Once I’mout of earshot, I make a quick call.
“Hello?” the voice on the other end of the line sounds hesitant, confused.As he should be.
“Hey, Fire. I’m headed to Jersey to see Mom,” my tone clipped. “Want to bring someone by.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. Too long. “Someone?”
“Yeah.” I may be as cryptic as hell, but that’s the way it needs to be with Fire. I’m not ready to dive deep into conversation with this asshole. At least not yet. But I need him enough to tolerate any demons where he’s concerned.
He lets out a baffled chuckle. “Okay, I’ll see you when you get here.”
After discussing it with Charlene, she agreed to visit Fire while we’re in town. Given everything she has been through, I was surprised to learn she hadn’t taken any formal self-defense training classes before. She said she’d participated in a few classes in high school, but they were elementary at best. Apparently Candy Cane Key was more focused on quirky holiday silliness than self-protection. She hadn’t found an opportunity to enroll in anything better without needing to close her salon and risk driving to a neighboring town.
Despite my past with Fire, he's the best self-defensive trainer I know. And if this is something Char wants, I’ll put up with him to make sure she has the best possible outcome.
The driveback to New Jersey feels different this time. Char’s in the passenger seat, curled up under my old Princeton sweatshirt, humming along to some country song that I only halfway know. She doesn’t talk much, but she doesn’t have to. Just having her with me feels like sunlight after a decade of dense fog.
When we finally pull into the parking lot of Mom’s apartment she’s already waiting at the door, apron tied, hair pinned up. I swear she’s glowing. I haven’t seen her like this in years.
“David!” she calls, waving. Then her eyes land on Char, and she practically lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, this must beher.” Mom’s not subtle.
Char blushes, offering a small wave. “Hi, Mrs. Newtown.”
“Call me Valerie, sweetheart. Come in, both of you. It’s so cold out. I’ve got everything set up to make soup and sugar cookies.”
I feel like I’ve entered an alternate universe. Shaking the cobwebs from my mind, I stagger to recall the last time she looked and sounded this… normal. She seems healthy and vibrant. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
In the kitchen, the three of us settle into a rhythm that feels like it’s always existed. Me chopping vegetables, Mom mixing icing colors, and Char pressing cookie cutters into dough like she’s done it a thousand times before.
“Did you cook with your mother?” Mom asks gently.
Char’s smile falters. “No. She wasn’t… domestic.”
Without thinking, I slide an arm around her shoulders. Her muscles tense for a beat before she softens against me.
“Well,” Mom says brightly, “I hope you won’t mind cooking withus. It’s kind of our thing.”
The crack in Char’s voice when she answers almost undoes me. “I’d like that a lot.”
Later, I make a pot of tea and send them off to get to know oneanother while I tackle the dishes. Their laughter drifts in from the living room, and when I finally wander in, I have to grip the doorway to steady myself.
Char is sitting cross-legged on the rug, painting Mom’s nails a shade of rose pink, both of them giggling like teenagers.
For a man who’s run into burning buildings, I’ve never felt more undone. This woman… this broken, brave woman has managed to heal us both without even realizing it.
A few days later,Fire agrees to meet us in person. He sizes Char up with the wary precision of a man who’s seen too much. “This one must be different,” he says to me, not caring that she’s standing right here.
But why would he? This man lives to shock people.
“Why?” The question escapes before I can stop myself, instantly regretting it.
“For you to call me.” He smirks, giving her a devilish grin that makes me want to throat punch the S.O.B. “Hi.” He extends his hand to Char. “I’m Holt. Holt Firestone. But you can call me Fire.” He winks.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “I swear, if you lay one?—”
“Stop.” His tone cuts through my words. “Regardless of what you think of me, I’d never do that to you.”
Char’s head snaps back and forth between us. I can only imagine the questions I’ll have to answer once we’re alone.
