From Air (Wildfire)

Chapter Forty-Six

Maren skips into the kitchen wearing her Santa hat. “We’re caroling tonight. Get ready.”

Will and I don’t take our attention away from Sunday-night football.

“Do you want peppermint marshmallows or regular marshmallows in your canteens of cocoa?”

We don’t respond until she steals the remote and shuts off the game.

“What the hell, Mare?” Will dives toward her to retrieve the remote.

“No. I promised Evette we’d all go caroling with them tonight. So get your asses off the sofa, and be ready in five.” She slides the remote down her shirt and into her bra.

“I love that you think that’s going to stop me. I’ve seen plenty of tits. Your tiny ones won’t even faze me.” Will smirks.

Maren flips him the bird before strolling into the kitchen.

I haven’t spoken with Gary since our incident at work. We’ve managed to stay out of each other’s way. It’s best if I stay home.

“I’m not feeling well. Headache.” I rub my temples.

Maren opens the drawer by the fridge and pulls out a bottle of pain-relief pills. “Take two, and get your ass ready.” She tosses me the bottle.

I shoot her a scowl and slap the bottle onto the counter.

She winks. “Good boy.”

Fifteen minutes later, Maren’s driving our grumpy asses to Gary and Evette’s. There are at least a dozen people gathered in their front yard.

“Merry Christmas, my lovelies,” Evette chimes, in her long white coat and red Santa hat, handing us LED candles.

Someone bumps my shoulder, so I glance left.

Gary holds out his gloved hand. “Truce? I handled everything like a dick. You’re my guy, and I just want you to be happy. And I so badly wanted that happiness to be her. I’m sorry.”

I stare at his proffered hand.

Maren kicks the back of my knee. “What would Jesus do three days before Christmas ?” she mumbles. Of course she knows about our fight. Nothing’s a secret around here.

I shake his hand. “Truce.”

“Grab cookies if you need them or hot drinks if you don’t already have one. Let’s go,” Evette announces.

I feign Christmas cheer and mutter a few lyrics as we stroll through the neighborhood. Three songs into this delightful gig, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s my grandma. I fly to California tomorrow. She probably has her days mixed up and is wondering why I’m not there yet. “Hello?”

“Calvin?” She sounds weak.

I stiffen, and panic sets in before I can utter a word. “Grandma, what is it? Are you okay?”

“They ... they took Terry to the hospital. He wasn’t ... I-I shook him. He didn’t respond. They were shocking h-his heart. He wasn’t—”

“Okay. Just sit down, and try to breathe. Are you alone?” I hand Will my canteen. He narrows his eyes.

I cross the street so I can hear better. Maybe I’m the dick tonight, but I’m relieved it’s Terry and not her. I don’t know Terry that well, so my emotional investment in him is close to nil. However, I don’t like that she’s panicked and I’m so far away.

“They wouldn’t let me go in the ambulance.” Her voice quakes.

“There’s nothing you can do. Do you have a neighbor who can be with you? My flight is in the morning.”

“I-I don’t know. I can’t breathe. What if he’s not okay?”

I grip my phone tighter and yank my beanie from my head. She needs to calm down. She’s survived so much worse; she just doesn’t remember. “Just hold tight, and stay by your phone. I’m going to see if Jamie can wait for news with you. And I’ll call you right back. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Everything all right?” Will asks, having abandoned the other carolers too.

“No. My grandma’s guy friend was hauled off in an ambulance. He’s probably dead. And she’s alone and in a panic. She’s going to have another fucking stroke if she doesn’t calm down.” I hold my phone to my ear, waiting for Jamie to answer.

“Fitz?” She sounds surprised.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t bother you if I had another choice, but my grandma just called. They took Terry to the hospital. He was unresponsive. She’s panicking. I’m flying out in the morning, but—”

“I’ll take care of her,” Jamie interrupts. Her words aren’t panicked like my grandma’s or tight with frustration like mine. She’s calm and grounded.

“Thanks,” I sigh.

She ends the call with a clipped “yep,” and it takes me a minute to shake off the sound of her voice and its effect on me.

After a delayed flight and a long line at the rental counter, I finally reach my grandma’s place and park next to Jamie’s Jeep.

I’m not ready to see her. I don’t know if I’ll ever be prepared to see her again. The emotions are too raw. And a month apart has only intensified them. I can’t think of her without hearing Gary’s speech replaying in my head.

I open the front door.

