“You know who else is getting older?” she quizzes. I already know what she’s going to say and want no part in it. “You. You know who else? That young man that you seemed so fond of.”
“Gran…” It’s a warning.
That she doesn’t take. “Brynleigh, I understand your concern, but you need to stop worrying and go get him.”
At least once a day. That’s how often she brings this up. I’m not sure who was more devastated the day I broke things off. When I came home, Gran knew something was wrong and managed to get the truth out of me, even though I wanted to hold it back a few more days. If for no other reason than I didn’t want to hear her hassle me about it, because I knew she would, and I was right.
But she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how it feels to constantly worry that today might be her final day. That one day I’ll be in this big house without her. Do a puzzle without her. Sit in the backyard and enjoy the sunshine and morning coffee without her. She doesn’t understand that I need all of those memories to keep me going long after she’s left me.
Wyatt understood. He didn’t fight it, not like she has, and I’m grateful for that. It’s exhausting to continue to tell her that now isn’t the right time for Wyatt—or anyone. Sometimes I wish I could lie to her and tell her that I am seeing him again, just so she leaves me alone. But then I’d need to fake dates with him, and that would take me away from her, and at that point I might as well just date him for real.
Her hand covers mine, forcing my eyes to meet hers. I know she sees the sheen of moisture in them when her face softens, and she sighs.
“Sweetheart, I know I scared you, but that doesn’t mean you stop living your life,” she says, no sass or firmness in her tone now. “You know I always say a good scare keeps me young. This whole thing added ten extra years to my life.”
I choke out a laugh, squeezing her hand. “The ten you took from me.”
She smiles. “You’re going to live a long, healthy life full ofbeautiful moments with lots of babies and the love of a good man. I know it.”
“One day, Gran,” I promise her, sandwiching her hand between both of mine. “One day, I promise.”
The real reason I dressed up for work today just walked into the bar, causing my stomach to swoop to my toes. God, he looks good. Black cowboy hat. Black t-shirt with a logo I can’t see from here. And those damn jeans that fit perfectly on an ass that says he never skips leg or glute day.
When he looks in the direction of the bar, I avert my eyes, casting them down to the lemon wedges I’m putting on the rim of a table’s water glasses. Part of me wants to adjust my skirt, which is borderline too short but still covers everything. It’s one reason I never wear it to work. It’s more of a going out with the girl’s kind of skirt.
Savanna sidles up next to me, bumping her hip against mine. “Ready for tonight?”
It’s Thursday night which means karaoke, and one of my favorite nights to work. Not just for the tips, but for the entertainment. The place is already busy, and I know it’s only going to get busier from here.
“Yeah,” I tell her, placing the water on my tray and adding the drinks that our bartender, Martin, put on the counter for me. “If you want to go sit with everyone, though, I’ve got this.”
“Oh, no,” she tells me, shaking her head. “That’s a closed table meeting.”
That grabs my attention, and I turn to face her. “A what?”
“Oh right! I haven’t seen you,” she starts, dropping her voice and glancing around, “Did you hear about that arsonist?”
“Wyatt told me about a suspected arsonist—that one?”
She nods, her blonde ponytail bobbing with the movement. “They think the person might be targeting them.”
“Them?” My voice is shrill even to me, and I cringe. Swallowing, I bring my tone down to match hers. “Like Nate and Wyatt and everyone?”
Again, she nods. “Yeah. I mean, they can’t say for sure because other districts had fires too, but the last few happened when the guys were on shift.”
“So this guy—or girl, I suppose—is just starting a bunch of fires when they’re on shift?” I ask, subtly nudging my head in the direction of their table.
“Yeah. When I quizzed Nate on it, he said they’re usually male, a lot of the time they’re young, and usually withdrawn.” Like she’s unable to help it, her eyes slide towards the table, and I know she’s looking at her husband. “He said that arsonists can escalate. At first this guy only torched some treed areas, which in California is ridiculously dangerous anyway, but he burned a shed down the last time. It could just get worse from here.”
She wraps her arms around herself, a shiver rolling through her. It’s obvious the idea of this guy escalating freaks her out, and while I don’t shiver like she does, the thought of someone out there lighting fires that my friends need to face makes me uneasy. Even though they know what they’re doing.
“I just hope they find this guy before someone gets hurt. Maybe it’s just a bunch of shitty teenagers seeing what they can get away with,” she sighs, her eyes coming back to meet mine. “Dangerous as it is, if it was just trees and brush he was going after, he might be doing them a favor by burning off dead stuff.I could handle that. It’s the thought of everything else, of them being targets…”
When she trails off, I look over at the table full of first responders, my stomach fluttering when I meet Wyatt’s eyes. Heat races to my cheeks because his eyes are locked on me, their intensity making my knees weak.
Fear for my friends mingles with the misplaced desire flooding my system for a man I deemed off limits.
I don’t know if I was smart to put this outfit on or absolutely moronic. It was me who broke things off with him, so trying to impress him is ridiculous. Yet, I found myself wanting to when I was getting ready. Selfishly wanting his eyes on me.
