Fire

by McAdams, Molly

“All right,” Mr. Riley said as they both sank down to the couch. “What is it you want to talk about, Beau?”

  My head bobbed nervously for a moment, my throat getting all kinds of dry before I said, “I would like y’alls permission to date Savannah. Please.”

  Silence fell over the room, heavy and tense and so damn loud. At the same time, I was sure they could hear how fiercely my heart was beating.

  After what felt like an eternity, a huff of a laugh left Mr. Riley. “Uh . . . I’d say it’s a little late to be asking permission seeing as you’ve been dating her for, God, I don’t know. How many years now?”

  “It’s never too late to ask your permission.”

  He glanced at his wife, studying her for a few seconds before he looked my way again. His head slowly shaking as his shoulders lifted. “You already know what our answer is.”

  I did.

  I hadn’t expected anything less from them.

  Still, knowing your girlfriend’s parents didn’t want her with you hit hard. It was damaging because I knew they had valid reasons, just as I knew no one would ever love Savannah the way I did.

  I dipped my head and started to respond, but he continued. “You know how we feel about your family. We’ve never had friends like your parents—people we’ve come to care for as if they’re our own family. And we love you kids—we love you. But not for Savannah. Beau . . . listen to me.”

  I was.

  I was taking in every word he said while also making sure I had myself under control in case he said something that pushed me over my crumbling edge.

  “We love you,” he said slowly, emphasizing the words. “That doesn’t change what you are capable of. Your parents are just as aware of it, that doesn’t diminish their love for you. However, we need to protect our daughter from that.”

  “What I’m capable of,” I murmured, my head shaking faintly as a huff of bemused frustration tumbled free. “I know what I’m capable of, but I’ve never touched Savannah. I’ve never so much as gotten angry with her. I would do anything to protect her, I’m not capable of hurting her. My parents are aware of that.” My tone was low as I twisted his words back around on him.

  From the slight tick of Mr. Riley’s eyebrow, he didn’t appreciate it.

  “Y’all are the ones who’ve never been able to see that,” I continued. “Instead, y’all always tell me to keep calm before I ever have the chance to get mad, or back away like I might do something. Your wife just cowered from me, but I’ve never given her a reason to. This is the most I’ve ever even talked to y’all.”

  At the thick, uncomfortable tension that settled between us and had me feeling like I was about to crawl out of my skin, I started for the door.

  “I love your daughter,” I said softly, my steps slowing to a stop. “I know she deserves someone better than me—I’ve tried to get her to realize that. But I’ll always try to be the guy she deserves.”

  God, I’d tried. From before I ever told her how I felt about her up until just a few nights ago, I’d given Savannah so many opportunities to have a life better than one I could offer her, all while being terrified she would take it. Because a life without Savannah was . . . well, I couldn’t imagine one.

  She was my entire world. Had been since the day she’d dropped out of the sky with her freckles and captivating laugh and her endearing view on everything.

  “I’m coming back,” I said firmly. “I’ll come back until I get your approval because as long as she wants me, I’m keeping that girl. And one day, I’m marrying your daughter.”

  Mr. Riley blew out a harsh breath from his nose as he twisted to face me better. “If you didn’t intend on respecting our wishes anyway, why ask? Why the show?”

  “It’s no show, sir. It’s a hard situation when, like you said, I’m already dating her, and I already knew full well what your response would be. But that’s how much Savannah means to me. I want your approval, and I plan on being here, asking you until you change your mind.”

  “We won’t.” The answer was simple, but he almost sounded saddened by it, as if he was the one receiving the answer.

  My head lowered in the beginnings of a nod and my weight shifted to continue toward the door again, but I stilled. “You know the old plantation house?”

  Their eyes darted from me to each other and back again, clearly taken aback by the change in direction.

  Mr. Riley cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. Yes, of course.”

  “Savannah’s dream is to get married there. Did y’all know that?”

  Her mom seemed to melt at that for a moment before she controlled her expression, the way she always did around me. Her dad’s face just creased as he studied me as if he was trying to figure out where this was headed.

  “No,” he finally answered. “We didn’t.”

  “For years, we’ve been talking about that place,” I said, voice soft as I gave them this.

  Not that it was a secret. My family knew because Savannah and I talked about it all the time. But I’d never outright told someone because it was ours.

  “About a future there. About owning it one day—turning it into a bed and breakfast. Getting married there.”

  Twin looks of amusement crept across their faces, and Mr. Riley scoffed, as if they thought our dreams were farfetched.

  “I will make it happen,” I said confidently and tried to ignore the way my blood simmered in reaction to their disbelief. The way my entire being tried to lash out in response. I took a couple deep breaths and forced my jaw to unclench as I continued. “Like I said, we’ve talked about this for years. Savannah’s told me for years about the wedding she wants there, in detail. But she wants to give up that dream wedding for a courthouse.”

  Their amusement faded in an instant.

  “Or Vegas.” I felt their anger and fear slam into me. Felt it fuel what was already inside me. “As soon as she turns eighteen—”

  “Out of the question,” Mr. Riley barked before I could finish.

  “Absolutely not,” his wife said, voice subdued.

