Firecracker: A contemporary romance

by Kelly Jamieson

  She couldn’t stay here forever, but she needed a plan. She hadn’t had enough time to save any substantial amount of money. She had no home. No job. She was right back where she’d started months ago when she was leaving Phoenix. In fact, she was even worse off. This time, she actually had awesome people in her life she cared about, and she was losing them too. She’d taken the generous opportunity Jamie had given her to live in his building, the job Liam had given her, and the friendship they’d all offered her, and she’d completely fucked it all up.

  “Arden.” Mom took the lounge chair next to her. “Jamie just called.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’s worried about you. You’re not answering his texts.”

  “Did you tell him I’m fine?”

  “No, dear.” Mom’s tone was dry. “Because you’re not. Please. You have to talk to me. We’re all worried about you.”

  A tear trickled from one eye and slid down her face and into her ear. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Jamie says you and Tyler have been seeing each other.”

  “Seeing each other.” She gave a short laugh. “Yes. It was hard to avoid seeing each other, living across the hall from each other. And when he was renovating the apartment I was living in.”

  “You know what I mean. And what do you mean the apartment you were living in? Are you not planning on going back?”

  Shit. “I can’t.”

  “What happened, sweetie? Something with Tyler?” Mom’s voice sharpened. “I know you were devastated by what Michael did…Tyler hasn’t…hurt you, has he?”

  “No.” The word came out on a sob.

  “Good. Because if any other man hurts you again, I’ll have to kick his ass.”

  She sniffled out a laugh. “Thanks, Mom. But he didn’t. It was me. I’m the one who was an asshole.”

  After a beat, Mom said quietly, “How so?”

  “After what happened with Michael, I didn’t want to get involved with someone again.”

  “I guess I can understand that you’d need time for that. And that you might be afraid of getting hurt again.”

  “It’s not that I’m afraid of getting hurt again. I mean, maybe I am, a little, but…I trust Tyler.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “He shouldn’t trust me. I don’t trust myself.”

  Mom’s eyebrows knitted and she waited patiently for Arden to go on.

  “I never realized how unhappy Michael was.” She twisted her fingers together and stared at them. “He must have been so miserable. So desperate. We were married, and I never even noticed how unhappy he was.”

  Mom closed her eyes briefly, her lips thinning.

  Arden pulled in a slow breath. “I should have known. I should have known how bad things were. I should have made him talk to me and tell me what was going on. I could have helped him, and I could have stopped him…from…” Her throat closed up.

  “You don’t know that, Arden.” Mom’s low, steady voice eased her tension. A little. “You can never really know what’s going on in someone’s head. You can’t take responsibility for what happened.”

  “But I do! I let him down! I should have been there for him, and I wasn’t. And now I hurt Tyler too. I was just letting things go on, not even realizing he was falling in love with me. I am a spoiled, selfish princess, just like he said.”

  Mom’s eyebrows flew up. “He said that?”

  “No. I said that. I mean, he did call me princess, but in a nice way. I’m the one who felt spoiled and selfish. When Michael died, I lost everything. And I realized I just coasted through life, letting other people look after me. I didn’t even have a job. I felt like I was…nobody.”

  “Oh, sweetie.”

  “I wanted to take charge of my life. I wanted to prove I could do it. Be a grown-up. And…and I failed.” Her voice cracked.

  “I didn’t realize how much you were blaming yourself,” Mom said quietly.

  Arden squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

  “Obviously, Michael was very unhappy with his life.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  Mom reached for her hands and squeezed them. “That’s because he didn’t want you to. Dad and I were there, two months before he died. We didn’t see it either. But loving someone doesn’t mean you can keep them from ever being unhappy. If that’s what you think, you’ll never have a healthy, happy relationship.”

  “Love is wanting the person you love to always be happy.”

