Light My Fire

by Lucy Snow

  “Yeah. I’m sorry to have led you on like that before, Alex.”

  My own fake name started sounding more wrong by the moment. “How come you did that?”

  Avery shrugged. “We didn’t know each other, and you kinda came out of nowhere. I didn’t realize we’d spend any time together, and I was, uh, I guess a little worried to be talking to a stranger like that.”

  I thought that over for a few seconds while Avery kept looking at me wondering how I’d respond. “That’s…fair,” I said, seeing her face light up as she took me in. “I might have done the same thing.”

  She laughed again, this time for real. “Oh yeah? Hiding something behind those eyes?”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  I held my gaze steady and her smile dropped. “Really?”

  I nodded. “In the interest of more disclosure…”

  “Oh man.” Avery slumped over a bit before looking at me again. “OK, let me have it.”

  “My name’s not Alex.”

  “What is it?”

  “Eames. Eames Beckett.”

  “Eames. Eaaaaaaames,” she said, sounding out my real name just like I’d sounded hers out a few minutes ago. “I like it!” She squinted at me. “So why the fake name, then?”

  “I, uh, don’t like to give my real name out to strangers.”

  “How come, eh?” Avery said, ribbing me again. “On the run from the cops?”

  I laughed. “Not in this country.”

  Avery gave me a queer look before I kept going. “It’s just that my, uh, family is kinda well known in Meridian. My father built Beckett Mercantile.”

  “I’ve heard of that.”

  “Yeah. Most people have. I don’t really have anything to do with the company, so I, uh, like to lay low.”

  “Makes sense.”

  All of a sudden I was hit with a wave of fatigue that washed over me like I’d been thrown into a full bathtub. My eyes fluttered, and Naomi-I mean, Avery, looked at me with concern. “You need to rest,” she said, getting up off the bed. “Get some sleep, I’ll check on you in a couple hours, OK?”

  “Yeah,” I said weakly. “I’ll do that. You do that.”

  She smiled at me. “And, uh, Eames? I’ll make you a deal.”

  “What’s that?”

  “No more secrets between us, OK?”

  “Yeah. That sounds good.”

  And then she was gone and I was all alone in my warm bed.

  The last thought that came to mind before blissful sleep came over me was that there was way more to this girl than I’d thought.

  CHAPTER 15 - AVERY

  It took almost two days for Alex-I mean, Eames, to recover from his ordeal out on the snow. I was more or less fine, but I’d been able to huddle under the tree for most of it, avoiding almost all of the direct effects of the storm.

  The storm hadn’t let up yet, and Marty and Clara and I were at a loss for how long it would keep going. Luckily the inn was well stocked, especially for only 4 people, and we had enough supplies and firewood to last us for weeks if necessary.

  When I wasn’t watching Eames to make sure he was OK, I was down in the kitchens helping Clara, or making sure all the supplies were in order with Marty. I even managed to try my hand at splitting firewood once or twice, which ended up being way more fun than I had ever imagined. I guessed there was just something that appealed to me about swinging an axe around.

  Eames was progressing nicely, sitting up in bed and starting to walk up and about for short amounts of time. It was fatigue, mainly, that was keeping him from being 100%, but without any medical stuff or expertise beyond a first aid kit, none of us could be sure, and that worried me.

  But at the same time, he seemed to be coming along well, so after a day or so I stopped being nearly as worried. We didn’t talk much more about all the heavy stuff we’d brought up before, but it didn’t feel like the right time anymore.

  We were in a weird place right now, but I figured that after he made a full recovery that kinda stuff would come up again. I was thrilled that he’d managed to get my sister’s diary back, though, and I still couldn’t believe he’d gone through all that trouble and put himself at such risk for someone he barely knew, and didn’t seem to like.

  Maybe there was more to him than I thought?

  So yeah, weird place. For the next two days we gave each other long looks when we thought the other wasn’t watching, and looked away quickly when we got caught. It was all very childish, but at the same time, I couldn’t find the right time to actually say something.

  The second evening after we’d come in from our harrowing ordeal outside, I was eating dinner in the dining room with Marty and Clara when we heard a creaking on the stairs, and looked up to see Eames coming down, wrapped up tight in a blanket.

  He looked a little weak, and as though he’d lost a little weight, but other than that, just as gorgeous as ever. I marveled at how good that man could look just a matter of a couple days after almost dying out in a snowstorm.

  Some people had all the luck.

  I stood up immediately. “Hey! I was just eating, I was going to bring you something when I was done. Everything alright?”

  “Yeah, yeah, sit, don’t get up.” I sat back down. “Figured I’d get out of my room for a bit and see what I was missing around here.”

  “Good to see you up and about, young man,” Marty said. “Clara and I were real worried about you.”

  “I’m glad you’re doing better, Al-Eames,” Clara said. Eames looked at her, and she smiled. “Oh yes, Avery told us all about it.” She giggled. “I think it’s very funny, all this pretending to be other people.” She clapped her hands together. “You young people and your silly games.”

  “We played games too, Clara,” Marty said, winking at her.

