two old classics Hannah loves. She switched shifts to help out a coworker, so we thought we’d take advantage.”
“Cherry saw the advertisement for that. I thought I’d take her next week. It’s still playing, right?”
“Yep. Every Tuesday for a month. She’d enjoy it. They both love the old classics.” He paused. “Hannah worries about her mom alone all the time.” He glanced at me with a sly smile. “You plan on changing that, Dom?”
I sat back, lacing my fingers behind my head and meeting his gaze. “I might be. How do you think Hannah would feel if her mom were closer?”
“She’d love it.”
“I want Cherry to move in with me. I want to buy a bigger place. Have room for her—and hopefully Josh.”
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“How does Cherry feel about that?”
I grinned. “I haven’t brought that up yet. I’m waiting for the right moment.”
“The way you two spark, that should be a fun conversation.”
“One I plan on winning.”
He stood. “I live with her daughter. The stubbornness runs deep in those two. Good luck with that.”
He left and I chuckled. I had a feeling when it came to Cherry Gallagher, I was going to need all the luck I could get.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dom
About half an hour later, I was restless. Edgy. Figuring a drive would help, I grabbed my keys. I headed toward Toronto, deciding I would check on Cherry and, if she felt better, take her out. If not, I would go across the street and bring back some soup from her local Chinese place, then tuck her in for the night. But I wanted to see her. I needed to see her. She would help ease the restlessness I was feeling.
It was overcast and misty as I drove, the weather suiting my mood. The street was mostly deserted, the rain beginning as I turned onto the street where the salon was located. The area around me was foggy, the damp of the rain all around. Down the block ahead of me, I saw a small crowd. At the same time, I smelled it.
Smoke.
I parked and jumped from the vehicle. The rancid smell got stronger, and I realized the fog was more than fog.
The salon was on fire.
My heart plummeted when I realized how thick the smoke was.
I raced toward the side, shouting at the crowd. “Did anyone call 9-1-1?”
A woman responded with a yes. “They’re on their way.” She waved toward the building. “The salon is closed.”
“The apartments,” I snapped. “Are the occupants out?”
“We hammered on the doors, but no one is home, thank goodness,” someone else said.
Cherry’s words came back to me. “The Gravol makes me sleep hard…”
She was up there. Asleep. I knew it.
I raced down the back to the steps, taking them two at a time.
I heard someone behind me. “We checked!”
“She’s unconscious!” I yelled back. I didn’t stop running, slamming my shoulder into her door. It took me three attempts before the wood splintered and I fell inside Cherry’s small apartment. It was dark, filled with smoke.
I shouted her name, grabbing a bundle of material on the floor and covering my face. I realized it was a sweater she often wore and left by the door.
I couldn’t see anything as I stood, trying to find my way through the smoke, shocked at how easy it was to get lost in the swirling fog and heat. I headed toward the bedroom, tripping over something. I fell, hitting my head, cursing. I felt the warm blood dripping down my face, but it didn’t matter. Finding her mattered.
I crawled, finding my way to the bedroom, shocked to discover that she wasn’t in the bed. At first, I was relieved. Maybe she had gotten out. Maybe she never made it upstairs. Then I recalled the sound of the chain breaking as the door gave way. The chain wouldn’t have been on if she was out. Frantically, I began to search, ignoring the blood on my face, and the choking sound I was making from the smoke. I crawled toward the front door, my hand finding a foot to one side. Cherry was in a heap on the floor, the table beside her knocked over. Squinting, I could see that she had a gash on her head and her arm was bent at a strange angle. With a huge effort, I pulled her into my arms and stood. The smoke was pouring out the door, and I headed in the direction of the air movement, gasping for oxygen as I broke through the entranceway onto the landing outside. I carried her downstairs, fighting to breathe, desperate to help her. I laid her on the cold, damp ground, immediately beginning CPR. Her chest was barely moving as I fell into a rhythm, pumping her chest and breathing into her mouth, happy to give her what little oxygen I could.