Wildfire

by Allison Martin

  “Do you play baseball?” she asks pointing to my shirt. I pinch the fabric and hold it out.

  “I used to, not so much anymore.”

  “He was very good,” Briggs cut in leaning into Millie. “He played in University.”

  Her cheeks flare and she glances at me for only a moment but I already figured it out. That was after she left. She really did keep tabs on me.

  “Really?” Millie asks.

  “I was alright, I guess. My brother still plays, and so does my sister.”

  “You have a brother and sister?” Millie leans into the table and I feel this frantic need to keep her eyes on me.

  “I have two brothers and three sisters.”

  Millie’s eyes widen and I chuckle at her astonishment that there are six kids in my family. That’s what happens when your parents are strict old school Christians. Wait til marriage, no birth control, let the cards lie where Jesus tosses them.

  “What are their names?”

  “Jethro is twenty-seven, just a year younger than me, Priscilla is twenty-five, Delilah is twenty-two, Ezekiel is twenty, and Tabitha is eighteen, graduating high school this year.”

  “Wow, already?” Briggs joins in and I nod.

  “It’s crazy.” I lean back in the seat feeling more comfortable. We’re conversing. All of us. Having a conversation.

  The waitress approaches our table and as soon as I make eye contact, all my confidence evaporates from my body in the heat of my discomfort.

  “You?” the waitress says to me and Briggs frowns in disappointment while Millie tilts her head in confusion.

  The waitress is tall and sexy and very pissed to see me. I wouldn’t blame her. The last time I saw her I was shit face drunk and spent the night at her apartment. I woke up with no clue what her name was and unable to find my underwear. I still don’t know what her name is.

  She scans over to Briggs and Millie, her gaze snapping back and forth between Millie and me.

  Oh shit.

  This is ten ways to fucked up and I’m the bad guy in every scenario. She thinks this is my family. That I cheated on my wife with her, that I have a kid at home. I can’t exactly defend myself without openly admitting that I had no clue I was a dad and this is the first time meeting my kid.

  Either way, I’m an asshole. So, I accept my fate and relax back into the booth.

  I’ll give the waitress credit. She has professionalism by the boat load because her wild eyes settle and her smile is fake but barely.

  “What can I get you to drink, Sweetie?” she asks Millie. Millie orders a coke, Briggs an iced tea.

  “What do you have on tap?” I ask and Briggs shoots me a death glare.

  “You don’t drink in front of her?” I do my best to ignore the waitress’ flash of confusion.

  “I drink in front of her,” Briggs says, tilting her head to the side saturated in judgment. “You don’t drink in front of her. Not today, Xan.”

  How many ways can I be reminded that I’m trash in a five-minute time span? A lot apparently.

  “I’ll get a coke,” I finally say to the waitress and she leaves before I’m done speaking. Briggs still studies me with those goddamn trust seeking eyes.

  “I thought it would take the edge off.” I don’t know why I feel defensive, but it tangles me up in a knotted ball.

  “Do you do that often? Take the edge off?” Briggs asks me and she may as well slap me straight in the face. It would hurt less. Not to mention she sounds like Miss Uptight with her judgy eyebrows and scratching pencil.

  “I’m not him, Briggs. You of all people know that.” The statement is so sharp she sits back in her chair.

  I am not my father.

  And I will never treat Millie like he treated me.

  I’ve known this girl for all of ten minutes but there’s no truer statement.

  I turn my attention back to Millie.

  “So, I take it you like baseball?” I revert the conversation back to her. I want to know everything about her nine years and baseball sounds like a good place to start. Her face lights up.

  “I love it. I’ve only ever gotten to play a few games. Mom and I move around a lot, especially in the summer. But I practice all the time. She makes sure any time we’re close she takes me to a batting cage to practice.”

  Millie twists her hands in her lap as she talks, only making brief bits of eye contact. I have about seven million questions for Briggs but right now I want Millie to keep talking to me. I’m mesmerized by her voice, her mannerisms, her stories. How could I have lived my whole life before this not knowing the sound of her voice?