“Shh ...” Jamie holds a finger to her lips while easing the bedroom door shut behind her. “She finally fell asleep an hour ago.” She frowns, eyes red like she’s been crying. “Terry didn’t make it. It’s hit her hard. I caved and gave her something to help her sleep.”

I nod slowly. This fucking hurts. But I don’t know the exact source of the pain. I just know that standing feet from her is almost unbearable. “Um ...” I clear my throat. “Thank you. I didn’t know who else to call.”

She brushes past me. I curl my fingers into fists, resisting the urge to touch her.

“I’m glad I could be here for her.” She pulls on her gray ankle boots. “I felt bad that it took me so long to get here. I’ve been spending the holidays with”—she lifts her gaze to mine while sliding on her jacket—“friends. And it’s about an hour away. But with holiday traffic, it took me just under two hours.”

Friends.

She stressed friends , and her downcast gaze reeks of guilt or regret.

Does she mean friend ? Singular? A guy?

I press my lips together, biting my tongue. It’s none of my business.

“You hate that some other guy’s going to take what’s yours. The girl. Her love. Your life.”

It seems early to move on. Maybe she’s just numbing the pain. Perhaps I need to do the same.

“I’m an asshole for calling you. I should have figured out something else to do days before Christmas. And you had plans that I screwed up. Not to mention the drive. And staying the night.” I pull a wad of folded cash from my pocket and hand her two fifties. “At least let me pay for your gas. And please give my apologies to your friend .”

She stares at the cash in my hand. “Fitz, I don’t want your money. I care about Edith. I’m glad you called me.” When she lifts her gaze to mine, pain twists her beautiful features, as if the money is an insult.

“She’s not your responsibility.” I inch the money closer to her.

She ignores it, bending down to grab her purse from the floor. “Yeah, well, put your money away, because I’m not your responsibility.” She opens the door. “Let her sleep for several hours before checking on her. She needs to rest.” She pulls the door shut.

I’m flat-out nauseous, and my chest aches like I’m having my own health crisis. I open the door and step outside. “Are you upset with me?”

Jamie stops, slowly turning. She grabs her purse strap and sighs. “No.”

I rest a hand on my hip and drop my head. “I’m trying to figure out how to move on without regretting everything that happened before Thanksgiving weekend.”

“Does it matter?” Her gaze drifts to the side; she stares off into the distance before she continues. “It’s over. If you need to regret ever meeting me, then do it. Nothing changes where we are now. I wasn’t your future. I wasn’t really yours. And you were most certainly never really mine.”

“That’s not true.” A pang of anger swells in my chest.

She shakes her head and turns, continuing to her Jeep. “I’ll be your scapegoat, but I won’t be your punching bag. My feelings might not matter to you, but they matter to me.”

“Feelings?” I follow her. “Are you serious? Do you have any idea how I felt when you dropped that shit on me and then just left? Huh? Did my feelings even cross your mind? Talk about treating someone like a punching bag.”

She stops at her door and whips around. “You wished a hundred miserable deaths upon my father before hoping he’d burn in hell! He didn’t hunt down your family and kill them. He listened to my mother scream as a bear attacked her and their unborn child while I was home—a three-year-old child. And I never asked you to forgive him. I never asked you to forgive me. I flew Edith to you. And I told you the truth. Then I quietly left. You didn’t stop me. And I get it. You needed space. And I didn’t know what else to say. So I left. But don’t stand here and act like you weren’t fucking relieved that I was no longer a choice you needed to make.”

“I MADE MY CHOICE!” My words explode as I take a step closer.

She falls back against the driver’s side door, eyes wide.

“I chose you .” The words grind out of my chest. I’m breathless and so damn miserable. “I had my mother’s ring and the two most important people with me for Thanksgiving. I told Maren and Will that I chose you . This huge weight was lifted off my shoulders because I knew that you would say yes. And you would consume my whole fucking body and soul, and nothing and no one would ever matter as much as you.”

I won’t blink and let her see me cry, but watching her fall apart under the weight of my words is killing me.

The tears streaking down her cheeks.

The redness in her eyes.

The quivering of her lips.

The soft sobs vibrating her whole body.

My voice loses its drive; the anger simmers into pain. “Then you took it all away— he took it all away. Just like that, I hated Dwight Keane all over again.”

I don’t touch her but can’t tear my gaze away.

She furiously wipes her face and sniffles. “If you hate my father, then I can’t imagine how you’ll ever love me.” When she turns, I take a step back.

I watch her get into her Jeep. Then I let her drive away.