From Air (Wildfire)

Chapter Forty-Seven

JAYMES

Six months later . . .

Love is a jagged knife. If it’s not lethal, it leaves, at the very least, a deep scar, an unshakable feeling, a recurring memory ... a cheap tattoo.

“Are you nervous?” Melissa asks.

I adjust my AirPods to hear her better. “It’s fire season. I’m not going to run into him.” The rideshare pulls into the parking lot in downtown Missoula. “Thank you,” I say while climbing out and fixing my dress.

“You’re braver than I am.”

“I never thought I’d see Betty O’Neil get married. I’m not missing this for anything.”

Melissa laughs. “You’re a good friend, Jaymes Andrews.”

I grin. “Thank you.” I stop before the entrance to the church. “I’m here. I’ll call you later.”

“Have fun.”

I slip my earbuds into my clutch and silence my phone. It’s a beautiful church, with lovely frescos and stained glass windows. There’s an organ on the balcony and a much larger gathering than I anticipated.

Her groom is much older, a kind and patient soul to welcome Betty and her three dozen kids into his life. When he wipes away tears as she walks down the aisle, I leak some of my emotion. It’s a beautiful ceremony.

As I exit the church, a calloused hand slides around my arm, and I turn. “Oh my god.” I hug Will.

“I wondered if you’d be here.” He releases me and grins.

“There was no way I was going to miss this wedding.” I nod toward him. “You look so dapper in a suit.”

He tugs at his tie. “It’s too damn hot for this.”

“I know, right?” I use the program to fan myself.

He eyes my airy, light-blue strapless dress and scoffs at my comparison. “Not even close.”

“Are you going to the reception?” I ask.

“Her parents own a vineyard. I’m not a wine guy, but an open bar is an open bar.”

I giggle, and we turn as the happy couple emerges from the church. When they’re tucked into the old Rolls-Royce, I smile at Will. “I’ll see you there, then.”

“Where are you parked?” he asks.

“I’m not.” I hold up my phone with my rideshare app.

“No. You’re not riding with a stranger when I’m headed to the same place.”

With a sheepish smile, I shrug. “Are you sure?”

“I’m offended you even have to ask.” He offers his arm, and I take it. “Where are you staying?”

“A hotel.”

“Dammit, woman. No. That’s not okay.” He opens the passenger door and helps me up into his Bronco.

“It’s a nice hotel.”

“No.” He shakes his head, shuts my door, and removes his tie on his way to the driver’s side door. “Fitz is on a fire. I don’t know when we’ll see him. Maren’s gone too. We can have that torrid affair we always planned on having.”

I snort. “So it wasn’t just me?”

He smirks, backing out of the parking spot. “I’ve missed you. And I’m a shitty friend for not staying in touch after what went down. But Fitz is—”

“He’s your friend too. Please don’t feel the need to explain. I think I would have been disappointed had you and Maren not stood by your guy. Fitz needed you, but he never would have admitted it.”

Will gives me a quick sidelong glance with a melancholy smile and a tiny nod. “It hasn’t been easy. He distanced himself from everyone. I think I saw him on less than five different occasions all winter. He spent most of his time down south. And he hasn’t let me rent out the shed, so the dumb motherfucker’s paying double rent.”

My heart jolts, but I try to hide my physical reaction. Instead, I clear my throat, and with a weak attempt, I try to laugh it off. “That makes no sense.”

“Maren thinks what happened with you is Fitz’s new trauma, his new excuse to be an asshole and reject all opportunities to have a normal life. He’s stopped going to Gary and Evette’s parties. No dating. Just nonstop work. Well, he still visits his grandma over the holidays.”

I manage a slow nod. Everything inside my chest aches. I did this.

“Where are you working now?”

My gaze remains affixed to the view out the window.

“Jamie?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

Will chuckles. “Where’d you go? I asked where you’re working now?”

“Oh, I’m between jobs. After San Bernardino, I took a position in Denver for a maternity leave, then I had a short stint in Bismarck. But for the past month, I’ve been hiking. Spending some much-needed time in nature.”

“Really? Where?”

With a nervous laugh, I slowly shake my head. “I’m afraid to say.”

“Why?” He stops at the light and glances at me.

“I’m hiking the area where my mother—my biological mother—died. Where Fitz’s family died,” I whisper.