  Chapter Seven

  BRIGGS

  I may as well be in a different universe the way Xan zeroes in on Millie and gives her a thousand percent of his attention. But Xan is great at that. It was his greatest skill.

  He’s the kind of guy who makes you feel like there are no other girls in the entire world. Charming is what some would call it.

  But as I watch him forget the room and pull the best smiles from our daughter, I can’t help but feel afraid for her. Xan doesn’t know that when her voice goes up like this it means she’s excited. He doesn’t know how she cracks her knuckles when she’s nervous or how she chews her lip when she’s lying.

  He doesn’t know how she cried after touching a burnt tree after visiting a burn site in Northern Yukon because the fire took a whole forest and it must have hurt all the trees and animals that lived in them. She’s a sweet, sensitive girl and I have to clasp my hands in my lap and stop my boot heel from slamming down on the ground, itching to grab her and run.

  “What do you do? As your job?” Millie’s voice faintly pushes through my thoughts and I remind myself for the billionth time that this is good. My job as her mother isn’t to stop her from feeling pain or sadness it’s to help guide her through it so she comes out the other side stronger and more resilient. If he hurts her, I will help her heal.

  “I’m a wild land firefighter,” Xan says leaning in and my focus hones in on him like a laser.

  “You’re a what?” I ask and he glances at me like he forgot I’m even here.

  “I fight forest fires.” He relaxes back into the dark red vinyl seat and rubs his palms on his jeans.

  Millie’s eyes widen with wonder and I see her building his pedestal as he speaks.

  “I thought you did construction with Jet?” I join the conversation leaning forward and Xan mimics my body language shifting and resting his elbows on the table.

  “I help him out sometimes. In the winter. It makes more than taking EI.” Xan glances down at the table where he rests his elbows and I notice the definition in his bare arms. Powerful hands, thick forearms, and biceps that stretch his faded black tee. Construction. Firefighting. The changes I noticed the other night in him made sense now.

  “What’s EI?” Millie asks and I swear Xan blushes. It doesn’t surprise me that he’d rather work himself into the ground than take money from the government. I remember all his secondhand clothes and tattered school supplies and the kids from East Raston whispering behind his back about his parent’s welfare. Which his parents weren’t on welfare, but kids are mean and dumb. Especially wealthy, privileged kids. I would know I was one.

  I believed all the rumors about the Ryker family as a kid. A few of them proved to be true, but mostly it was easiest for the East Raston kids to pick on the most stereotypically White Trash family in town as they called Xan and his siblings. All West Raston-ers were poor, but the Rykers had the added benefit of being the kids of a Jesus obsessed zealot and an abusive drunk who both believed their families helped found this town with guidance from the Lord. Xan was embarrassed of his parents—he’d told me so many times. He always fought so hard to be different from them. It seems like that hasn’t changed.

  “Firefighting only happens in the summer, Sweetie. So, in the winter there’s no work for Xan and the Employment Insurance would be a way for Xan to make money to be able to afford t
o live until the next summer. But he chooses to work with his brother instead, so he doesn’t need it.” I adjust Millie’s braid on her shoulder, hyper aware of my ability to offend Xan.

  Our gazes meet across the table and he gives me a warm smile, his thick lips stretching thin, and his cheeks showing his dimples through the scruff that dusts his jaw. A long moment of silence stretches across the table until the waitress brings our food, gently placing mine and Millie’s with a pleasantries and then plunking down Xan’s plate with a clatter and a glare.

  “She doesn’t seem like she likes you very much,” Millie points out and I hide my laugh behind my hand, having a feeling I might know why. Xan lifts the bun off his burger and shifts his fries around.

  “She does not,” he says inspecting his food. “I’m checking to make sure she didn’t spit in it.”

  Millie bursts into giggles. “Gross!”

  “I know, right? Does it look okay to you?” Xan slides his plate across the table.

  Millie leans over the food and makes a show of her inspection. “I think it’s okay.”

