Page 55 of Wildfire
“If you… Do you, um…” Great start, Rory. “If you change yourmind and do want to talk about anything to do with where you’ve been, that would be okay with me. We could try and find that middle ground.”
“I don’t want to burden you with my baggage.”
“I don’t mind. It isn’t a burden. You just carried my actual baggage and me up a hill. I can take whatever you throw at me, Callaghan.”
“It is. You have enough of your own, you don’t need other people’s.”
I hate me and my big mouth. I said that weeks ago when we first started working here, when someone asked me why I don’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t know how to say, “Little to no trust in men, especially when I’m a train wreck,” in a nice way to the people I’d just met, including Russ. So I said the first thing that came to mind, which unfortunately happened to be about not wanting other people’s baggage.
“I want your baggage.”
“Aurora,” he says more firmly this time. “I promise you, you don’t.”
He isn’t listening to me and I’m growing frustrated, but I know I’m just dealing with the result of my own words. I can feel myself becoming flustered as I struggle to verbalize my thoughts. “I do. I want it all. Pretend I’m the airport. Give me everything.”
I should be gagged, truly.
Russ’s eyebrows pinch together, showing he’s as confused as I am. “What are you talking about?”
“Airports? Baggage? I have no idea. I have no idea what I’m doing or saying most of the time, but I meant what I said earlier, Russ. I can take it.”
I’m in such unfamiliar territory and I hate it. He reaches out and tucks my wet hair behind my ear, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary, and my entire body hums happily. “We should probably get out before we start to prune.”
I scream internally.
He doesn’t say anything as he helps me climb out of the water and we walk back toward the blanket. I throw myself onto the soft fabric, feeling a little defeated, and lie back to dry off.
I block out the sun with my hand, watching Russ awkwardly shuffle around, trying to get comfortable. “Put your head on my stomach.”
“I’ll be okay, I just need to fi—”
“You’ll be comfortable, I promise.”
Reluctantly, he maneuvers himself, leaning back and gently settling on my stomach. “If it becomes uncomf—”
“Emilia uses me as a pillow all the time. You’re gentler than she is. I’m good, I swear.”
I’m not sure when I finally become comfortable with the silence between us. But without the noise of my babbling, I get to listen to the sound of his breathing. Fifteen minutes of quiet passes before he starts talking.
“My dad was hit by a drunk driver.” I freeze as the relief and panic that he’s finally sharing both hit me at once. “I don’t see or speak to my family very often because…” He pauses and I wait, stroking the top of his head gently so he knows I’m listening. “Well, because my dad doesn’t make me feel very good about myself. He was my hero when I was really young. Never missed a hockey game, school fair, parent-teacher conference. By the time I graduated high school we barely talked.”
“What changed?” I ask softly.
“He did. It wasn’t an overnight change. It was little things, gradually getting more and more frequent over time, making him harder and harder to talk to. He got meaner and meaner, and now I can’t stand to talk to him.”
“That really sucks. And I’m sorry about the crash, too. That’s a lot to process on its own. Was your dad okay when you got there?”
“He’ll make a full recovery. I’ve had to visit him in the hospital a few times and it’s always been his fault. This one wasn’t technically his fault, but I still feel like he’s to blame, y’know?” My hand is still moving through his hair and I’m scared if I stop, he’ll stop. “Like if he wasn’t doing what he was doing, he wouldn’t have been where he was and then the car wouldn’t have hit him.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“I didn’t want to go, but my brother told me he’d come here and drag me back to Maple Hills if I didn’t go voluntarily. I didn’t want to bring my home drama here; I came here to escape it. Turns out Ethan lied and isn’t even on this side of the country. Smart, really. He knows I’d have ignored his threat if I thought he was far away.”
“You guys aren’t close?”
“Ethan is mad at the world and I don’t understand why. My anger is because I feel like I can’t escape. He escaped years ago, so what does he have to complain about? Makes it hard to bond when it seems like he’s constantly yelling at me about something. He reminds me of Dad sometimes. I should tell him that the next time he’s shouting at me. We just handle things differently, I suppose. He thinks I’m selfish for stuff and I think he’s selfish for stuff and, well, it isn’t a great foundation for a good relationship.”
“I’m not close with my sister. We handle things in pretty similar ways, actually, not exactly a compliment to either of us, but we live very different lives. So I sort of get it.”
