Page 2 of Ablaze

I suppose I can’t blame her, especially not when you’ve lived through the horror she’s experienced.

As if she can feel me, she turns to watch me walk toward her before a wisp of hair gets caught between her lips and she pulls it off to tuck it behind her ear, darting her gaze away from mine.

“You promised you wouldn’t run away,” I start. “You promised to–”

“No, Dean.” She shuffles to her feet quicker than I would have thought possible given how cold she looked. “You fucking promised. You promised nothing would change. You promised that night wouldn’t affect us. Remember that? But it did, didn’t it? It changed everything! And all the years prior to that, when you told me you couldn’t, wouldn’t mess up what we have . . . or should I say, what we had?” She points between us. “What happened to that promise, huh?” She looks over at the lake with rage in her eyes. “I waited for you. Eight fucking years I stood on the sidelines, waiting for you . . .”

“Yeah?” I yell. “As if I fucking didn’t? You think you’re the only one who had front-row seats to watch a show you never wanted to see?”

She takes a step closer, her nostrils flaring. “So why didn’t you say anything when you had the chance? Why wait until I was finally moving on?”

“Moving on? Is that what you call it, sprinkles?” I chuckle mirthlessly. “Because the way I see it, you weren’t moving on; you were running.”

Her eyes sharpen on me. “Yeah, okay, I was running. But have you taken even one moment to consider why? Or is that too hard for you to do, given your brick of a brain?” She seethes. “I was running because I was fucking tired. Tired of waiting, tired of wanting and wishing–”

I heave in a shaky breath, letting the cold air compress my lungs as I hang on her words for dear life. Words she’s cut off, like if she says them, they’ll float away with the wind. “Wishing for what?”

She shakes her head, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but the moment she does, another tear falls to replace it. “It doesn’t matter.” She chuckles hoarsely. “Why would it matter? I’m not the one who can make it matter. I never have been.”

I close the distance between us, rounding my palms over her biceps and making her look up at me. “Wishing for what, Mala? Say it.”

She sniffles, her tear-stained cheeks shining under the silvery effulgence of the night. Her frown intensifies as she whispers, “For it to be me.”

Part One

THE PAST

Theme Song: “You Belong With Me” by Taylor Swift

Chapter One

DEAN

Nine Years Ago

I swing the clapper of the bell against the lip, making it ring a few times. “Lunch!” I call up the stairs, alerting my crew. “Come and get your gourmet meal of burgers and fries, ladies and gentlemen.”

It was mine and Baron’s turn to prep and make lunch today, but with the sheer number of dispatch calls we’ve had over the past forty-something hours, I’m bone tired. I don’t know if it’s the unexpected rain over the past week or the alignment of the stars, but it feels like every Tom, Dick, and Henrietta decided to have an emergency.

And while I can hope that the next–I gaze up at the clock on the kitchen wall–four hours of my shift are less exciting than the past forty-four hours have been, I won’t hold my breath in my possibly charred lungs.

A stampede of footsteps resounds over the stairs as the rest of the crew at Tahoe Valley Fire Station come barreling down to the kitchen.

“Damn, you both have outdone yourselves today!” Malcolm grins, coming behind me and Baron, giving our shoulders a squeeze. “I love when you make burgers from scratch, Dean. Thanks, brothers!”

I tilt my head toward the salad and array of dressings on the counter, knowing most of the crew, besides Coolidge and Samantha, won’t touch it. “Make sure to get your daily quota of roughage in. You know how it goes; put a little roughage in, and it won’t be so rough coming out.” I wink before grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

Samantha wrinkles her nose before picking out a few olives from her plate and putting them back into the salad bowl. “Anyone know where Rohan is? I thought he was on shift today.”

Malcolm and I exchange a glance before I fill my glass from the tap. Samantha joined our fire department two weeks ago, and while she may think she hides it well, it’s clear she’s developed a crush on one of my best friends.

Malcolm clears his throat. “He took a couple of days off to help his little sister move into her new apartment. He’ll be on shift tomorrow.”

Samantha nods, but I don’t miss the slump in her shoulders.

“She ain’t that little anymore from what I could tell.” Baron winks at Malcolm. “They were on a video call a few days ago, and oof!” Baron blows out some air from between his lips. “She ain’t the kid Rohan makes her out to be. The girl’s a knockout!”

I shake my head, holding in my response. Telling these guys that Rohan’s little sister is so off-limits she should be considered government-classified will just fall on deaf ears. Over the past two weeks he’s known Mala was going to move back to Tahoe, Rohan has made it abundantly clear that unless we’re ready to part with the appendage between our legs, we are to keep our eyes above her neck.

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