Hell, Fire & Freedom (Fighting for Freedom) (8 page)

“Well, ma’am, thank you for supporting the Burn Unit; you know how much that means to us over at the station,” he says politely. She doesn’t seem fazed by the rejection at all. She winks at him before turning on her fabulous heels and walking through the front door.

I realize he’s now next in line, and I’m going to have to wait on him. Great.

Deep breaths, Brynn
.

I plaster on the biggest fake smile I can and hope I don’t look as embarrassed as I feel.

“Welcome to Frothy Moustache, how may I help you?” I breathe out. Yes, breathe out. My attempt at conveying professionalism is bogged down by my hormones again. What is it with this guy?

“Good day ... Brynn,” he says, staring at my chest. Wait, how did he know my name?

“Your name tag,” he answers with a knowing smirk. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Really glad I’ll be seeing more of you, too. There’s a line, though, so I won’t keep you. I’ll have six large black coffees and a dozen muffins. Your choice, of course.”

I notice he’s turned off the charm he usually radiates, and I know it’s because of the last time we
ran
in to each other. I should be relieved, but honestly I’m feeling a little disappointed.

I ring him through anxiously and call out his order to Amber, before setting about grabbing his muffins. I can feel his gaze burning through me, but I manage to keep my eyes from meeting his. I hand him his bag of baked goods and his tray of coffees that Amber passes me. He grabs a hold of my hand and pulls me forward so he can whisper in my ear.

“You’re still beautiful to me, Brynn. I know I promised, but I’m not sure I can stay away much longer when I’m going to be seeing
that body
here every day,” he all but growls. My guard drops completely. I look down at my tight T-shirt, and my black dress pants, and wonder what’s so great about my body. If he could see the bruising, he would run for the hills; it’s not exactly sexy.

I used to hate the bitter way Carl would say my name, but it sounds like a song rolling off Blaze’s tongue. I nod, feeling as though I should say something, but honestly, what else am I able to do with a body that just doesn’t seem to function in his presence? I’m used to being scared silent, but this is something different altogether. A good kind of something, I think. I watch him turn and walk away, and I have to admit, the view from the back is pretty great, too.

“Now what on Earth was that?” Wren demands, spinning me around.

I start to panic before realizing that she doesn’t look angry. Her eyebrows are arched, and she looks playful—generally curious—kind of like I’d expect Marie to react, I guess. I blush and mumble something about it being nothing before turning back to the next customer in line.

The rest of the day passes pretty quickly. I don’t miss the inquisitive looks Wren shoots me at every possible opportunity, however. I make sure to buy a calendar before leaving to meet Marie at school. I mean, who wouldn’t? I tuck it inside my purse, feeling like it’s something that just should only be seen in private. I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed about my attraction to him, but I feel like my body is betraying my mind. I don’t want to like Blaze, or any man for that matter. Not after all I have been through with Carl.

I arrive at Marie’s school early, but I’m not waiting long before she comes through the front double doors. She’s walking alone, but she doesn’t look unhappy. Good sign, right?

“How did your day go?” I ask cautiously, as we start walking back toward our apartment.

“It was good. The school is big and busy, but people still talked to me. I talked back some. I couldn’t help but feel like an imposter, though,” she says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Like, if only they knew I’m the dirty poor kid, they wouldn’t give me the time of day. I’m deceiving them,” she mumbles, looking down at her feet. I can tell she’s really hurting so I spin her around so that she’s facing me.

“Listen to me, Marie. There is nobody in this world that is more deserving of friends and a great life than you, always remember that. You are not dirty, nor have you ever been. You led a hard life that was completely beyond your control, but you will never be hungry or poor again. I promise you that. If I have to work eighteen-hour days shoveling dog shit, I’ll do it,” I say as quietly and firmly as I can. She sighs before she turns and starts walking again. I fall in step behind her.

“Brynn, I know that, I do. We just can’t change where we came from or who we are. I don’t know how to be a good friend or how to gossip. I’m not like most of those girls,” she says sadly.