  Mom cast her a shrewd look. “Yes, of course you want that. Since the day you were born, that’s all I wanted for you. But realistically as a mother, I knew that wasn’t possible. What kind of relationship would we have had—what kind of life would you have had—if all I’d ever done was try to keep you happy?”

  Arden thought about that. Maybe her life had been easy compared to some, but she’d had her share of hardships. Mom was right…there was no way she could prevent those from happening to her. And she shouldn’t.

  “Love is encouraging the one you love to live their best life. But you don’t have control if he chooses to live his life in a way that’s unhealthy and destructive.”

  Arden’s heart contracted so painfully she couldn’t breathe. Mom’s words played over in her head.

  Love is encouraging the one you love to live their best life.

  “You’ve been so strong through all of this. I know how hard it’s been.”

  Arden couldn’t talk. She pressed her trembling lips together.

  “But the whole time you held your head up and did what you had to do. I guess I didn’t tell you how much I admired you.”

  Arden’s mouth fell open. “Admired me?”

  “Yes.” Mom stroked her hair. “Dad and I talked a lot about how strong you were. But running away isn’t the way to be a grown-up.”

  Ouch.

  “I don’t know what you’re running from…other than maybe yourself.”

  Arden flinched at that. Because Tyler had said something similar—that she wasn’t being honest with herself.

  “But I do know that you’re strong enough to handle pretty much anything, after what you’ve been through.”

  “I don’t know if I am.”

  “If you learn from your mistakes, you are.” Mom added, “I also know you can’t stay here forever.”

  Arden laughed. “Gee thanks, Mom.”

  Mom smiled. “But you can stay as long as you need.”

  Arden’s heart swelled as Mom pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you.”

  Tyler was cooking bacon for sandwiches for supper when the tones alerted them to a structure fire. With a resigned sigh—he was really looking forward to bacon—he turned off the stove and set the pan on a rear burner, then headed out to the apparatus bay to step into his bunker boots and pants. It was dinnertime and probably a false alarm. Residential fire alarms were almost always the result of someone overcooking food, so this could be as benign as burned toast.

  He threw on his jacket and then he, Cliff, Tremon, and Evan jumped on the rig. Cliff let dispatch know they were en route, and they listened for other information coming in. They heard from dispatch that it was a working structure fire, and they’d started the clock to time the fire. The radio crackled. “Single-story single-family dwelling. Multiple callers. Heavy smoke coming from, uh…heavy smoke and fire coming from the front door.”

  This meant another engine would be added to the call. It also told them it probably wasn’t burned toast. Adrenaline spiked through Tyler’s veins as they turned a corner and sped down the street, lights and siren going. Ahead, they could see the column of thick black smoke. Their mobile display terminal showed information about the structure and hydrants.

  When they arrived, police were already there and told them there was a possible occupant trapped inside. Shit.

  Cliff took control of the incident.

  “Go meet with the captain from twenty-two,” Cliff told Tyler and Evan. “Stretch a line between the h
omes in case there’s a rescue.”

  Tyler nodded and as the two captains talked, he pulled the preconnected hose line and stretched it to the front door of the house. Then he started donning his mask while the rest of the crew joined him.

  Masked up, he opened the bail to expel any air in the hose line and adjusted the nozzle to a straight stream. Tyler advanced the hose line to the door, Crenshaw behind him, backing him up. “Let’s go, hit it!”

  He, Cliff, and Crenshaw moved into the house. Inside, they discovered the fire had self-ventilated, having burned a hole in the roof, and they could see right through the rooms on the main floor to a back bedroom.

  Jesus Christ.

  Everything in the room was on fire—the wall, the clothes in the closet, the bed was a pile of flaming ash, and flames crawled around the door. It was quite a sight.

  Adrenaline flowed through Tyler’s veins, making his limbs tingle and his heart beat faster.

  He opened the line up. The fire roared and the water hissed. Clouds of smoke billowed. He made his way forward, putting out flames. In the bedroom, flames lit up the smoke.

