Now it’s me. It’s me and Briggs.
Maybe Pris is right. Maybe we ruin each other. Maybe it’s hopeless. Maybe we’re too fucked up together that we have to stay apart.
Her voicemail picks up again. “You can’t take her from me.”
The fear in my voice is evident. The sound of my heart breaking like a roaring flame.
“Briggs, please talk to me. Let me help you.” I switch gears and try to stamp out the anger that tangles with all the rest. “Call me back or I’m coming out there.”
I hang up and slump into the chair. The phone rings and I answer it before the first ring ends.
“Briggs?”
“No, Nelson,” the dispatcher for Wildland Fire sounds confused at the urgency in my voice. “You’ve been cleared to come back to work and just in time, man. Rage-er up by Cascade meadows. Someone started a brush fire and it’s heading south toward the Langland Range.”
Fuck. Briggs lives at the base of the Langland Range.
“I’m on my way,” I say and hang up. Jet raises a brow as I turn to him and I know he heard Nelson’s voice through my phone. “Can you go warn them?”
“Of course, man. Go.”
As I walk through the door, I think about the last few months. This is what I wanted.
Back on the crew, back in the bush, back doing what I do best.
Except now I’ve got something else. Something stronger. Something I’m better at.
It’s them I want to go to.
Chapter Thirty-One
BRIGGS
The ground feels like it’s slanted, and I can’t get my balance as I stomp to the treehouse. I listened to Xan’s message and the forceful way he spoke about Millie plays over and over.
You can’t take her away from me.
Of course, he’s right. And of course, I don’t want to do that.
But I can’t stay here either.
I messaged the person who sent Millie’s photo, warning them that I know who they are, and the police are involved.
I need to disappear, make it seem like I headed south to the US or east. I’ll go north, spend time in Yukon where there’s little cell service and vast landscapes to explore while I wait for this to settle, or until she’s caught.
“Millie,” I call up to the treehouse. “I know you’re mad at me, but we need to go. Just for a while. I promise we’ll come back.”
Millie pokes her head over the edge of the treehouse. “Tell me why we’re leaving, and I’ll come down.”
I sigh and rub forehead. What am I supposed to tell her? I can’t be honest. I don’t know how to edit this situation down. I glance at my phone.
We’re being followed, hunted, threatened. A woman I once ousted for dishonesty and unethical behavior has gone down a revenge path to destroy my sanity and hurt the people I love.
“Someone is very angry with me for something. That’s all I can tell you Millie. You’re a kid. I don’t want to scare you.”
“Should I be scared?” Her face tilts to the side and she lowers the ladder.
“I’m scared.” I say and it’s true. It’s true so wholly and deeply. I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of this town, the people in it, how much I want to stay, how much I want to take Xan up on his offer to be a family, scared it’s all a lie, that it will disappear, that it will be taken away from me.
Dad waits for us on the porch, his brows low and mouth pinched into a scowl.
“Dad, please don’t,” I say, gathering the last of our stuff.
“You know, Brigitte, I have one thing to say and then you’ll never hear a word about it again.”
Millie sulks on her way to the motorhome and I’m glad there wasn’t too much damage, only charred smoke and it needs a good scrub on the inside. My plan is to head to Alberta, sell it there, get lost in Calgary for a few days and head north with a new rig.
Dad waits for Millie to get in the truck and I’m crossing my arms defensively waiting for him to talk.
“I always hated that Ryker boy. I hated his father for what he did to your mother. She lost a part of herself to him. I always blamed them. Jason for your mother’s cold untrusting heart, and Xan for pushing you to leave. The Rykers were no good playboys destined to hurt you. But over the last couple months I’ve learned something. See it with such clarity now.”
My heart races, this is not where I thought this was going. “See what?”
“That it was you. It was your mother. How forcefully you keep people out of your lives. How strongly you hold your emotions to your chest. That boy loves you more than you’ll ever appreciate. The dedication he’s had to you, the things he’s done to try to be worthy of you. And you’re going to run away when things get hard. Refuse to let anyone help you. It’s not those Ryker boys who are stubborn and scared.”
My jaw hangs open and hits of defensiveness, fear, sadness jab me in swift painful punctures.
“I want to say that I’m sorry for whatever I did to contribute. Whatever I didn’t do that you shoulda had as a kid. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for your mother, that the only damn thing she could show affection for was a fucking tree. You deserved better. But Alexander has been fighting for you and you know it. So, tell me this...why are you really leaving?”
Tears tingle behind my eyelids and I take a slow breath through my nose. There’s too much in there to unpack. It’s to much to process.
“You don’t always have to do it all alone, Briggy.” He uses the name he called me as a kid.
I glance at the motorhome, seeing the top of Millie’s head, and her slumped defeated body.
“At least let him say goodbye,” Dad says sternly when I don’t respond. All the words are stuck in my throat, the pressure of it all threatening to burst through my chest. I know he’s right. I don’t want him to be right.
Mom’s notes all jumble through my mind. How passionate she was, how ready to love. I remember how safe I felt melting into my feelings for Xan as a youth.
