From Air (Wildfire)

Chapter Forty-Five

CALVIN

“Want to talk?” Gary pulls out the chair next to my sewing machine and straddles it backward.

“About?” I stay focused on the zipper.

“Jamie.”

“What about her?”

“It’s a week before Christmas, and I’m just now finding out that your life imploded over Thanksgiving.”

“ Implode is a strong word. Who couldn’t keep their mouth shut?”

“Maren talked to Evette.”

Figures.

“You finally shared your past,” he says.

Gary’s one of a handful of people who have known for years how my family died. He knows his fires. He reads as much, if not more, than I do. He’s also been a good friend who has never breathed a word to anyone else. Maren’s brother was that kind of friend too.

“Jesus Christ, man ... Dwight Keane is Jamie’s father.” He shakes his head and whistles. “That’s some fucked-up shit.”

I return an easy nod without looking at him.

“Maren said you were going to propose to her. Fitz, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. But you need to talk to someone. You have never wanted a wife or a family. Hell, you even made sure you can’t get a woman pregnant. Yet you were going to fucking propose with your mother’s ring. You don’t just sleep that shit off.”

I stop the machine and glance up at him. “You think I need what? Therapy?”

“I think you need to talk about it with someone.”

The legs of my chair screech along the floor as I scoot it back a few inches and cross my arms. “Let’s talk.”

Gary’s eyebrows lift a fraction before he clears his throat. “Okay. How are you holding up?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Yes.”

“Suicidal thoughts?”

“No.”

“Depression?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Because if I were in your shoes, I’d hate the world.”

“I hate her father. He’s not my world. So I don’t hate the world.”

“She was your world.”

My lips part to give a response, but I don’t have one.

Gary gets a slight smile as if he’s proud of making a point.

“I don’t hate her.”

He nods several times. “That’s good. She’s the sweetest, kindest young woman I’ve met since I met my wife. She doesn’t deserve hate from anyone. She was three years old when tragedy struck her family. Like you, she was a victim of something horrible. Just a child.”

“I’m aware.”

Gary has a stare-off with me. He twists his lips for a few seconds. I don’t know where he thinks he’s going with this informal therapy session, but it’s not far. “Maren and Evette understand why you can’t be with her.”

I return a slow nod.

“But I don’t.”

“Then you’re fucking blind.”

“I think you’re the one who’s blind. If you look at that woman and see your past, then you’re not only blind, you never saw her in the first place. And that means you don’t deserve her. She’s infinitely too good for your sorry ass.”

“What did you say to me?” I stand, sending my chair crashing into the table behind me.

Gary stands, but he doesn’t stand as tall as me. And I’ve been itching to ram my fist into something. It might just be his face today.

He smirks, taking a few steps backward as I inch closer. “You’re right. You don’t hate her. You hate that you love her more than you’ve ever loved anyone. You hate that some other guy’s going to take what’s yours. The girl. Her love. Your life. ”

I ball my hands into tight fists. “She dropped this all on me on Thanksgiving and walked out the door while my grandmother napped upstairs. The same grandmother who tried to take her own life a few weeks before I turned eighteen because she couldn’t deal with the grief of losing my parents, my sister, and her husband. She didn’t condemn a thing he did and had this horrified look when I spoke about him. She probably left me to be with him. And I’m the asshole in this scenario?”

“What did you say to her?”

I shake my head. “What are you talking about? Nothing.”

“She confessed that Dwight was her father, and then she followed it up with ‘I choose him’? I don’t buy it. What was your response?”

“I told her I wished he was dead.”

“I one hundred percent understand why you would feel that. I would feel the same way. But that’s her father.”

“He’s a fucking murderer!” I grab Gary’s shirt and shove him against the wall.

“Whoa! What the hell?” Two other guys run into the room and pull me off Gary.

“His wife died,” Gary says without raising his voice. He says it so matter of factly that it makes me nauseous.

“You don’t kill innocent people because a bear attacks your wife.” I struggle in the grip of the two guys holding me, but they don’t release me.

“Love makes us crazy.” He nods toward me. “Look at you. And she’s still alive.”

“This isn’t about her. It’s about my family.” Again, I try to yank myself free.

Gary straightens his shirt. “Of course it’s about her. Your family’s dead. Nothing will ever be about them again. And I know that makes me an asshole for pointing out the obvious. But you need to stop being the victim. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can have your own goddamn life.”