“Yes, sir. She’s had me home for a while now, and it has been good for both of us. I will be sure to let her know you said hello when I tell her my embarrassing story of how Iwasted your time and the town’s precious resources today.” It’s a lie, all of it.I will not be telling her this story, now or ever. All she will do is lecture me and make me feel like garbage.
Chief Roberts huffed. “Lainey, no need to worry, we are happy to help, and happy that you’re safe. I was glad when your momma moved back to town. My wife missed her when she left all those years ago and they lost touch. It has been nice to have her back in Fox Grove where she belongs. As for you, young lady, let’s just take out the trash the traditional way next time, shall we?” My mom was always good at letting people see the sides of her she wanted them to in DC, and it seems like that’s not any different here in Fox Grove.
“Yes, sir.” I smile as I shake his warm, rough hand, and then he leads all his men away to the waiting trucks.
I only had one thing left to burn, and I have it clutched in my hands. The nostalgic gift from my birthday last year. It is a Lisa Frank knockoff notebook. Covered in kittens and butterflies. Absolutely hideous. Not my style and not up to par with the epic art that made Lisa a legend of my childhood. I kept this stupid thing and even used it for something thatactuallymattered to me because I was trying to give Brett the benefit of the doubt that he tried to get me something that was meaningful, thinking that he paid attention and cared about a story from my past.
I used it because I was too nice, a people pleaser through and through.
I used it because I wanted to makehimhappy, placate his ego, and make him think that the bare minimum on his partwas worthy of a gold star, a blow job, and seeing me write special things in the most un-special journal.
Now, I stand here waiting for the fire trucks to leave so I can toss in another thing I shouldn’t have to give up because a man can’t keep his promises—or keep his dick in his pants.
As soon as I reach out my hand to toss in the cat-covered nightmare, I hear, “You can’t be serious!” I shriek, jump back, drop the journal, and trip over my shoe. Once again, I’m being saved by a pair of strong arms.
“You scared the shit out of me! What are you still doing here?” I ask my firefighter, who is not looking thrilled to be saving meagain.
“I told Chief I would stick around and make sure the fire was totally out, and I wanted to make sure that you were okay. Why the fuck are you still burning shit after what just happened, Lainey?” he asks gruffly.
My name coming from his lips sends a shiver up my spine. I have never loved my name more than I do right this very minute.
“Well, you see, I umm Ionlyhavethisonethinglefttoburn,” I quickly mumble at him.
Rolling his eyes, he picks up my journal that landed at our feet when I jumped out of my skin. He gives it a disgusted look, like he can’t believe he is even touching something so hideous. “What the hell is this thing?”
“It was a gift.”
“It’s a nightmare. That dickwad actually thought a woman like you would want something like this?”
“Wellll, to be fair I had told him about my Lisa Frank notebook that I loved when I was a little girl ... But mine had puppies on it,” I say with a frown, not knowing why I’m being defensive about it. Looking at the knockoff kittens, one has a lazy eye, and I swear it kind of follows you like those creepy haunted house paintings. I shiver, andnot the good kind.
“Why would you keep it? He is such an idiot,” he grumbles. “This is obviouslynotLisa Frank, and not what you told him about. A gift is supposed to mean something to the person you are giving it to, not be some check mark and nightmare fuel.” His eyes meet mine with a sincerity that takes my breath away.
Who is this man?
“The reason it wasn’t the first thing in the fire is because of what I wrote in it.” I shift on my feet uncomfortably.
“What did you write in it?” His voice softens with the question, like he knew he was peeling back a delicate piece of me that might tear off and blow away like the ash from my bonfire if he wasn’t careful.
It made me want to give him honesty.
“I, um, like to write down things. Like quotes, song lyrics, or stuff that people have said that are memorable or mean something to me. Memories. So, I have one journal for each year and write down things throughout the year. On my birthday I pick out a new one and start over, saving the last one. Like my only little memory collection of moments that touched me or random things that I didn’t want to forget about that happened.Thiswas last year’s.” I reach out to take the journal back, but he pulls it away.
“So, you were going to burn a whole year of your life, your memories and traditions, because your ex is an asshole?” His eyes search my face, a soft kind of desperation asking me to give him more.
“I cannot havethatjournal in my house, my life. I can’t look at those stupid, creepy-eyed cats and not think about him, no matter how important the things I wrote inside are to me. I won’t ever be able to open it up again. I don’t want to touch it, so it doesn’t matter. I might as well burn it. Cleanse it and the whole year of bad decisions and being with him. There were so many red flags. How couldanything I wrote last year be worth keeping anyways?” A wave of shame rolls through me as I turn my face away from him.
“I think you’re being way too hard on yourself. I think you are letting the bad choices of a guy that took advantage of the best thing that will ever happen to him ruin something that has made you happy for a lot longer than he was ever around. Don’t let that piece of shit have any more power. Isn’t that the whole point of your little pyro show out here today? Don’t let him win, Lainey.”
“I can’t keep it, I absolutely can’t.” I can feel the tears starting to swell in my eyes, and the flood of emotions coming up is from trauma that has nothing to do with my breakup and everything to do with my upbringing. The constant reminder that I am not good enough for a man to choose me, love me, stick around, and pay attention to all the pieces of me that make up my soul.
“What if I help you out with it?” His calm voice once again pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
“Help me how? You don’t even know me? I don’t even know you ... I don’t even knowyour name. All I know is that you are a firefighter and probably think I’m insane.”
He chuckles. “Well, that is easy to sort out. First of all, you are Lainey Quinn, queen of a post-breakup barbecue cleanse. Your mom apparently knows my fire chief. I donotthink you are insane, just insanely beautiful ... And my name is Remington LeBlanc.”
Freaking. Swoon.