I look at Millie again. My beautiful empathic squishy hearted little girl.
Those with the softest hearts build the strongest shells.
Am I forcing her to grow her shell?
“I will let him say goodbye,” I say.
#
The sky is growing darker and when we turn onto the highway it’s obvious why. Thick black smoke billows up into the air from east of town. My heart leaps into my throat and I press the gas harder.
I call Xan. There’s no answer so I try twice more. Shit.
Thoughts begin to tumble around in a disjointed mess. He’s probably out there fighting that fire. What if something happened to him? What if he gets hurt? What if we never see him again?
I slow down at a check stop and it’s the same officer that helped me out of the ditch.
“What’s going on?”
“A brush fire out by Cascade Meadows, we’re rerouting traffic. The south access is closed.”
The south access is what I need to be on. To the west of town is a short drive to the Sunshine Coast and north is up to Yukon. I need the south road that detours around the Langland Ridge mountains and then splits east to Alberta. I need to get to Alberta.
“Any word on for how long?”
He shakes his head and then waves me to the right to head to town. Millie’s eyes are fearful.
“Is Xan fighting that fire,” she says her glaze flickering over to the plumb of smoke rolling over the trees. She wants me to have the answers. The answers to everything. There is so much pressure and trust and openness in the way a child looks at a parent.
What should I do mommy?
And for the millionth time in ten years I wished I could look at my own mother and ask her the same question. What do I do, Mom?
I squeeze Millie’s hand. “It’s going to be okay. They have the best equipment.”
“But I heard Grandpa say that someone died. That’s why Xan wasn’t fighting fires. Because someone died and it made him really sad.”
My phone rings and I scoop it up fast hoping it’s Xan.
Nothing but breathing.
I pull the motorhome to the side of the road and I listen. A slow steady breath.
“Listen, I don’t know what you want from me or why you’re threatening my family, but you win, okay.”
There’s a sharp laugh on the other end and something familiar about the high pitch. The cackle. I’ve heard it before.
“Leslie?” I ask, finally placing that laugh. I’ve heard it a lot. My gut turns to lead as the voice gasps.
“Shit,” she says and hangs up.
With trembling fingers, I move through my phone to Leslie’s number and tap it. It rings and rings before voicemail picks up.
“It’s Leslie. Leave a message.” And then that laugh.
After the beep, I’m still not sure what to do so sit silent for a long moment before speaking.
“You’re the Rugged and Roam woman, aren’t you?” I ask as if she will answer me through her machine.
Another ping of my phone and I hang up to check the instagram message.
A picture of my house, the long shadow of a person stretched into the picture. In her hand was a very clear outline of a baseball bat.
I thought I’d swing by and say hi to your dad
“She’s a fucking psycho,” I mutter, and Millie whips her head my way.
I punch the gas and go to the only place I know.
The only place I trust right now.
Chapter Thirty-Two
XAN
There’s a lot of claps on the back and welcome backs from the guys on my crew. My gut spins and turns with nervous energy, that nagging voice in the back of my mind that reminds me of the mistakes I’ve made. Until I see Katrina, it’s all a tangled mess. But her warm smile and knowing eyes put me right at ease. An anomaly of a woman that Katrina. Quiet, reserved, small, but strong, sure, and has no problem telling the crew when they get a little too ‘dude bro’ she calls it.
“I’m glad you’re back, Xan,” she says as she’s suiting up. “You always were a stubborn ass.”
My hand hovers above the gear still hanging in my locker. I push a short laugh from my chest and moment I touch the rough fabric I feel home.
Shouts from crew leaders echo through the room and it’s the world shifting into realignment.
Mixed in with the old faces are a crew of new guys, young and strong. They’re eager to get out there. The green guys are always the grunt labor like digging ditches and clearing firebreaks. That’s where I started eight years ago.
One of them catches me staring and nods as we pile into the trucks. It’s a cocky nod common of young guys who feel powerful and invincible, a kid who hasn’t yet had his ass whooped by nature. I nod back because that was me. I’d been through so much in my short life, I’d overcome so many things, yet I didn’t know what hard work was until this job.
Once we’re on the site that calm energy pools in my chest as all the familiar sensations come back to me. The roar of the flame, the heat of the air, the smell of smoke, the orders and how men and women move and worked together in unison. The steady drum of my heart keeps me focused and alert. The command leader Greg claps me on the shoulder and yells my orders, I move as part of the team. Everyone has a job, command is clear and rigid, the lines that connect us through this emergency are strong.
This job can take lives.
But it can also save them.
It saved mine.
Chapter Thirty-Three
BRIGGS
I practically drag Millie to the Ryker’s front door and use my fist to bang it down. Pris answers with a scowl on her face but it quickly falls when she sees me.
Panic has taken over, everything is heightened, stronger. I have to get to my dad.
“Briggs what’s going on?”
“My dad. He’s in trouble. I can’t get ahold of Xan. I need Millie somewhere safe.”
Pris is slightly confused but Jet steps in.
“Of course,” he says and calls for Del. There’s so many Ryker’s crammed into the little porch area and they are all watching me like I’m crazy.