  “Oh, hush, you!” Clara hissed, smiling and going red at the same time. “Kids, pay the old man no mind. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  I laughed along with them. Watching Marty and Clara together over the last couple days had warmed my heart — they were so obviously in love and had been for such a long time, that they seemed like two sides of the same person to people watching. I could only wonder how much of their relationship was unspoken by now, a reflex, something learned.

  It occurred to me for the first time that I’d like to have something like that.

  Some day.

  But not now — right now I had more important things to worry about.

  “Food’s in the kitchen?” Eames asked, pointing to the doorway behind us.

  “Yes, dear,” Clara said. “Do you want to help yourself or should I serve you?”

  “I can do it, you stay right there,” Eames said, already headed toward the kitchen door. “Smell’s amazing from here.”

  “It is amazing,” I said, picking up my spoon and taking another long sip of the delicious chicken soup that Clara had concocted. “I could eat this every day forever.”

  Clara gleamed at the compliment and poked Marty on the chest. “See? They like my cooking.”

  “I like it too!” Marty shouted. “Why else would I stay married to you?!”

  “Oh, hush.”

  Eames came back into the room a minute later, with a piping hot bowl filled to the brim with chunky soup. He sat down across from me on the bench and dug right in after giving me a quick smile.

  We all kept eating, until Marty sat straight up and looked at Clara. “Why are you kicking me, woman?”

  I didn’t know what was going on, but Clara gave Marty a severe look and indicated toward the kitchen, and finally Marty must have gotten whatever Clara was trying to convey, because he sighed and stood up, picking up his bowl. He muttered something about finishing in the back and was off.

  Clara watched him go, beaming at us the entire time before getting up herself. “Oh, no, you kids stay right here. Marty and I have something to take care of in the back, we’ll finish up our dinners there.” She shook her
spoon at us. “Now, don’t forget, there’s plenty more where that came from, and more bread for dipping too. Eat as much as you like.”

  And then Clara was gone too, leaving Eames and I all alone in the dining room. I could hear their receding footsteps as they got further and further away from us, until the sounds stopped entirely.

  Both of us let out a long breath, which I hadn’t realized I was holding, and we both laughed.

  “Awkward…” Eames said.

  “Right? Super weird!”

  Eames chuckled. “Can’t really blame them, though.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, Princess. Keep eating.” And I stared at him while he leaned back over and started eating again, taking huge bites of the amazing soup. I felt my hackles start to rise, but as I watched him pull the blanket around his shoulders, I wanted to let that ‘princess’ slide.

  This once. Again.

  We kept eating, and both of us went back for seconds, scooping heaps of noodles and chicken into our bowls before filling in the surroundings with the tasty broth. Eames brought back half a loaf of the homemade bread I was convinced Clara could become famous for, and we shared it, breaking off hunks and dunking them into the soup before tossing them back.

  We were both famished and there wasn’t much time to speak - I didn’t want the delicious soup to get cold! Apparently Eames had the same idea, and when we were done, we both pushed our bowls to the center of the table and sat back.

  “I can barely move,” I managed to get out.

  “Why would you ever want to move? I could stay right here forever,” Eames replied.

  “That…doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “As long as Clara keeps cooking for us.”

  “Someone’s gonna have to chop some firewood at some point.”

  Eames sighed. “I suppose I can do that.”

  “Not so fast, hot shot, you’re not the only one who can. I took a couple turns at it while you were out.”

  “Yeah?” Eames cocked his head to the side and smiled at me. “You chopped wood?”

  “I did.” I watched him for a moment. “What? Why’s that so surprising?”

  He held his hands up. “Nothing, no reason.”

  “You’re being awfully cagey tonight, Eames.”

  Eames looked around the room, exasperated. “Cagey is a good word for it, but for a different reason.” He waved his hands around before slipping them back under his blanket. “Isn’t that what this is?”

  I pointed out the window at the billowing storm whipping snow back and forth as the darkness of night approached. “Better being in a cage like this with a warm fire and people to take care of us than out there in that, or have you forgotten how cold it can get out there already?”

  Eames shuddered and pulled the blanket tighter. “No, I haven’t forgotten. Doubt I’ll ever be able to forget that.”

  “Well, then, we’re stuck here, at least until this all plays out and the world runs out of snow.”

  Eames chuckled. “Could be a long time before that happens.”

  “You’ve heard of global warming, right? That’s gotta be working in our favor at least this once.”

  Eames’ smile disappeared. “Yeah, I heard of it. Seen a lot of it’s effects too.”

  “Whoa there, didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

  “It’s alright. Touchy subject for me.”

  “Your relief work?”

  Eames nodded. “Yeah. Lots of global warming refugees in other parts of the world, and it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets any better.”

  “Can it?”

  “Get worse? Sure. Get better? Maybe.” Eames leaned back and smiled. “OK, now it’s my fault for bringing the mood down.” He looked out the big window. “This kinda storm sure does make you question some things, though.”

  I let that hang there and we stayed quiet for another couple minutes, both looking out the window, watching nature continue keeping us stuck here together.

  “What do we do now?” I finally said, pulling his bowl toward mine and stacking the two together. “Game of Scrabble?”