  “I told her no.” I hated that I wasn’t able to unclench my fists. But I could feel their hostility. Could feel their blame as Mr. Riley rose to his feet, narrowed eyes on me. “I told her no,” I repeated. “I’m giving her that dream wedding one day. I’m not sneaking off to a courthouse or Vegas just so we can be together. So y’all can’t keep us apart.”

  At that, Mr. Riley jerked back, and his wife slowly lifted her hand to her chest.

  “But that’s where Savannah’s head is at. Your constant trying to force us apart makes her want to give up her dream and go to extremes. Thought y’all should know.”

  “Thought you should try telling us how to parent,” Mr. Riley shot back, frustration wrapping around every low word in a way that made everything go so still.

  I slowly counted backward and rolled my neck before meeting his hardened stare. “Didn’t say that.”

  “Better cool it, Beau.”

  “You know, that doesn’t actually help,” I ground out, teeth clenching tight and a fine layer of red coating my world at his response.

  His reaction.

  All it ever did was fuel what I tried so hard to suppress.

  Disapproval poured from him as he gave me a look that shouted I was proving why they wanted me away from their daughter. “Think it’s time you left.”

  I slanted my head in assent and started turning for the door again when Mrs. Riley spoke up.

  “You think you wouldn’t hurt Savannah,” she said, voice soft and hesitant, almost shaky. “You tell yourself that, and I’m sure you want to believe it. But we’ve experienced differently. We’ve seen it.” Her head moved absentmindedly as her stare remained fixed on the floor, looking in a way I’d never seen Savannah’s mom.

  Then again, she was usually either backing away from me or mad at Savannah because of me.

  When she didn’t go on, her husband released a slow sigh and gestured to her. “One of Christi’s
good friends in college went through an abusive relationship. Everything started out fine until it wasn’t. She swore up and down he was a great guy, that nothing was happening, but everyone knew. You could see it in him.”

  “And then we were almost too late,” Savannah’s mom said, voice wavering. “She wouldn’t come around anywhere we were, claiming it was because of the things we said about him, but we had a feeling. So, we went to her.” My eyes followed when she abruptly stood from the couch, her terrified stare snapping to me. “And I will not watch my daughter go through the same.”

  Mr. Riley watched her leave the room, looking conflicted when he turned back to me. “Christi and another friend found her. They thought she was dead at first. Body completely beaten and broken from repeated abuse.” He cleared his throat, head bobbing. “His family and friends couldn’t believe it. They kept saying he was the greatest guy. Had a little bit of an anger problem growing up and got in fights in school, but he would’ve never hurt her.” He gave me a knowing look.

  Of everything they had ever told me, tried to make me believe, it was the one thing that didn’t hit me right in the gut with the truth of it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said after a moment. “I’m sorry for what happened to her. But . . .” I lifted my arms before letting them fall. “For so many reasons including my anger, I know I’m not good enough for Savannah. And I know I have a problem, I’m aware of that. But I know down to my soul that I’m not that guy.”

  “That’s just it,” he said sadly. “You don’t.”

  “No, you want me to be him, and you won’t give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

  “I won’t give you a chance to prove me right.”

  A disbelieving huff scraped up my throat. “Okay,” I mumbled as I once again headed for the door. A few feet away from it, I turned back to find him following a good, safe, distance away from me. “Does Savannah know?” I jerked my chin toward the living room. “About her mom’s friend? About where y’alls fear of me comes from?”

  “It also comes from what you’ve done,” he said pointedly.

  “Does she?”

  He studied me for long, tension-filled seconds before answering, “There isn’t a need for her to know right now.”

  I nodded at his veiled warning even though I didn’t agree with it. “I’ll be back,” I said again as I took the last steps toward the door and reached for the handle, refusing to waver. “I won’t stop coming back until I get your approval.”

  It wasn’t until I was already off the porch that he stopped me. “We know Savannah helps with your anger. Chases it away, or whatever your parents said. You can’t cling to our daughter for that reason.”

  “I’m not—”

  “At some point, you need to stand on your own and face whatever you’ve got going on inside. Your anger isn’t our daughter’s problem to worry about and fix and get mixed up in. It’s time you learned that. Time you stopped relying on others—relying on her.”

  My body slowly locked up until it felt like I might shatter. “I don’t.”

  The words were nothing more than a rumbled warning, and from the way Mr. Riley raised his hand and listed his head as if he was about to reprimand me, he heard it.

  The actions didn’t help. My jaw clenched impossibly tighter in response. My knuckles ached in protest. Every muscle in my arms twitched as if preparing for something I couldn’t let happen.

  It felt like something inside me was screaming. Clawing at me. Trying to force its way out.

  Every part of me knew it would be so easy to let go. To give in. That standing there, holding myself so damn still, was physically draining. But I’d lived with this feeling for as long as I could remember. I’d fought against it daily—until I couldn’t. And after years of these demeaning conversations with the Rileys, I knew when to get out.

  The other night, I’d lingered too long.

  Right then, I was dangerously close to that line again.