  “Good,” Xan says slapping the bun on, scooping up the burger and taking a huge bite. Ketchup smears across his cheek and crumbs fall from his lips. “It’s delicious.”

  Millie doubles over in a fit of giggles and Xan shifts focus to me only for a moment, giving me a playful wink as he wipes his face. The gesture rips through my body, dragging up old feelings of lust that I swore I’d keep buried forever. Quickly the desire I locked away turns to fear as a new thought bombards my mind. Xan is magnetic. He’s light and heat. He isn’t just fire.

  Xan is the sun. He brings warmth and happiness to those around him, but he burns from the inside, out. If you get too close it could be overwhelming, suffocating, and all consuming. I’ve been consumed by him before, burnt to ash by his love for me. I rebuilt myself from those ashes, and I can’t let him draw me in again.

  “Mom’s like super famous,” Millie says popping a fry into her mouth and I raise an eyebrow, finally rejoining the conversation.

  Xan sits back in his seat with a mocking grin on his face. “I didn’t realize I was hanging out with a celebrity.”

  I bark out a laugh and stab a leaf of spinach from my salad, saving my burger for after.

  “I’m not famous. To be honest no one knows who I am at all. My company is famous.”

  “And that means what?” Xan asks, that thousand percent focus shifts to me and I feel the little butterflies begin to grow in my belly.

  “I run Wild & Free Jewelry company,” I start, ready to explain my business and why it’s famous but I’m not but Xan’s face scrunches into a confused recognition.

  “That’s the mystery jewelry company on Instagram, the one where no one knows the creator.”

  It’s my turn to be confused. “How do you know that?”

  “Well, for one it’s famous...” he deadpans, and I swat his arm across the table. The first contact in ten years but the crack of electricity still burns bright.

  “Del’s obsessed. She buys all the collector pieces. She says she’s determined to get one from every province and territory in Canada. Her cross Canada collection. Do you know there’s like a Facebook group dedicated to figuring out who you are?”

  I nod, ignoring the burning in my gut at his words. I do know. There’ve been a few times I was almost discovered. And only because of copycats who came after me, viciously trolling my Instagram account.

  Xan’s smile stretches until his perfect teeth are exposed and a laugh escapes.

  “What?” I say with a full bite of burger in my mouth.

  “I’m thinking of you as an Instagram influencer.” His laugh slants his words. “You know based on historical fact.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” I point my fork at him.

  “I think he is,” Millie pipes up and I give her a hard side eye.

  “Thank you, Emilia Geneille Marchand,” I say and Xan’s expression goes flat so fast it gives me whiplash.

  “Are you okay?” I ask and he glances at Millie a few times.

  “I’m fine.” It’s short and clipped but I understand it completely. Something’s bothering him but he won’t tell me in front of her.

  We eat our dinner in silence, the awkwardness I was afraid of creeping in. The only words spoken for the next fifteen minutes are me threatening Millie to eat her veggies. Xan watches us argue and thankfully for him never sticks his nose into it.

  The bill comes and Xan snatches it up before I can reach it. He did this when we were teenagers. Sometimes we would get into full wrestling matches in the booth to get the bill, but Xan always won, either pinning me, tickling me, or kissing me. All of which were distracting enough for him to easily snatch the paper from my hands.

  I never laughed as hard as I did around him. I never felt anything as intensely as I did around him. Apparently, that’s still true.

  He pays the bill and then we’re standing outside in the cool spring air. I stand back, trying my best to let them figure this out on their own. To set their own boundaries and expectations.

  “It was great to meet you, Millie.” Xan tucks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on the heels of his worn-out work boots. Millie plays with a braid that hangs down her shoulder, her toe digging into the cement. I ache inside for her, wanting to throw my body over hers and protect her from everything the world could ever throw at her. But if I protect her from the bad, I’ll inadvertently block out the good. I have no clue if this is going to be good or bad yet.

  “You too,” Millie squeaks, her cheeks flaring red. “Um, am I going to see you again? Maybe?”

