Page 19 of Fireworks
“Oh, right. Isn’t all romance a fantasy? Or do you mean, like, women who snog dragons?”
The mockery in his voice irked her, like finding enjoyment in romance was something to be sneered at. “Sometimes, there are dragons. This one has fairies.”
“Fairies. Interesting.” He raised a curious eyebrow. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. Regardless, the annoyance it triggered snuffed out any of that pesky, lingering lust. “Is she any good at it?”
“Harper will be a bestseller in no time.” That, she was sure of, and didn’t mind if it sounded like a brag. Still, it was another reason why she couldn’t help but feel like the rope tying everyone down. While Harper and Fraser chased their dreams, Eiley was just trying, and failing, to keep herself together.
She was relieved when Mum’s narrow terraced house came into view at the end of the avenue, curtains drawn against the dark. Luckily, she still had a key to the front door in her purse. She rooted through her bag for it, eager to escape Warren’s chafing presence.
“Mind if I have this back now?” A weight was lifted, and it took her a moment to realise it was literal – Warren retrieving his helmet. The one she had forgotten she was wearing.
She cringed at the memory of snatching it, and what had followed. “Thanks for taking me home.”
“Aye. Good luck with everything, firecracker.”
The nickname was soft as honey in his mouth, enough to fan the embers of that desire. She hadn’t felt it in a long, long time. Didn’t get enough alone time to even remember what pleasure felt like, these days, let alone want.
But she didn’twanthim. No. She was just … stressed. Her head was all over the place, and he was here. He always seemed to be here.
So she left the car without another word and only allowed herself a curt wave of thanks once the door was safely shut. As she watched his car lights disappear down the road, she chewed the inside of her cheek and prepared herself for what came next.
As she passed through the wooden gate and up the pathway to Mum’s door, the bittersweet ache of coming home hit her like a brick wall.
Like always, everything and nothing had changed: she was still heartbroken, still lost, and still at Mum’s.
She may as well never have left.
8
“Well … It’s notthatbad.” Mum leaned on her crutches to glimpse the inside of the bookstore, which was, in fact,thatbad. Somehow worse in the unforgiving daylight, which shouldn’t have been true considering there were no longer several waterfalls gushing through the ceiling. But the lack of water meant there was nothing to cover up the holes where the plaster hadn’t been able to hold, nor all the damp bubbling beneath the stained wallpaper.
A large dehumidifier whooshed by the door, offering a steadydrip, drip, dripthat irked Eiley. It would dry the place out, but it wouldn’t clean the mess. And if it was this bad here, two floors down from the burst water source, how awful would her flat be?
Needless to say, she hadn’t slept last night. Her arrival had woken a befuddled Mum, and Eiley had broken down in her arms before she could even tell the story. Just like old times. She was grateful to have a mum who was so easy to talk to. Unlike Fraser, she didn’t rush to fix things. She could sit beside Eiley and her sadness rather than try to find a miracle solution. Probably because she knew pain better than anyone,both with her arthritis and her lack of support when they were children. Knew that some troubles couldn’t be swiped away with a well-intentioned bat of the hand. That Eiley found herself in the same position not thirty years later, with three children and no partner, felt like a cruel pattern.
“Oh, morning!” The other firefighter from last night appeared in the doorway that led to the stairwell – the less terrible one who had stopped Warren from barking any more lectures at her. A light sheen of moisture coated his forehead beneath floppy dark curls.
Eiley fought the urge to hide behind her mum like a child. Like Warren, he’d seen her at her absolute worst, a raging lunatic who had almost shouted down the entire bookstore.
At the thought ofhim, an uncomfortable flutter began in her belly. Would she have to see him again today? Would it be different after the ride home, or would he be eager to tell her off a second time?
“Hi,” she said, awkward as ever. “Sorry. I thought you’d be gone by now.”
Or hoped. The big fire engine was no longer outside, leaving just the emergency response car that Warren had driven her home in. The sight of that alone left her heart pumping faster, the memory of that strange, unpredictable static between them having plagued her all night between other worries.
“We’re just finishing up.” A friendly smile dimpled the firefighter’s round cheeks. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as his co-worker – but then, not many people were – with a less daunting physique and a rounder bone structure. If he judged her for last night, it didn’t show as he rounded thecounter and retied the sleeves of his jacket around the soft flesh of his stomach. “We’ve secured the building so you’re welcome to roam freely, although be careful on the stairs. You shouldn’t have much need to go up there; we’ve placed as many of your belongings as we could save at the bottom of the stairs to make it easier for you.”
Eiley nodded, peering into the empty corridor. A flutter danced in her to see Oliver the Octopus’s pink tentacles on top of the pile, as well as her lost slipper.
Warren had remembered.
The firefighter crossed his arms, displaying a full sleeve of colourful tattoos on his right arm. “Don’t worry. It’s his day off.”
She felt herself blush. “Whose?”
Her feigned innocence might have been believable if it hadn’t come out all squeaky.
“Aye, I want to know that, too,” Mum chimed in, waggling her brows. “You haven’t bagged yourself a wee firefighter, have you, love? Nowthat’dbe a lovely little silver lining.”