  Eames smiled but shook his head. “Never my game.”

  “Too scared I’ll beat you?”

  “I mean, you wouldn’t, but sure, let’s call it that.”

  “OK, no Scrabble, then, chicken. What instead?”

  “I don’t know.”

  More silence.

  “Hey,” I said, without thinking. I looked down, letting the words come out too fast. “Tell me something.”

  I thought I saw Eames frown a little bit, but he quickly recovered. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “When I brought you back in here a couple days ago,” I started, realizing that now I was committed, even if I didn’t like the answers I was going to get. “You were a little…delirious.”

  Eames’ face was flat and unreadable. “What did I say?”

  “Something about your Dad? And how you couldn’t do…what he wanted?”

  Now Eames’ face clouded over, a mask of frustration and anger as soon as I said, ‘Dad.’ “I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered, waving me away.

  “No, wait, Eames, I want to talk about this!” I said. “I opened up to you, I think it’s only fair that you give me the same courtesy.”

  “I really don’t want to have this conversation, Avery. Please let’s change the subject.”

  I stayed quiet for a moment, but even I knew in the back of my mind that it wouldn’t last. I was too curious, and I was long past the point of no return. I had to know.

  “You also said something about having met someone else. What was that about?”

  “OK, that’s it,” Eames said, with a finality that I hadn’t heard in his voice before. “I’m going back to my room.” He stood up, pulled the blanket around him even tighter and walked off.

  “What happened to ‘no more secrets,’ Eames?” I stood up and called after him. “How long did that last?”

  Eames didn’t even give me a response; I was talking to his back and then his feet as he started up the stairs.

  And then I was all alone in the dining room. I sat back down and stayed there for a long time, looking out the window and silently berating myself for not letting things go, for not letting sleeping dogs lie. Of course Eames didn’t want to talk about himself. I barely knew the guy and he’d already given me a fake name just to avoid talking who he was; I should have gotten the hint when I’d found that out!

  I just couldn’t let things go — it wasn’t in my nature. And now, just as we were starting to get along, I’d gone ahead and blew it.

  Come on, Avery, not again.

  Finally, I sighed and picked up the dishes and took them to the kitchen, making sure to put the rest of the soup and bread away so Marty and Clara wouldn’t have to. I made sure the fireplace had enough wood to last the evening and went upstairs, avoiding even looking at Eames’ door before I went to the bathroom and got ready for bed.

  As I went back to my room I couldn’t help but look under his door and see the glow from candles coming through the gap — he was still awake in there.

  I went right up to the door and even had my hand clasped together to knock on it and apologize and tell him that I’d stop prying into things he didn’t want to talk about, but something held me back and I couldn’t make myself go any further.

  Silently, I turned and went back to my own room, stepping as lightly as I could to avoiding giving away any telltale creaks from these old floorboards, but I managed to make only the tiniest of sounds before closing my door softly behind me.

  My room was as I’d left it, cozy and warming up from the venting. I lit a couple more candles and settled into bed to read for a bit, but even though the romance novel I’d picked up, book one of a three book series about football players for the New England Patriots, was amazing, I couldn’t keep my mind on the story, not with thoughts of the man across the hall running through my mind.
>
  I didn’t know what to do, except blow out the candles and go to sleep, but even after I’d done so, sleep wouldn’t come. I didn’t know what time it was, but I knew that I kept tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. I was warm enough, so that wasn’t it. There was just something…different.

  And then I heard it.

  The creak on the other side of the door. I breathed in deep, waiting in anticipation.

  I didn’t have to wait long, even though I quickly forgot that I was holding my breath.

  The knock on my door.

  And then another.

  And another.

  I exhaled, throwing off the blankets and wincing as my bare feet hit the cold floor. I knew who it was even before I opened the door.

  Eames stood on the other side, wearing dark loose pants and a thin t-shirt stretched over his muscular frame. I saw the tattoos snaking out from under the sleeves and the collar.

  He looked amazing, the low light accentuating every facet and curve of his muscles. He looked like a living, breathing, statue of a man. I was enthralled.

  He took a tentative step into my room and I stepped back, our eyes locked together. He took another step and I held up my hand just as he stepped forward again and my hand stopped on his chest.

  “Are you sure?” I whispered.

  Eames looked down and then found my eyes again. “Do you want me to go?” He asked.

  “No,” I said immediately. “Just not like last time. Promise me not like last time.”

  He nodded, and I felt a small gust of wind as he closed the door behind him. I realized in a passing moment that I hadn’t heard him actually promise tonight would be different from before, but the thought disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. My hand was still on his chest, and through his barely-there shirt I could feel his heart beating.

  Faster now.

  And then I’d thrown my arms around his neck as Eames came forward and pulled me off the floor and into him and we were kissing like it was the first time and there might not be a next time, so now was the time to enjoy it like it was the last time.

  Long and deep kisses punctuated by short, little pecks here and there, our tongues intermingling, our lips pulling at each other’s lips slowly but surely. Little kisses down my neck that made me gasp as plumes of fire erupted throughout my body, and all I could feel was him all around me, lifting me up and holding me, keeping me safe.