  My shoulders tense and fists ball at my sides, ready to launch into Xan if he says one wrong thing.

  “If you want to then of course. Any time.”

  Millie smiles big and looks at me. I try my best to put encouragement behind my own features.

  “Maybe, we could, um, throw, or uh, play. Baseball, I mean. Or something.” Her insecurity comes out thick and she shuffles her feet, tugging her braid so hard I she might pull it right out.

  “Absolutely. You name the day and time and I’ll be there.” Xan assures her and Millie relaxes. I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “Sweetie, can you wait in the car for a moment? I’d like to talk to Xan.”

  Millie waves and crawls into dad’s truck. As soon as the door clicks shut, I turn to Xan and before I can say anything he lets out the loudest, heaviest breath I ever heard.

  He bends at the middle and braces his hands on his knees. “Oh, fucking hell. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.”

  He waits for my response but I can’t move through my stunned state. He stretches his body upright, running his hands through his hair over his head and clasps them behind his neck, tilting his chin to the sky.

  “How did I do?” When his eyes meet mine finally, there’s fear in them and it cracks me open to the core of my being. None of this is going even a little bit like I’d predicted. I’ve spent years believing he didn’t want this. “Do you think she likes me?”

  Insecurity laces through his voice so thick I want to cry. You know, if I were a crier.

  “I think she likes you.” I assure him. It’s obvious he does want this.

  “Good. Okay, I wasn’t sure for a bit there. I kinda blacked out.”

  I burst out laughing, step closer and pat his chest, the muscle hard to the touch beneath his t-shirt. He freezes and his eyes flicker to my palm.

  “Thank you, Xan. For being good about this.”

  He leans into my touch and I want to step in closer. The magnetism of his body lures me in but I fight hard to let my hand fall.

  “Of course. But I have to ask...Now what?”

  The heavy sigh is mine to bear this time.

  “I don’t know.”

  The meaning behind the words hangs between us like fog. Everything we’ve ever believed about each other had been a lie. And not a small fib or a simple
misunderstanding. An fully orchestrated life altering lie.

  His fists curl at his sides and a handsome scowl settles on his dark features. This is his thinking scowl as I used to call it. Anytime he thought about something that pissed him off this exact expression appeared. Then I would crawl into his lap and take his face in my hands, forcing eye contact.

  The moment we were locked on each other it would all wash away, and he’d be back to himself cocky grins and hard kisses.

  This time I duck into his line of sight, keeping my hands to myself, but it doesn’t change anything. He’s angry and I’m about to ask him why when he steps up to me, towering over me like he always did.

  “Why would they do this to us, Briggs?”

  My bottom lip quivers slightly as it hangs open. The question is one that has been weighing my head down with heavy frustration since the moment I realized Xan didn’t know about Millie.

  “I don’t know,” I answer.

  And I really don’t.

  Chapter Eight

  BRIGGS

  The porch swing creaks quietly as I tuck my knees to my chest, sip coffee and scroll through my Instagram feed in the early morning sun. Millie tosses a baseball into the air. The soft thwack of the ball landing in her glove is repetitive but soothing. Until last night I never thought much about her attraction to the sport. I catch with her and take her to batting practices but the way her face lit up when Xan talked about his old teammates, I’ve never really thought about how much it would mean to her to belong to a team.

  Our life isn’t set up for team sports. We live in a motorhome and chase the warm weather all over North America. My business is booming, and the demand is high. I manage my public image in such a way that the mystery and exclusivity of Wild & Free Designs keeps it in the public eye. The fact that I post pictures of my travels and how I source material for my jewelry nestles me in this perfect little niche market of adventurous women who also love fashion.

  None of this was done on purpose. I didn’t mean to become an Instagram Influencer. It was as surprising to me as anyone else. My aunt told me to get a hobby when I was pregnant so I could quit smoking—something to do with my hands that was intricate. She took up knitting. I went with threading tiny necklace chains around rocks I’d polished from the creek behind her Surrey property.