Igniting Ivy (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  Then I think about Brady Taylor and everything he lost. It’s not that he’s forgotten what happened, he’s just learned to deal with it in a way that allows him to live a happy life.

  I’ve seen Ivy smile. I’ve heard her laugh even. And there are fleeting moments when I swear she’s happy. But then it’s like a light switches off. I think whenever she catches herself being happy, she must feel guilty. I promise myself to do everything I can to help her get past that guilt. It’s the guilt that is holding her prisoner, I’m sure of it.

  I pack up the rest of my things and head down to the parking garage with my one large suitcase, my backpack, and my guitar. I plan to get the most out of these last four days with her. I have no idea what to expect after we go home. She doesn’t want to leave the island, that’s for sure. I think if she had her way, she’d stay here forever. Maybe she will. Maybe she’ll decide going back to where her daughter died is too painful.

  My phone rings before I start the engine. It’s Aspen.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  She squeals several unintelligible sentences into my ear.

  “Slow down, Penny. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is great!” she shrieks. “They caught them, Bass. They caught the two guys who set up Denver. He’s free. Can you believe it? He can go back to being a normal person now.”

  “What? How?”

  “I just found out myself. Denver didn’t want to tell me and get my hopes up, so he didn’t say anything until they had their trial. It just ended today. And one of the guys provided detailed emails that proved Denver didn’t know a thing about it—that he thought everything was legitimate. One of the email exchanges between the two scumbags even talked about how easy it was to fool Denver into believing it was real. A phone conversation the guy recorded had them joking about Denver having to pay restitution to the victims when they had all the money. Their sentencing is next week. I hope they go to prison. Oh my God, he’s free, Bass! And in three weeks, it will be like it never even happened. That’s about how long it’ll take to get his record expunged. He can come to the wedding. He can go anywhere!”

  It’s hard not to get caught up in her excitement. Being twins, Aspen and Denver are as close as I’ve ever seen two siblings. I know how hard his conviction was on her, especially since she’s always maintained he was innocent. I wanted to think so, too. But in my line of work, the simplest explanation is usually the right one. And all fingers pointed to Denver Andrews.

  I couldn’t be happier for them.

  “That’s the best news, Penny. Please give him my congratulations. He must be so relieved.”

  She spends the next few minutes giving me more details about it and then tells me she’s got to go to class. I sit in the car and think of how quickly someone’s life can turn around. Yesterday, Denver was a criminal with a felony record, and today, everything has changed. A complete one-eighty.

  I find myself hoping Ivy can find that same kind of change in her life. And that I’m going to be a part of it.

  I trade the hangtag on my rearview mirror for the new one Ivy got me for her parking garage, then I drive over to her resort, making a stop along the way.

  She opens the door, seeing what I have in my hands. She raises her eyebrows at me.

  “It’s made out of orchids,” I say, draping the lei around her neck. “I just really wanted you to know how much I was looking forward to you getting leid today.”

  She laughs and the sound is music to my ears. She pulls me through the doorway, kissing me before I even have a chance to grab my things. “I think that can be arranged, Sebastian Briggs.”

  “Good, but it will have to wait until later. We have plans.”

  “Plans?”

  I pull our tickets out of my backpack. “We’re going on an ATV adventure in one hour. And we’ll get dirty, so don’t wear anything nice. But wear a bathing suit underneath your clothes because there may be swimming involved.”

  “Is that the one that goes to the rope swing they used in that Harrison Ford movie?” she asks.

  “You really did do your research, didn’t you? Yes, that’s the one.”

  She sighs. “I think it also goes to a waterfall.”

  I nod. “It does. But we don’t have to see it if you don’t want to. We can hang back with the ATVs and wipe the dirt off each other’s body.”

  “Gross,” she says.

  “Okay, we can hang back with the ATVs and make out.”

  “I’ll take option number two. Just let me go and get ready. You can unpack your things if you want. There is plenty of room in the dresser and closet in the bedroom.”

  I put my guitar down next to hers and then wheel my suitcase into the bedroom. I open a drawer to find Ivy’s undergarments inside. I hold up a pair of her panties and run my fingers along the lacy edges.

  I open another drawer and see a bunch of folded T-shirts. Another has a stack of shorts.

  I smile when I get to an empty drawer and fill it with my things. I like this. I like my things being next to hers.

  I throw on an old shirt, one I don’t mind getting dirty, just as Ivy emerges from the bathroom.

  Her eyes rake over me.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  She walks over and puts her hand on my chest, tracing the FDNY letters on my left pec. “I really like this shirt,” she says. “It would be a shame to get it all dirty.”

  I immediately take it off and hand it to her. “Do you want it? It was one of the first shirts I was given when I joined the department.”

  She turns it over, studying my last name printed across the back. Then she puts the shirt in the same drawer as her panties. Lucky shirt.

  “I think I like you wearing my clothes,” I say. “Feel free to wear whatever you want whenever you want.”

  “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t extend the same invitation to you,” she says with a smirk.

  “Another joke?” I say. “I think there must be a comedian hiding somewhere in there.”

