Page 73 of Light My Fire Three Times
We stop near the big Christmas tree in the square so Ivy can dig for a pacifier. I stare up at the lights, hundreds of them blinking like they don’t know what it feels like to have your life entirely on fire. Literally. Figuratively. Both.
People are all around us, holding hands, sipping cocoa, as if peace on earth might be possible. I wonder what that feels like. To not be tangled in secrets and guilt and the kind of choices you can’t take back.
I squeeze the penguin as if it can answer me. Spoiler: it can’t.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Ivy… how are you?”
I turn and… wow. There’s a woman in a fur-trimmed coat, holding a latte like it’s an Olympic torch. Her sunglasses are so oversized that I could check my reflection in them. And the smile? It’s all teeth and charm—a shark in lipstick.
Ivy grins, all friendly and bright.
“Dottie! Hey!” She gives me a tiny elbow jab, the universal sign for ‘brace yourself, you’re about to meet someone.’ “This is my friend Olivia. She’s in town for a while.”
Dottie looks me over like I’m a new exhibit at the fair. Then the grin gets even bigger. “Olivia, well, isn’t that a pretty name? Welcome to Coyote Glen, sugar. Although I have heard a lot about you already.”
“Thanks… I think…?”
Dottie leans in slightly, whispering, even though I swear half the street can hear. “And from what I hear, you’re… getting nice and cozy here.”
I blink. “Sorry?”
“Oh, don’t be modest, darlin’. Folks talk.” She tilts her head, sunglasses flashing under the twinkle lights. “I know you’re dating that handsome firefighter.”
Shit.
My stomach drops hard as a sled on black ice.
What is she talking about?
Whois she talking about?
“Karl Madden,” she confirms.
My heart races, but that might be the best of the three for her to name.
Next to me, Ivy chokes on a laugh, or maybe her soul is leaving her body. “Karl? You and Karl are still…?”
“It’s not—” I start, but Dottie’s already waving her manicured hand,hush now, don’t ruin my fun.
“Oh, you don’t have to explain a thing.” Her words are syrupy sweet. “You two look downright cozy together. Made me want to bring out my wedding planner binder.”
“I…what?” I stammer, heat crawling up my neck. “No. No, we’re just?—”
“Friends,” Dottie finishes for me. She takes a delicate sip of her latte, her pinky cocked at an angle that should be illegal. “Mm hmm. Sure. Friends who make the whole town buzz.”
Ivy is staring at me like I just sprouted a second head. “Wait, Liv. Are you serious right now? After what happened, you’re still entertaining him?”
I laugh. A little too loudly, weird as the sound effect from a broken toy. “No! It’s not?—”
But before I can defend myself, Dottie sashays away, leaving a trail of gossip and peppermint latte in her wake.
But Ivy’s mom radar is beeping fast as a smoke detector at a Fourth of July barbecue.
“Liv,” she says slowly, tilting her head. “You told me it was over. Done. Because you heard him tell Leo he wasn’t seriousabout you. And now Dottie Langford, the Coyote Glen CIA, just implied otherwise. So…” She arches a brow, all casual menace. “What gives?”
I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “Ivy?—”
“Nope.” She holds up a finger, pure mom authority and zero mercy. “Do not start with the ‘it’s nothing’ speech, not after that. Dottie doesn’t make things up. She doesn’t need to. She’s got an endless buffet of drama served to her daily on a silver platter. So…” She leans in, demanding. “Spill.”