“Are you crazy? You’re the best friend a girl could ever have. I know, because you
are
my best friend. You’re kind, loving, giving, warm, and to top it all off, you’re beautiful. So, no you may not be like most of the people in that school, but that’s because you are above all of that childishness, and that’s more than okay. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, and that includes gossiping. Sometimes that may not put you in the most popular crowd, but what does it matter when you’ve got amazing friends anyway? You’ve only got a little over a year left in high school, and then you’re off to college. So stay true to who you are, and remember that any person in that school would be lucky to call you a friend,” I plead.

Her eyes are glassy, and she looks a little lost, but I hope that I broke through on some level. We may be free of our past physically, but mentally and emotionally we still have a long way to go.

“Thanks, sis, not sure how I ever got so lucky to have you,” she chokes out.

“Ditto.”

We make our way back to the apartment where we decide on tacos for supper. I’m glad we did. I hadn’t had a taco since I was six, and it was delicious. I know that I’m putting on a bit of weight, and though it feels good to not technically have to worry, I also know that I can’t eat what I want forever. For tonight, though, I’m going to enjoy that freedom.

I grab my purse and pull out the calendar I brought home from work. That feeling of want deep in my belly rises up from the cover photo alone. For years I thought that all men were ruined for me, and I was fine with that, but with Blaze, it’s different. I’m sure he’s an asshole, chauvinistic pig deep down, too, but I can pretend with him at least. It’s not like anything will ever come from a harmless crush.

I take a deep breath and flip to the month of August. I feel my body’s reaction before my mind even registers what it’s seeing.

Oh. My. God.

The glossy photo shows Blaze outside of a burning building in a pair of yellow firemen’s pants and suspenders, hung low on his hips. He’s covered in dirt, soot, and sweat and he’s yielding an axe. Every muscle in his upper body is taut and hard. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life. My body aches with want.

I shut the calendar and throw it under my bed. What am I doing? I don’t want him. I don’t even like him. He’s kind of an arrogant asshole … or maybe he’s nice, what do I know? He’s confusing, I’ll give him that.

That’s because he feels guilty for witnessing your crazy ass panic attack
, I tell myself. Why am I even wasting my time thinking about him? I can just see the conversation now.

Hey Blaze, I hope you don’t mind, but I have a psychotic husband who I let abuse and rape me for five years because I am a weak piece of shit. Does that turn you on
?

I decide to forget about Blaze and enjoy my night with Marie. We put on Ferris
Bueller’s Day Off
and cuddle up with some popcorn. I fall asleep on the couch about halfway through the movie, but Marie wakes me up and helps me into bed.

Chapter 7

The next morning I wake Marie ten minutes earlier than usual. I lead her into the kitchen where I have a plate of sixteen pancakes piled high with a glittery pink candle on top.

“You remembered,” she says, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Of course I remembered!” I say, pretending to be offended. “I did it every year since I could cook. After I left, I sent the supplies to make them during your birthday week, but I knew Ma would never do it for you,” I say, instantly regretting bringing Ma into it.

“I managed on my own just fine. I always looked forward to my birthday week, knowing you were thinking of me, too,” Marie says shyly.

“Stop with the sappiness, it’s your birthday! Now blow out that candle,” I order.

She rushes over and blows the candle out on her first attempt.

“Happy birthday, Marie,” I say excitedly before handing her the bottle of maple syrup.

“I’m sorry you have school on your birthday, but I was hoping this would make it a little easier,” I say, pulling the purple gift bag that I had hidden behind the island up onto the counter.

“Well, I already didn’t mind school, so this is a bonus,” she says enthusiastically.

“Don’t get too excited until you open it.”

I hand her the bag and hope for the best. She pulls out the fiery red tank top first. When I saw it in the window display on my way to pick her up from school one day, I knew it would be perfect. It’s ruched along the sides, and the neck dips down into a V.

“Oh my God, this is incredible; you didn’t have to do this,” she says, feeling the soft material.

“Fortunately, my sister’s beautiful. She’s kind of easy to dress,” I say with a wink. “So really, it was my pleasure.”

I watch as she dips her hand into the bag again and comes back with a pair of dark washed Lucky Brand skinny jeans.

I actually hear her squeal.