  Behind him, Cliff said, “I’m gonna go past you. Work on the fire.”

  Tyler did that, Cliff moving into the smoke. Seconds later, Cliff shouted, “Evan! Give me a hand!”

  Tyler’s gaze landed on the body on the floor. Fuck.

  Tyler covered Cliff with the nozzle as he crouched. Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. The body, a man judging by the size of it, was black. Tyler swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. His face, his body…was it just covered in soot?

  Evan stood there, frozen, staring.

  “Help him!” Tyler yelled at Evan, dividing his attention between the hose, the fire, and Cliff struggling to get the body up. “For Chrissakes, help him, we have to get him out of here!”

  Evan still didn’t move.

  “Fuck!” Anger flashed through Tyler at Evan. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Then he realized—there was something wrong with him. He was paralyzed with fear. Thoughts blazed through Tyler’s mind as he weighed options. Acting largely on instinct, he shoved the hose at Evan. “Here! Take this. Cover us.”

  Thankfully Evan grabbed the nozzle. Hoping to hell he was with it enough to protect them, Tyler leaped over to help Cliff lift the body. “I’m here.”

  “Thanks. Right here…grab his feet,” Cliff said. “Let’s drag him.”

  “Okay.”

  They shifted the weight and Tyler shuffled backward through the smoke and water and debris, breathing through his mask.

  “Keep going, Tyler,” Cliff encouraged.

  Outside, the smoke lighter, the air cooler, they laid him on the grass. They both dropped to their knees next to him. Once again, Tyler’s stomach roiled but he started chest compressions.

  “This is Engine 25. We have one victim,” Cliff announced.

  Ronda and Cam rushed up, Ronda dropping to take over the compressions, Cam going to the victim’s head.

  “No,” Cliff said, sitting back on his heels. He looked up at Tyler with sad resignation, shaking his head.

  Tyler stood, almost ready to vomit, but he swallowed. “I need to get back in there. Crenshaw’s not doing so good.”

  He strode back into the house where Evan stood like a zombie, still holding the hose.

  “The attic!” Tremon yelled.

  Again, Crenshaw didn’t respond, standing knee-deep in coals. His feet were going to burn. Tyler took control. He grabbed the hose and hosed down Crenshaw’s feet, listening to the chatter through his earpiece about the victim and other crews arriving, their instructions. “Get out of here!” he yelled.

  Crenshaw turned eerily blank eyes on him.

  Christ. Crenshaw wasn’t exactly his favorite person, but Tyler felt sick seeing him like this.

  Tyler turned the hose on the fire in the attic, but the longer he stood there in red hot coals trying to get Crenshaw to go, the hotter his own feet were getting, and he had to take a second to hose them down and drench them.

  The other crew that had arrived pulled the ceiling for them while he and Tremon chased the fire around the attic. They were making progress, but Crenshaw was still there, now shaking. He was going to have to physically get him out of the house.

  He grabbed Crenshaw and shoved him forward, both of them stumbling. Finally he wrestled him outside.

  Tyler re-entered the structure. As turned the hose back on the attic, with no warning the floor moved under his feet. Shit!

  The last thing he heard was Tremon yelling, “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Arden slid a tray of chocolate chip cookies into the oven. Because it was National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day. And no matter how shitty things were, there was always something to celebrate.

  Sure.

  The last few days she’d made a couple of cakes, some lemon bars, banana bread, and now cookies. It was a comfort baking frenzy.

  It also gave her time to think.

  Love is encouraging the one you love to live their best life.

  Tyler did that for her. He encouraged her. He cared enough about her to let her walk home alone, even though he wanted to protect her. He encouraged her to try her new business. He encouraged her to make new friends and go to the book club meeting. He supported her in so many ways, small ones and the most important ones.

  Maybe he tended to butt in a lot, but he did it with good intentions. With a good heart. The best heart.

