Playing with Fire

He did make a promise to me, even though he’d sworn to never do that.

I opened my mouth, not sure what was going to come out of it.

“Nobody knows exactly what happened the night of the fire.”

His chest flexed beneath my head, like I’d knocked the air out of him.

“Rumors around town spread like wildfire, but nothin’ had been confirmed, and I’d like to keep it that way. That’s why I don’t advertise it.”

Plus, reliving the worst night of my life wasn’t exactly my favorite pastime.

I twirled the flame ring around my finger, watching it intently, and suddenly hating it with a passion.

Hating Courtney for never giving it to me in person.

For not being there when the bandages came off.

For not taking responsibility for what she’d created—me.

West stroked my hair. My yellow and gold locks fanned across his bronzed skin. It looked beautiful. Like the sunset.

He should marry a blonde. The thought came out of nowhere, clogging up my throat. Like who, you?

“There’s not advertising it, and there’s not acknowledging it ever happened. I’ve known you for months, and you haven’t mentioned it,” West said.

I closed my eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. I want to know everything, Tex.”

One more tiny breath.

One last kiss to his chest.

Then I dove in, telling him what only Karlie and Marla knew.

“It was just another night. A Tuesday, actually. It always surprises me, how the days that reshape and change our lives forever start so ordinary and unassuming. Grams was workin’ two jobs at the time. Her day job was at a cafeteria in a middle school in town, and her afternoon job was helpin’ out at the local grocery store. But she still insisted on cookin’ me homemade meals and being there for my cheerleadin’ gigs and my plays. She was exhausted. And forgetful. All the freakin’ time.”

I took a deep breath, pushing through the details. It was like going uphill in the midst of a snowstorm.

“I had a boyfriend at the time. His name was Tucker. He was a football player. Popular, handsome, comes from a good, known family here in Sheridan. He stayed the night that day. He stayed the night often, but when Grams came home, he’d slip out through my bedroom window, so by the time she woke me up in the morning with waffles, he wasn’t there wrapped around me. She called him The Octopus,” I recalled, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Since the day she found him in my bed, our limbs were tangled together.”

“We can skip the parts where other guys touch you,” West grumbled.

“The window was rusty, so it made a cracklin’ sound I’d gotten used to.”

I felt him nodding, but he didn’t say anything. My chest hurt. Each word that passed through my mouth felt like chewing and swallowing glass.

“I was asleep when it happened. Grams came home, probably late. She fixed herself some gin and tonic, lit a cigarette, and sat downstairs. Finished her drink and went up to her room.

“The worst part was that I heard the crackling sound, after the cigarette ember caught and moved across the couch, but I was so tired, I thought it was the sound of the window when Tucker sneaked out, not knowing that he’d left an hour before Grams came home.”

The memory was fresh and real, the scent of the fire assaulted my nostrils, my lungs filling with black smoke. I could see what happened next vividly behind my eyelids. I opened my eyes in the dark, my heart galloping against West’s chest. He secured his arm over my back, pressing me so deeply against him, I thought I was going to drown in his body.

“I’d only realized what was happenin’ when I started coughin’. I sat up in my bed and looked around. Something was wrong. Smoke rolled from the door crack. The room wasn’t that foggy, but the clouds that seeped in from under the door were dark and hot. I jumped out of bed and called for Grams. Her room was at the end of the hall. I got out of my room and saw that the fire reached the second floor. It was dancin’ across the top stairway. I swear it looked like it was taunting me, West.” My words tripped over one another. A lone, fat tear rolled down my cheek, landing on his bare chest. The second it hit his skin, he groaned, almost like he’d sucked all the pain out of me and felt it in his bones.

His lips brushed the crown of my head. “You don’t have to continue.”

But I wanted to. For the first time, I wanted to get this off of my chest. To cleanse myself of the burden of knowing the truth and keeping it from the world.

I took another breath, soldiering on.