I give myself an inner pat on the back, and am incredibly thankful for my new job and the opportunity to provide for Marie. Of course, once the money from the pawn shop is gone, I’m sure I won’t be able to afford designer jeans, but it can’t hurt to spoil her once on her sweet sixteen.

“Just one more thing,” I say, pulling a little box out of my back pocket before handing it to her. She opens the box eagerly and sees the new pair of large silver hoops I bought her.

“Brynn, I don’t even know what to say,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had. Seriously, you didn’t need to do all of this, though. The pancakes were more than enough.”

“Well, it’s only just begun. I’m making dinner and dessert tonight, and then we’re going bowling,” I say, laughing.

“Bowling?” she asks curiously.

“Yes, bowling. You know, wearing other people’s wonky shoes, throwing heavy bowling balls down the gutter. Normal people stuff.”

“Thank you, this is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” she whispers, before taking a big bite of her pancakes.

I wonder if she knows it’s one of the best days of my life, too.

~

I find myself waiting for Blaze to come into the café that morning, but he never shows. I recognized another fire fighter from the calendar, though, so maybe it was his day off. I admit defeat, and take my break with a cheese scone and a peppermint tea. That’s when he slides into the seat beside me.

“Sorry, there were no other seats,” he says pulling an almond croissant out of his bag. “I hope you don’t mind.” I gaze up at his face. He looks anything but remorseful, instead he’s smirking like a cat who caught finally his mouse.

I scan the café, and like always, we’re packed. Maybe he really did just need a place to sit. I let my eyes wander back to Blaze who’s wearing a grey t-shirt and black running shorts. He’s eating casually, but his eyes are studying mine.

“That’s fine, I should be getting back to work anyway,” I say awkwardly, and begin putting the barely touched scone back into the bag. He stops me by placing his hand softly over top of mine.

“Please, Brynn. I would love it if you’d sit with me. I promise, no napkins, no clumsiness, I’d just like to eat lunch with you,” he says with a sincerity that surprises me.

It also doesn’t escape my notice that his big, strong hand is still resting on mine, and I pray he can’t feel my pulse quicken. I decide to let my guard down, just a little.

“Of course,” I say, using all of my willpower to pull my hand away from his. I look back down at my scone, which doesn’t look nearly as appetizing as he does.
What am I doing here
?

“My name is Blaze, by the way. I’m a firefighter just down the street. The Frothy Moustache is kind of a staple for us,” he says casually.

I nod, unsure of what else to say. I can’t even look him in the eyes without wanting to giggle like a school girl.

We eat for a few more minutes in silence until I figure it’s about time for me to get back to work. I search deep inside of myself for the courage to speak to him.

“Thanks for the company, Blaze. I’ll see you around,” I say, gathering my mug and the remnants of my scone.

“The pleasure has been all mine,” he says warmly. I chance a quick look at him before returning to work.

The next month continues in a similar manner. Blaze seems to show up during my break daily, always sitting at my table. We talk about the cafe, food, weather, and any similar interests we have and I’m glad he doesn’t push me for anything too personal. I start to feel really comfortable around him and look forward to seeing him during the work week.

I mention him to my therapist who encourages me to keep talking to him. Marie does wonderfully in school and has even made the swim team. Her teachers say she’s doing well, but she’s still resistant to make friends—she seems to be letting people in slowly, though.

We call Ma at the hospital, but she’s not doing very well. They are lowering her sedation little by little to see how she reacts as the withdrawals become less intense. She’s still not very pleasant, but when has she ever been?

Doctor Enman calls back to let us know what was lacking in Marie’s blood work and luckily, she seems healthy aside from a few vitamin deficiencies. We pick up some supplements and hope her levels improve.

Then one Wednesday Blaze doesn’t show up during my break, or at all that day. Thursday and Friday pass and still no sign of Blaze. I find I’m actually disappointed when the weekend rolls around, and I know there’s no chance of seeing him again. I’m guessing he got bored with our small talk. I’ve never been that great of a friend, to be honest. In fact, toward him, I’ve been pretty cruel in the past. Not on purpose most of the time, though, the wind always feels knocked out of me when he sits down beside me. I become too nervous to open my mouth or even look in his direction. Once he starts talking, I’m fine, but that sexy smile … it renders me speechless.