“Del, can you take her? Keep her here. Don’t go anywhere until you hear from me okay?” I say and Del nods holding her hand out for Millie.
I hug my daughter tight and feel her tears on my neck. “It’s going to be okay sweetheart. I promise.”
I need to stop promising her these things. Because I have no idea if it’s going to be okay. Xan is out battling fires, my dad could be getting his knees bashed in, or worse. I am reeling from the discovery that my own assistant has spent the last year torturing me. I’m such a fucking idiot. How did I not know?
“I love you,” Millie says, and I kiss her forehead.
“I love you so much. I will see you soon okay.”
Millie takes Del’s hand and Del is the only one who doesn’t look somber. She’s all excitement with sparkling eyes, but that’s because that’s what Millie needs. A distraction. There’s nowhere better for my daughter to be. No better people for her to be with.
The relief is palpable. I turn and jog down the steps and heavy thuds follow me down. Jet matches my stride easily.
“Not a fucking chance you’re going by yourself, Marchand.” He dangles his truck keys from his finger and steers me away from my motorhome.
I don’t argue because if there’s one person you want around when things go bad it’s Jet. He’s a teddy bear, sure, until he gets angry.
“So, talk,” Jet says as he fires up the truck and whips out of the drive. “I need to know everything.”
On the fifteen-minute drive back out to my house I tell him everything. The call out, the first calls, hiring Leslie, how things steadily escalated, when I got scared and came here to hide. I flashed the messages to him on my Instagram and his hands tightened around the steering wheel so hard I thought he’d snap it right off.
“She’s a little girl,” he growls to the road. He’s right, Millie doesn’t deserve any of this. No child deserves to be threatened.
I put a hand on his arm and he breaths out a bit of the tension, but in this moment, I feel sorry for Leslie for a fraction of a second. She doesn’t know the protective streak of a Ryker.
“Thank you for coming with me. I don’t think I could do it alone.” The words taste strange on my tongue.
“Did I just hear you admit that you need help?” He asks pulling into my driveway.
“No one will ever believe you. I’ll deny it ever happened.”
Jet lets a short laugh out before he turns cold and focused.
In the driveway is that black sedan. The car that ran me off the road.
“If I told you to stay in here would you listen?” Jet asks and I shake my head. “Fine, stay close okay?”
The sun is beginning to set, sending colors shooting across the sky, bouncing pinks and purples off puffs of clouds. Shadows are stretching along the lawn and I get the feeling I’ve had so often since returning to Raston. The tingling that flows along my skin like a warning sign, the hairs standing up ready to alert me of danger. My body has been sensing her presence and suddenly I’m no longer afraid. I’m fucking pissed.
The violation of being watched, followed, and tortured puts all my feelings into perspective. My steps are heavier, my shoulders stiff, my heart thumping with mama bear rage. Jet’s going to have to be the one pulling me off this bitch, because I’m going to crush her for what she’s done to Millie.
Jet grabs my arm as shadows pass through the house. I see my dad standing in the window.
“Pris called the cops,” Jet whispers tucking his phone in his pocket. “They are all caught up with this brush fire, but someone is on their way out.”
Dad yells and Leslie steps into view, the baseball bat crashing down on his shoulder. I scream and rush the porch. I’m not thinking, only moving. It’s a blur of sound and sensation. Touching metal, slamming d
oors, the breeze in my hair, the guttural sound of my anger. The slice of pain as wood makes contact with my hip, my body slamming into hers and knocking us both to the ground in a pile.
I have no control of myself, filled up and over with rage I rain unpracticed fists down on Leslie who tries to protect herself, the slice of fingernails across my skin stings but it only drives me forward harder. I’m screaming at her, clawing at her, cursing the vilest words as an entire year of fear and anger pours from my body.
Suddenly I’m yanked backward, Jet lifting me off Leslie like we were a couple of toddlers wrestling in a sandbox. He plops me down on my feet in front of my father.
Dad grabs me around the waist as I try to pounce on Leslie again. He wraps me in his arms hushes me, stroking my hair and talking calm in my ear until I slowly return to myself.
“It’s over, sweetheart. It’s over. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
There’s blood on my hands, and I touch my cheek, more blood.
The room comes back into focus and I focus in on Jet, holding Leslie with her arm pinned behind her back.
“If I let you go will you be calm?” Dad asks me and I nod pushing my tangled hair from my face. Dad hobbles across the room, pain visible in his face from his leg and Leslie’s strike. He unlocks the cabinet by the front door and grabs a pair of handcuffs from where he keeps his extra gear. He tosses them to Jet who quickly puts them on Leslie’s wrists. My dad has arrested all three of the Ryker boys at some point in their lives and I can’t help but notice this twisted turn of events.
Jet forces Leslie to sit. “The police are on the way. You might as well tell us what the fuck you were planning on doing here tonight?”
Leslie stares at Jet and turns a death glare to me. “You deserved every bit of this.” She hisses at me.
“Why? Because you got caught cheating your customers? I didn’t ruin your business, Leslie.”
Wildfire Page 18