Will’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

My nose wrinkles. “I know. It sounds weird. My father’s been diagnosed with colon cancer. Most days, I don’t think he understands or acknowledges his diagnosis, even with his parents visiting when they can and trying to explain things to him. He’s just not comprehending it. And maybe that’s a blessing for him. Anyway, he asked me to find my mother and tell her how sorry he is.”

Ever so slowly, Will returns his gaze to the road and follows the car in front of us when the light turns green. “So you’re what? Searching for a body?”

“No. He’s not consistently of sound mind. Sometimes he thinks she’s alive, and sometimes he knows she’s dead.” I smile, fiddling with my sand dollar pendant. “But I take pictures of the sunrises and sunsets. I take pictures of the new trees and wildlife and share them with him. I show him life after death. And for me, it’s been a form of closure. I need it. I’ve released so many emotions. And I know when I take my last hike to release his ashes”—I turn away and blink back the tears—“it will be the beginning of something new that I won’t share with my past.” I quickly blot the corners of my eyes and release a tiny but joyous laugh. “I’ll fly .”

Will rests his hand on mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.

Then, for the next three hours, we drink wine, dance, laugh, and celebrate love.

“Are you good to drive?” I ask him as he helps me to the Bronco.

“I cut myself off an hour into the night. You’re safe with me.”

I slip off my heels before climbing into the passenger seat. “You’re such a good man, William Landry. You should find yourself a good woman. Maybe a psychiatrist.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nice try, matchmaker, but I’m good.” Before I can continue making my case for Dr. Reichart, he closes my door, and I fall asleep before we get out of the parking lot.

“Hey, do you need me to carry you?” Will gently shakes my arm.

I peel open my eyes and wait for everything to stop spinning. “This isn’t my hotel?”

He unfastens my seat belt. “I’ll take you to your hotel in the morning. Friends don’t leave friends drunk and alone.”

“Drunk is a strong word,” I mumble, sliding out of the seat.

“Whoa!” Will catches me when my feet fail to do their job.

“I’m good.” I right myself. “I can walk.”

“If you say so.” Will heads toward the door, carrying my purse and heels.

I stop at the bottom of the porch steps, feeling numb but not numb enough to forget everything.

“You okay?” Will asks after opening the door.

“He carried my shoes.” I slowly blink and gaze at my shoes in Will’s hand.

“Who carried your shoes?”

“Fitz,” I whisper, rubbing the heel of my hand over my chest. There it goes again, that jagged knife called love. “After the anniversary party,” I murmur. “We made love on a boat. And he held my hand at sunrise, walking me down the boardwalk with my heels in his other hand.” It hurts to smile, but I can’t help it. “I never told him I used to dream of that.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “It was a silly dream. I don’t know why my mind created it. I just knew that it wasn’t the shoes. It was him.” I ease my gaze to Will’s face, barely visible in the dark. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I take one step, then another. “Thank you for showing me that it was just a dream. Anyone can carry my shoes.” I step into the house.

Will turns on a light. “You can sleep in the shed or Maren’s bed to be closer to the bathroom.”

I continue up the stairs and take a left into Fitz’s bedroom, gently closing the door behind me. Unzipping my dress, I then step out of it and crawl into bed, hugging his pillow and drifting off to sleep.

The following day, I slide into my dress, use the bathroom, and find Will in the kitchen with a cup of coffee waiting for me.

“Good morning.” He leans against the counter and grins behind his mug.

“Morning.” I inhale the dreamy steam before taking a sip.

“I didn’t hear you get up in the night. Did you get sick?”

“No. I wasn’t that intoxicated.” I glance around. “But I need to get back to my hotel. A shower and clean clothes are calling my name. Where’d I set my purse and shoes?”

He nods to the sofa. “I’m not sure where you put your shoes.”

“You had them, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head. “I thought I handed them to you when you walked up the stairs.”

I set my coffee on the counter and retrace my steps, even getting on my hands and knees to look under Fitz’s bed. “Where could they be?” I scratch my head as Will watches me from the doorway.

“That’s weird. I’ll check again in my Bronco. But for now, I’ll grab you a pair of Maren’s flip-flops and let you know when I find them. I can always ship them to you.”

I continue to shake my head. “They didn’t just vanish.”

Will meets me at the top of the stairs and hands me Maren’s shoes. “It was probably a mouse.”

“Shut up.” I laugh, descending the stairs.

He transfers my coffee into a canteen. “Coffee to go.”

“You’re the best.”

“Tell me about it.” He grins, grabbing his keys. “It’s like you slept with the wrong housemate.”

I open the door and giggle. “I think that’s been well established.”