From Air (Wildfire)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

CALVIN

“Don’t give me that look,” Jamie says.

I’m not sure what look she’s referencing. Is it the there’s-no-fucking-way-I’m-letting-you-wear-that-leather-teddy-out-in-public look? Or is it the I-can’t-believe-I-let-you-talk-me-into-this-mouse-costume look? The same look works for both. Either way, I’m rethinking this party idea.

I don’t know if my long tail, pink nose, and whiskers do it for her, but I’ve never wanted to fuck a pussy so bad in my life. This woman looks more like a dominatrix than a cat.

“If you would have planned ahead of time, there would have been a bigger selection of costumes.” She practices whipping my pillow while I sulk in front of the mirror on my wall.

Her leather teddy barely covers her boobs. And the bottom of it doesn’t fully cover her ass.

“But let’s be honest, had there been a bigger selection, I still would have bought you the mouse costume. You have a few wrongs to right in the mouse community. Think of this as community service or a form of rehabilitation.” Again, she whips my pillow.

I adjust my erection so I don’t look like a mouse with a tumor. And yes, she bought the costume because I refused.

“Let’s go so we can hurry and leave the party.” I head toward the stairs just as Will opens his bedroom door dressed in his Jack Skellington costume.

He presses a fist to his mouth and sniggers. “Jesus, what the fuck, man?”

Before I can knock out his teeth, the wicked kitty steps out of my room. Will’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead as he drops his fist.

“Will! I love your Jack Skellington,” she squeals, jumping up and down.

“You look ...” He whistles and shakes his head.

“Don’t look at her,” I warn just as she spins in a circle. “And don’t spin around.” I grab her shoulders and lead her down the stairs.

As soon as we get to the party, I fetch a drink from the cooler in the backyard. Alcohol is my best friend tonight. It will take the edge off the snickering behind my back.

Gary, Captain America, rests his elbow on my shoulder. Leaning against me like a pillar, he nods toward Jamie, her usual life-of-the-party self, with a group of women, including Evette. She certainly garners a lot of attention for someone who claims not to be a people person.

“As if showing up to my party in this mouse onesie didn’t already scream ‘pussy whipped.’ You actually brought a pussy with a whip.”

I don’t want to laugh, but I can’t help my grin. “Shut the fuck up.”

Gary cackles. “Seriously, man. I know she thinks she’s a cat, but she’s—”

“Don’t say it.”

A wet dream.

“Is she coming back to Missoula after her assignment in California?”

“I doubt it. She wants to travel the country. Why would she come back here?”

Gary stops using me as a post and turns toward me. “You. Ya dickhead.”

“She’s here now, but she’s not living here.” I take a long swig of my beer.

“Don’t you want to be with her?”

I nod toward her. “Here we are. See how easy that was?”

He shakes his head. “She’s in California. What happens when she’s someplace like Maine, working nights, less time off, longer and more expensive flights, and you’re in the middle of a long fire season? What kind of relationship is that?”

After staring at her for a few seconds, I shrug. “It is what it is.”

“Dang, Fitz. Whatever you do, don’t say those words to her. Women don’t like aloofness. Todd, what the hell are you supposed to be?” Gary heads toward the garage door, where Todd’s gesturing to his chest, but I’m not sure why.

Wicked Kitty, with her painted face, makes eye contact with me and worms her way in my direction from the opposite end of the porch. “Cheese?” She holds out her plate.

“You think that’s funny?”

She pops a cube into her mouth. “It’s not not funny.”

“What are your plans after you’re done in San Bernardino?”

“Don’t know yet. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

A tiny vein along her forehead pushes to the surface. “You’re a locked vault with some things, and with other things, you’re so transparent it’s cringeworthy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I steal a spiderweb pretzel from her plate.

“You’re scared to death that I’m going to move back to Missoula, and you’ll have to make a real decision to commit.” She turns.

I ogle her scantily clad body as it distances itself from me, getting lost in the sea of costumes. Am I supposed to go after her? I don’t know how this works.

Pinching my lips, the mouse chases the cat to the porch and into the house.

“What did you do?” Maren eyes me while I shoulder my way through the kitchen.

I brush her off with a quick headshake.

As I start up the stairs, a scarecrow grabs me. I’m pretty sure it’s Evette. She points to the front door.

“Thanks,” I mumble, changing directions.

A few late arrivals make their way up the drive, illuminated with LED pumpkins. My cat is walking down the sidewalk.

I chase after her. “We’re two miles from the house. It’s cold. Are you really walking all the way in that getup?”

“I know I don’t pack out of fires with a hundred and fifty pounds on my back, but I’m capable of walking two miles in fifty-degree weather.”

“Can we talk?” I keep several steps behind her.

She whips around. “I don’t know, Fitz. Can we talk?”

I hold up my hands. “Is this just about what I asked you? How did we go from what happened in the shed earlier today to this?”

“Exactly!” She throws her arms in the air and nearly takes out my eye with her whip. “How can we have that kind of sex, that kind of passion, and hours later, you ask me that question? The tattoos. The surprise visit. The trip after I was assaulted. The invitation to come for this party.” She shakes her head. “How can all that lead to you worrying that I might want to be with you? Really be with you .”

My lips part to respond, and she holds up a hand.

“Before you say one word, I need you to know that I’m not saying I’m planning to move back here immediately. I do, in fact, have career goals. I do want to travel and make money to buy a house. I’m twenty-six and in no hurry to settle down into a life of marriage and family. However, it would be really fucking nice if the guy I love would at least pretend to want to be with me.” She shoves my chest.

“Goddammit! I do want to be with you. And I want my awful fucking past to disappear from my mind forever. I want a different life with a different set of circumstances. But I don’t want to pretend with you.” I rake my fingers through my hair and lace them behind my neck. “I don’t know what kind of cruel god would bring you into my life. Even if I deserve to see what I can never truly have, even if I deserve to suffer, you don’t deserve anything short of ...” Shaking my head repeatedly, I tear at my stupid costume until I manage to escape its confines. “Everything.” My shoulders curl inward, ripped costume in one hand, my other hand balled into a fist. “You deserve everything, Jaymes. You deserve everything beautiful in this world. You deserve everything I want to give you but can’t.”

She wipes tears from her painted face, smearing it everywhere. “You’re right. I deserve everything,” she seethes. “So do the right fucking thing, and give it to me.”

Stepping closer, she bravely lifts her chin despite her trembling lips. “It was a car accident. It was tragic, but so many things are tragic. I don’t understand. You’re too strong. It doesn’t make sense. My dad suffered a stroke. That’s tragic. My mom died of cancer. Tragic. Life is tragic.” She wipes more tears. “Give me everything .” Her hand covers her mouth, and she swallows hard, swallows her sob, swallows the pain.

I’m her pain.

“Don’t love me like a martyr,” she whispers thickly, strangled with emotion. “Love me like a hero. Jump without looking back.” Her eyes pinch shut, releasing more tears while she inhales shakily. “Fight for me. Save us .”