  She’d overreacted about him trying to help her. And Tyler had been right—that wasn’t the real reason she was afraid of getting involved with him.

  She was terrified of messing up again. Of letting someone down in the worst way.

  Was Mom right? She didn’t have control over how Michael had lived his life. She could only encourage him and support him. And honestly? Tyler didn’t have control over her life. He encouraged her and supported her…but he didn’t control her.

  She moved about the kitchen, washing the bowls she’d used to make the cookie dough, loading the dishwasher, wiping the counter, her mind working.

  Tyler wanted to be a firefighter against his mom’s wishes. Arden had encouraged him in that. If it was what he wanted, she wanted that for him, and she’d do anything to help him achieve his goals.

  Because she loved him.

  And he’d do anything to help her achieve her goals. Because he loved her.

  She pressed her fingers to her mouth and froze in the middle of the kitchen.

  Holy hell. She’d gone and done what she hadn’t wanted to happen. She’d fallen in love with him. And then she’d screwed things up so badly.

  He loved his job so much. He was so brave. She wanted him to be happy. To have everything in life he wanted.

  Because she loved him.

  And maybe…that was why he was such a pain. Because he loved her. And he wanted those same things for her.

  Mom was right about something else—she had run away. And that wasn’t acting like an adult. Mom’s words had stung, but she had to admit the truth in them. She’d screwed up again. But Mom had also said, if she learned from her mistakes, she was strong enough to do anything.

  Wasn’t that exactly what she’d wanted? A new life? A chance to start over? A chance to learn from her mistakes and be a better person?

  She plopped her butt onto a stool at the counter. Mom and Dad were sitting outside on the patio. She stared across the room blindly.

  When things had gotten tough, she’d been scared and she’d run away. Instead of dealing with them like an adult, which she hadn’t done with Michael either.

  That wasn’t learning from her mistakes. She hung her head, shame burning her insides.

  She was strong. She’d been through hell. She’d survived. She could do anything.

  She lifted her chin.

  But could she do what she had to do to make things better with Tyler?

  She pulled in a slow breath through her no
se, her hands flat on the cool granite.

  Yes. She had to try. She had to try to be the woman she’d wanted to become—brave, honest, strong.

  She jumped off the stool and skidded across the shiny floor to the sliding doors. She flung one aside and stepped out. “Mom!”

  Mom looked up from the magazine she was reading, startled.

  “I need to book a flight and pack.”

  Mom’s slow smile made Arden’s heart squeeze. She set down her magazine. “I’ll help.”

  She hadn’t told Jamie or anyone she was coming back to Chicago. She felt like an idiot now, quitting her job at Shenanigans, running out on the new life she’d built. She would fix things. She would do better.

  She took the train and then the bus home. Home.

  The air in her apartment felt a little stale, but the scent of her favorite honeysuckle candles lingered. She looked around, remembering the day she’d arrived. Since then, she had a new bathroom, a beautifully refinished fireplace, and perfect painted walls. Baseboards and door casings hadn’t been added, but the apartment was almost finished. Thanks to Tyler.

  She remembered cooking together in her kitchen, trying new recipes using the things they’d shopped for, feeding each other tastes, him complaining about how messy she was, her telling him culinary creativity couldn’t be stifled by orderliness, arguing over whether they’d used too much salt or not enough. Then the fun and laughter they’d shared with their friends and Jamie while eating what they’d cooked.

  It was everything she’d lost. Friendship, companionship…love.

  She unpacked her suitcase, then crossed the hall to Tyler’s place. She paused, listening, but heard nothing, so she turned the doorknob and entered. Inside, she padded down the hall and peered into Tyler’s bedroom. Bed neatly made as always before he went to work. A pair of jeans draped over the arm of a chair, a pair of socks on the floor next to the hamper. She shook her head, smiling faintly. She’d bugged him about why he couldn’t put his socks into the hamper instead of on the floor near it. She picked up the socks and dropped them in.