There is no way my beautiful girl ishere, behind this apartment building playing pyro. Her smoke signal calling me right to her.
3
Lainey
Red flags. So many freaking red flags. But do I do anything about them? Of course I don’t. I ignore them. I pretend they are pink and hope they will bloom into something pretty that can be planted into a garden one day. Stupid. But I should know better, I only propagate weeds in my life, and I am never fast enough to pluck them before they start to rot everything around them.
Me.Iam the thing that suffers and rots.
“When people show you who they are you should believe them.” That saying is popular for a damn good reason. I’m an optimist to the point of pain. Pain that has obviously done some serious damage. I want to be loved and accepted so badly I’ve allowed bad behavior ineveryone of my relationships. Brett’s red flags have been there all along, but the ones waving right in front of my face from just this trip alone should have been much more obvious if I wasn’t so busy trying to grow a garden in a pile of toxicity.
I should know better, flowers have no place in my life.
The lukewarm hug and dispassionate kiss he gave me after not seeing each other forthree months? Red flag.
Telling me he had to askmy motherfor a birthday gift idea for me, even though we have been dating for over a year? Red flag. Especially since he should know my mother wouldn’t know what to get me. She doesn’t really know me well enough to be able to hand out sound gifting advice like a good mother should. One of her many red flags, but we are not talking about her right now.
Last year Brett gave me a thoughtful, nostalgic gift that was absolutely terrible. But I could tell he actually put in some effort, and for me it really is the thought that counts. This time he brought me an ugly yellow tumbler—I freakinghateyellow—and a drip coffee maker for my kitchen. I don’t even drink regular coffee, and at home I always have tea. It is like he shopped for a total stranger, not his girlfriend. Red-freaking-flag!
The red flag that makes me want to puke and has me out behind my apartment building burning things in the community barbecue pit? Brett had sex with me—terrible, unsatisfying, uncomfortable sex—an hour before our miserable Sugar Cube breakfast. He knew full well he wanted to break up, had been cheating on me, andstillslept with me. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow to be tested for alllll the things. Even though he always wore a condom with me, I feel completely disgusted. Five hot showers later, practically rubbing my body raw, and my skin is still crawling thinking about that slimy asshole.
Did Junebug know he was going to fuck me? What kind of bullshit lies and story was he telling her?Ugh, I was literally going to be sick.
The few pictures I had printed of the two of us that I had pinned to my fridge and an old newspaper article about the gala burned first. Our happy smiles from our first picture together, the night we met at a charity gala event my PR firmput together, singed, melting the plastic and the pretense of what could have been. That is what our whole relationship was for him apparently: an elaborate flash of smoke and mirrors. Tricking me and trying to mold me into something convenient to fill his time or a fuck when he felt like it.
Brett’s favorite hat, any lingerie I had worn for him, and his college fraternity sweatshirt all went up in flames quickly. Next went my bedsheets we unfortunately shared and his cologne. A giant ball of smokey heat engulfed them as they caught fire. I yelped and jumped back, landing into what felt like a brick wall ... but a brick wall that apparently had arms?
I screamed again, fighting against this stranger until I heard his smooth, deep voice in my ear. “Hey, hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. That fire is getting a little out of control, and I’m gonna need you to back up now.”
Whipping around, ready to fight for my fire-cleanse rights, but the words get lost when my eyes land on his honey-dipped amber ones. His sandy blond hair, cut jawline, and slightly crooked nose are lit up by my little bonfire. I simply nod and do as he says.
I suddenly hear sirens in the distance and my eyes go wide. “Oh no! What’s that?”
“That would be my guys, coming to help with your little pyro party for one apparently. What the hell are you burning? This is a family barbecue area. Is that some kind of ... clothing?” he almost murmurs to himself, looking into the flames and ashes that are much more smoke than fire now that the sheets are fully engulfed.
“Ummm, it’s my bedding,” I whisper as the fire trucks pull up, and I hope the noise blocks out my reply. Suddenly, a small explosion comes from the fire, and before I know what’s happening I am pressed flat on the ground, covered up by the impressive height, weight, and strength of a stranger. Mybrain is slow to catch up to what is happening, but as he flips me over to my back the heat that rolls through my body has absolutely nothing to do with my bedding bonfire.
“Are you okay?” he gruffly asks, pulling away from me and helping me back to my feet. He backs up a few steps, brushing off grass and dirt from his long-sleeve, navy-blue Fox Grove Fire Department shirt.
Am I okay?“Yeah, yeah ... I am so sorry about that. I guess I wasn’t, umm ...” My voice trails off as I look back to the fire and then to the flashing lights of the fire trucks. Men are coming toward us in a rush, and I gulp in embarrassment. “I guess that means you’re a firefighter?” I ask my stranger-turned-hero for saving me from blowing myself up with the world’s most basic cologne.
“I am, and I need to ask again, ma’am ... what exactly were you burning?”
“Ugh, I was trying to cleanse myself of my stupid ex-boyfriend’s existence in my life and wasn’t exactly thinking totally straight. After burning some pictures, fortunately his favorite hat and hoodie, unfortunately my favorite lingerie, and my bedding, I also tossed his bottle of cologne onto the sheets. Probably not the best idea, but I just needed itoutof my apartment and ...”And I am rambling.I look up to see him smirking at me.
“I definitely have some follow-up questions to all of that, but first how about a name?” he says keeping his tone of voice serious but trying to hold back a full grin that would most likely make me combust exactly like that cologne bottle.
Before I can answer, three other firefighters reach me and my hero.Yeah, I have already claimed him as mine in my brain after just swearing offallmen at the start of this disaster of a do-over. What the hell is wrong with me?Heshakes hands with the older man that must be in charge and gets him up to speed on what is happening.
Thankfully, all that’s left in the barbecue pit are some small flames, smoldering ashes, and my dignity. They are talking, and all I can think about is how fastmyfirefighter sprang into action. The way he felt pressed against me, protecting me from the fire and frommyself,if I’m going to be honest.
“Ma’am,” the older man in charge addresses me. “We are glad that you’re safe and this was not a more serious situation, but we have to ask that you donotuse the community cookout area for your, ahh, fire cleanse.” His dark, wrinkled brow creases even further as he says those final words.
“Yes, and I amSOsorry. I promise that this will never happen again. It was the result of a shitty breakup and me not thinking it through all the way, clearly. Science 101 and all that. I really know better than to put that in there.” I sigh, adding, “And please, call me Lainey. I’m Lainey Quinn.”
“Quinn? You must be Ann’s little girl. Well, not so little anymore, I guess. I’m Chief Roberts. I have known your momma for a long time. She talks ’bout you when I see her up at the bank. She must be happy to have you back around all the time?”
Chief Roberts smiles at me kindly now that he knows that I am the daughter of the most passive lady on the planet—unless you are her daughter. Hopefully my mom has earned me some points here today. She works at the local bank and has a good pulse for what’s happening in town. When I told her I was moving here two years ago after my internships and other obligations were complete, she was as surprised as I was. We don’t have the best relationship, but I wanted Fox Grove to be a place where we could start fresh. So far, it’s been areally slowstart, making me wonder why I’m still trying so hard and if moving here was the smartest choice.