  “Same as you have your reasons for clinging to Savannah,” he went on as I took that first, rigid step back, “she’s only clung so hard to you because we’ve told her to stay away from you all these years. And one of these days, that rebellion will end for her. You will end for her.”

  I managed to dip my head as I forced myself to back away. “You’re wrong.”

  I stepped back that evening, hands raised as my stare darted over the kitchen. Making sure everything was ready and it all looked exactly the way I wanted it. Decaf coffee was ready to start brewing, the kettle had water ready to heat for tea, and the lemon pound cake honestly looked perfect.

  “Plates, forks, napkins . . .” I murmured, face creasing as I looked at the island where the dessert rested. “What am I forgetting?”

  I didn’t normally have dessert and drinks ready for guests who stayed at Blossom. I made breakfast and I set out a treat sometime mid-afternoon if they were around and not out exploring Amber or spending time with whoever they were visiting. But this weekend was different. Everyone in the house was there for Philip Rowe’s wedding, which meant I’d grown up with those people. A second family of sorts.

  I turned at the sound of ceramic clinking together, my heart stopping painfully before racing toward the man who was pulling down mugs.

  “I forgot those,” I mumbled lamely.

  He set out enough for the guests, leaving them on the edge of the island because he knew I would rearrange them anyway, then turned to look at me. Expression tense and arms folded tightly over his chest.

  Once the mugs were set up how I wanted them, he said, “Levi said Quinn’s name.”

  “I know.”

  Frustration and pain flashed through his eyes before they shifted away, his head shaking subtly. “Were you gonna tell me?”

  “It happened right before you came over today.”

  His chest pitched but his stare remained on the floor when he said, “In the five hours I’ve been here, you couldn’t find a second to tell me?”

  “You’re just telling me,” I shot back, tone all kinds of defensive and sharp. “What if I hadn’t known?”

  At that, his hardened stare drifted back to me, but there was a deep sadness lingering in his eyes and weaving through his words. “It just happened when I was putting him down.”

  “Oh, well . . .” I swallowed, trying to push back the lump forming in my throat, and jerked up one of my shoulders. Feigning indifference so I wouldn’t turn into an emotional mess again. “That happened today. Thank you for the phone. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Savannah—”

  “No, I need you to go,” I said, trying desperately to channel the harsh tone that came so naturally to Beau. “I have a full house, and the guests—”

  “We have a full house,” he said firmly.

  “No, right now, I do,” I argued and tried not to react to the way my words had a physical effect on him.

  Arms falling to his sides and his body seeming to sag even though he was still standing so tall. The absolute fear and panic that played out on his face before every emotion slipped away.

  “My guests will be back any minute,” I said, struggling to maintain the same callousness. “I don’t have time for you or this.”

  “You don’t have time for your husband,” he said gravely. “You don’t have time to fix our marriage.”

  “Not right now, no.”

  A huff left him, all pain and defeat. “Savannah, we are more important than the guests, than this house—”

  “No. No,” I bit out, head shaking furiously. “If we were more important, you wouldn’t have fucked my best friend. You wouldn’t have helped her leave. You wouldn’t have watched me grieve her and pretended to know nothing about it. You wouldn’t have built our entire life together on a lie.”

  By the time I finished, I was screaming at him.

  By the time I finished, he looked like he was dying under the grief he was carrying. Gripping at his chest that was roughly pitching and falling. Face creased like
he was in agony.

  It was a terrible feeling, looking at him and wanting to continue screaming. Wanting to throw something and rage at him for everything he’d done—every hurt and humiliation he’d caused. Yet, at the same time, my chest felt like it was on fire and encased in ice because the man I loved was in pain, and it made me ache for him. Made me want to comfort him.

  But we were in this pain because of what he’d done, and I needed to remember that. Needed to remember that if I gave in, if I fell into his arms so we could try to forget for a little while, my own hurts and betrayals would still be there in the morning.

  “That isn’t—”

  “I don’t care,” I said over him, stopping him. “I don’t care. Right now, I want you to go. I need you to go,” I repeated, knowing deep down, Beau would always give me what I needed.

  “We have to talk,” he said, voice pleading.

  “We really don’t.”

  Irritation bled from him. “What, but you’ll talk to my brothers? You’ll talk to Peter Rowe? Someone you haven’t seen in—God, I don’t fucking know.”

  “Peter’s like family. Of course I’m gonna talk to him.”

  “About us?” he ground out meaningfully. “I’m your husband. You need to be talking to me so we can start working through this. So we can fix this.”

  “I’m not ready, you need to be okay with that.”

  “Savannah, I’m losing my fucking wife. How am I supposed to be okay with that?”

  “No, this is losing your wife,” I said as I closed the distance between us, pulling my rings off my finger and putting them and my shattered heart in one of his hands.

  Beau went still in a terrifying sort of way.

  The air seemed to be sucked from the room as his fingers slowly curled around my engagement ring and wedding band before his agony and denial burst from him. Filling the room and amplifying my own anguish. After an eternity in our suffering, his stare lifted to meet mine, eyes glassy with tears just as a couple fell, slipping down his horrified face.

  “Who let me come back to Amber?” Peter called out on a groan, making me jerk back.

  I hadn’t even heard the front door open.