  I put on another shirt and then kiss her. “I look forward to seeing you in that shirt later tonight. And then I look forward to seeing you out of it.”

  ~ ~ ~

  I’m not sure how Ivy makes a helmet, goggles, and bandana look sexy, but she does.

  They were right. You do get dirty on this excursion. In fact, we both have clean spots running diagonally down our shirts where our seatbelts cross our bodies, but the rest of us is covered with a layer of dirt.

  I love driving the ATV. Each couple or family got their own. We play follow the leader through the center of the island on narrow back roads and steep hills. We stop along the side of the road a few times so the tour guides can give us some history of the island or point out interesting spots that were used for filming movies.

  We get to our first destination and Ivy pulls her bandana off her face. I laugh, reaching over to try and wipe some dirt that collected on the strip of skin between her bandana and her goggles. But it doesn’t matter. Dirty or not, she’s still beautiful.

  We hike down a short trail to a river. The tour guide grabs a rope swing. “This is the exact spot where Indiana Jones swung on a rope out into the river where his biplane was waiting for him in Raiders of the Lost Ark.” He points up to the embankment. “Harrison Ford came right down there and did the stunt himself. You all can experience the same thing right now if you want to.”

  Our guide gives us a demonstration and then asks who wants to try it.

  “Hell yeah,” I say, getting in line.

  I raise my eyebrows at Ivy.

  She shakes her head and takes a step back. “I think I’ll just watch.”

  The other guide plays the theme song from the movie loudly over his Bluetooth speaker as some of us swing out and drop into the water.

  I climb out of the water and go over to Ivy. “Come on. You’re the fearless one.”

  She gives me a look. “Fearless or stupid?” she asks.

  I reach up and
cup her chin. “You’re not stupid, Ivy. Those things you did—getting close to the edge of the canyon, going behind that waterfall—I don’t think you did those things because you’re stupid. I think you did them to help you feel alive.”

  She studies me. “You’re pretty terrific. I hope you know that.”

  “Come on.” I grab her hand and lead her over to the rope swing. “Let’s go feel alive.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Two hours later, after a picnic lunch and more exploring, we reach our final destination. Everyone else exits their vehicles and follows the guide down the long path to the base of the waterfall where there is a swimming hole.

  I reach over and grab Ivy’s hand. “Want to make out?” I ask.

  She looks at my filthy face and clothes and scrunches up her nose.

  I use my bandana to wipe my face. “Oh, come on. I’m not that dirty.”

  She looks over to where everyone disappeared down the path. “Maybe we should go see it,” she says. “You know, just so you can wash off all the dirt and grime.”

  “I’m fine up here or down there,” I tell her. “I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

  She nods. “I think I want to go see it.”

  We get out of the ATV and walk over to the descending stairway that’s been built from tree branches and rocks. It’s steep, and we hold on to each other to keep from falling. The path winds around in S-curves as it takes us lower and lower. We are becoming engulfed by the large bamboo trees lining the trail.

  Ivy stops her progress, looking up at our surroundings. “I feel like we’re in that movie where the people get shrunk down and are walking through blades of grass.”

  I look up at the tall, green bamboo surrounding us, and damned if that’s not exactly how it feels. I grab my phone and snap a picture of her.

  After I put my phone away, I see Ivy staring at a small grouping of flowers at the base of the bamboo. I swear I can see the hint of a smile cross her face as she regards them. I reach out to pluck one of the flowers at the stem to put in her hair, but she stops me.

  “No, don’t,” she says, pulling my hand back. “Let it live.”

  She runs her finger down the petals of some of the flowers. “Come on,” she says, standing up and leading the way.

  We turn a corner and finally the falls come into view. They aren’t huge falls like the ones we saw from the helicopter or the one we climbed behind the other day. It only goes up twenty or so feet, the water coming down into a lagoon below where people are swimming. Kids are going under the falls, letting the water drench them from above.

  “It’s so pretty,” Ivy says.

  But she doesn’t go any closer. She just sits down on a large rock, watching people take their turns going into the falls. She sits in silence for twenty minutes, staring. I stand behind her, rubbing her shoulders the entire time.

  When the guides tell everyone to wrap it up because it’s time to go, Ivy finally stands up. She looks over at the falls and then back at me. “I … I want to …” She takes a few steps toward the waterfall, looking at it longingly. “But it’s too late.”

  “Come on, folks,” the guide says, walking past us. “Let’s head back up.”

  I reach into my pocket and pull out some money, handing it to him. “Can this buy us ten minutes?” I beg him. “Please? It’s important.”

  He nods. “Ten,” he says. Then he herds the others back up the windy path and out of sight.

  I take my shirt off and drop my phone and wallet onto it. Then Ivy lets me take her top off. She looks at me warily as she removes her shorts, leaving her standing in her bikini.

  I grab her hand and lead her to the entrance of the lagoon. We wade in and make our way over to right in front of the waterfall. She reaches her hand out, palm up, to feel the water as it cascades over it. Then she closes her eyes and steps forward until her body is completely under the falls. Her head falls back and the water rushes over her face and chest before rolling off to join the water in the lagoon.

  I watch her stand beneath the falls. I wonder what she’s feeling. I wonder what she’s thinking. Whatever it is, she needs it.

  Her shoulders start to shake. She’s crying. And I stand back and let her. It’s like she’s becoming one with the waterfall. But then something miraculous happens. Her crying turns to laughter. She’s spinning around beneath the falls, laughing like a child.

  When I can’t stand not touching her any longer, I come up behind her and wrap her into a hug, both of us standing in waist-deep water. I turn her around and we stare at each other as the gentle falls roll over us.

  “Thank you,” she says, running her fingers down the side of my arm. “I will never forget this moment for as long as I live.”

  “Me neither.” I raise my hands to her face, putting one on either side of it. “I love you, Ivy Greene. And if you’ll let me, I’m going to tell you that every day for the rest of your life.”

  “I think I might like that,” she says, smiling. “Because I’m pretty sure I love you, too, Sebastian Briggs.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ivy

  The past few days have been unlike any I’ve ever known. I’ve been happy—something I never thought I’d be again. I stare at the pictures we bought at the luau that are perched side by side on the dresser. These two pictures are the epitome of our time here. I’m so glad I bought the waterfall one. I wanted it because waterfalls were Dahlia’s favorite thing about this island. But now it has two meanings to me.

  I look at Bass, still asleep on the pillow next to mine, and I think of how my life has changed these past weeks. I look at the picture of Dahlia on my bedside table. The picture I don’t have to hide from him anymore. Because with Bass, I don’t have to hide my pain. He lets me show it. He lets me experience it. And in some strange way, that has seemed to lessen it.

  I study every curve of his chest. Every angle of his face. I don’t want this to end. I want to wake up to him every day. But today is our last full day together. I only have one more morning to wake up next to him. Then everything changes.

  “Stop it,” Bass says, waking up to catch me staring at him.

  “Stop what?”

  “Thinking about how today is our last day together.” He pulls me into his arms. “Because it’s not. It’s just the beginning.”

  “Do you really think we can make this work?” I ask.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Last week you told me firefighters shouldn’t get involved with people they rescue. I feel like you rescued me, Sebastian.”

  His finger traces the edges of my cheek. Then he leans in and gives me a gentle kiss. “It’s quite the opposite, sweetheart. I’ve been running on autopilot for a long time, just going through the motions. I love my job, but I knew there should be more to life than that. You’re my more.”

  I smile at him before resting my head on his chest. “Tell me about your job. I think I’ll always worry about you getting hurt in a fire.”

  “Fires are actually a very small part of the job,” he says. “Seventy-five percent of our calls are medical.”

  “Don’t you have ambulances for that?”

  “We do have an ambulance in our firehouse. We call it a bus.”

  “A bus? Why would you call an ambulance a bus?”

  I laugh. “Depends on who you ask. Some people think it goes back to the days when ambulances would transport multiple people at a time. Then there are the stories of an old company that built buses for the city, but they also built ambulances. Others just think it’s a shortened version of the word ambulance. It’s really just a story of legend at this point.”

  “So, the buses must stay pretty busy if so many calls are medical,” she says.

  “They do. But even if a call is medical, they still dispatch my engine company a lot of the time. We never have a full idea of what we’re getting into because most callers are frantic and the information is minimal. And even if it’s not a major medical emergency, the patient’s
weight or placement may be an issue and extra manpower may be needed.”

  “But what about the other twenty-five percent of your calls? Those are the ones I’ll worry about. That’s a lot of fires.”

  “Most of those calls aren’t even fire related. They consist of traffic accidents and fire alarms mostly. And we get a lot of calls about people stuck in elevators. When we do get calls about fires, most of them are kitchen fires, or fires in a garage or workshop due to mishandling of gasoline or chemicals. True fires, like what most people think of when flames are coming out of windows and smoke billowing into the sky—those only happen about once a week or so.”

  My heart races just hearing him say it. “That’s enough for me to worry about you, Bass.”

  He kisses my head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m good at what I do.”

  “Do you think one day when we get back, I could come by the station and see where you work?”

  “I’d like that,” he says. “And what about you? Do you think I can come see where you work?”

  I know what he’s really asking. He’s asking if I’m going to go back to work. I’ve thought about that a lot during my stay here. I know I should. I know I probably need to. I can’t go back to the way I was before I came to Hawaii. I can’t go back to lying in bed all day watching mindless television while my parents support me.

  I think about trying to go back to the flower shop—the place that reminds me of Dahlia almost as much as her bedroom does—the bedroom I would sit and cry in every day while staring at her flower-lined walls. She would often come to work with me and help me arrange flowers. And when I was on the computer, or doing paperwork, she would draw. She drew so many pictures of flowers that we ran out of wall space in her room to pin them up.

  Then I think about the waterfall and how sad I was to see it. But when I gave myself a chance, when I let myself think about how happy it would have made her, it became something different. Something unexpected. It became a happy memory, not a sad one. And although I know going back to work will be hard, because all I will see is Dahlia sitting at her little table in the corner, drawing pictures, I wonder if eventually it will feel like seeing a waterfall.