Igniting the Flame (The Ignited Girl Series Book 2)

by EJ Everette

  Kicking through the rubble at my feet I scream and curse as loud as my lungs can manage, not caring who can hear me or how the neighbors will react. I don’t know if it is pain, grief, anger, guilt, confusion, stress, or a cocktail of them all but it’s loud and viscous as it leaves my body through the roaring of my voice. My body collapses to the ground, burnt wood and debris digging into my legs but I can’t bring myself to care enough to notice them or move. Tears fall freely from my face, burning hot as they hit my bare legs and arms. None of this makes any sense. What about me is so goddamn special that so many people have to suffer because of my existence? Why am I cursed? Why do the people who love me end up hurt? Dead?

  Curled into myself, my long hair falling like a curtain around my face, arms, and legs, I don’t see his approach. Quietly, as if he just appeared out of thin air, Rip wraps me in his arms, tugging me into his chest. I knew it was him watching us today, but they never come close. They never speak to me, respectfully giving me the space I asked for. A small part of me remembers I am angry with them, betrayed by my friends, but the gaping hole eating away at my chest keeps me from feeling anything but despair right now.

  “Shhh, princess.” His deep voice stays low, like a whisper, as he holds me. He makes no attempt to move me or force me to look at him. He just wraps his strong arms around me in a tight embrace, his spicy cologne and fresh cotton-like scent surrounding me while I come apart.

  “I’ve got you. Just let it go. Let it all go.”

  We sit like this, in the middle of the ruins of my home, for an eternity as my heart unleashes all the agony it’s been holding inside. Rip never complains, never shifts, never moves to get me to stand or talk. He occasionally rubs his rough hands up and down my arms or back, providing sympathy for my suffering through physical touch. Having him so close eases the strain I have been desperately ignoring in my chest. I wonder if the guys feel it like I do. I wonder if they each ache to be close to me like I want to be near them. My mind and body constantly fight over this exact thing. The more I learn about my true self, my past and my future, the less I want anyone else involved in it.

  Eventually, my mind snaps back to reality. Charlie. He is here, likely having just heard my screams of pain. I promised to be stronger for him yet here I sit, allowing myself to crumble like the remains of the house surrounding me. Shit! The moment I stir, Rip releases me. I swear I feel his lips against the back of my head before he stands, but I can’t tell for sure. Holding a hand down to help me up, he remains quiet, his eyes staring into me searching for something. I allow him to help me to my feet before I begin dusting my legs off, the burnt wood having left deep indents in my skin from prolonged pressure. Knowing I need to say something, anything, I lift my eyes to meet his, but he isn’t there any more. I breathe heavily, my eyes roaming around the yard in search of some evidence he was actually here but I don’t see him at all. The only sign he is nearby still is the ease within my chest that would not be present if he had actually left. Still, his absence is more confusing than anything. Why would he come and hold me, comfort me, just to disappear? Surely he would expect something from me now, even if it was just a thank you?

  Walking towards the back yard, my mind dwells on the guys of its own accord. I can’t wrap my head around why Rip would even bother to hold me when I have been pushing them all away. What was in it for him? I am their responsibility, sure. They are required to keep me safe or whatever. But that doesn’t mean they are responsible for my feelings. For making me feel safe. I am a burden to them. A full-time life-changing babysitting job. Right? Ugh. Why do they do this shit to me? They make me feel things, want to be near them, when I know trusting them is dangerous! Allowing someone else to control me has brought me enough ruin in my life. Never again will I knowingly give someone that power over me. And yet… There is something about the guys. Regardless of my own feelings, I know I can trust them. Mom told me I could. In her letter. I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days. She specifically said guardians would come for me and to trust them and my heart. Even Petra seems pleased the guys are around, sharing their knowledge with me of my destiny. So what is holding me back, really?

  The answer is like a gong, loud and violent, pounding through my head. Trauma.

  Gut-wrenching, intense, scarring, fucked up trauma. Can I get past that? Can I risk bringing the walls down, even just a little, to let them in? So far they have been nothing but amazing. Well, if you can forget the manipulation and deceit but even that had a purpose, I guess. They’ve each helped me, made me feel seen, handled me with care and driven me absolutely mad. Rip not only comforted me just now, but he spent an entire weekend helping me with school work. Mitch took care of Grams’ beater for me and made sure I had rides to and from school. Reid never fails to make me laugh, even when the world is getting the best of me sometimes. Dean saw the pain in my soul, a pain that mirrors his own, and still shared his strength with me. Shit, even moody broody Chance has sparked something in me. He was there when the fire was destroying everything good in my life and he didn’t leave my side. He held me.

  Oof. Boys are so frustrating! I finally reach the treehouse, grateful it ended up safe, untouched by the fire. Taking the ladder up, I look again to where the house stood just a few weeks ago. You have to pull it together, Gray. My sob, so desperate to express itself, remains stuck in my throat as I work to suppress it. Charlie needs me at my strongest, especially after undoubtedly hearing my screams earlier. I have to hold the tears at bay, now. My head pops up through the floor of the treehouse and I instantly spot my brother. He sits at his desk in his usual seat. Countless nights I came out here to get him when Grams had dinner ready. So many times I had to pry him from his comic sketches, his writing, and his escape in this space. I hate that he is losing this. I hate it with all I have. This is where he finally found himself. He found an outlet for his pain and now he has to leave it behind. The only solace I can bring for him is the new information Petra has given me about his guardianship.

  “Hey Char.” Making sure to keep my voice steady and soft so as not to startle him or let on to how much I feel his misery mixed in with mine, I get nothing more than a slight head tilt from him in response. I climb the rest of the way into the treehouse, remembering the last time I was in here, surrounded by all of the guys and Leanne, when we got the call about Tanner. It feels like ages ago instead of weeks. I had seen Charlie light up that day. Between Mitch and Rip chatting with him about his sketches and storyline, he had looked like a kid again for just a little while. Another thing I owe the guys. I didn’t hear too much, but I know they were strong for Charlie when I couldn’t be after the incident. That wasn’t part of babysitting me, either. More and more I am starting to think I have greatly misjudged them all, the ache in my chest having nothing to do with distance and everything to do with more guilt eating at me.

  Pushing thoughts of the guys and all the reconciling I may have to do aside, I scoot over to sit next to Charlie at his desk. For a while, neither of us talk. He is busy sketching something and I sit on the floor leaning my head against his desk with my legs pulled into my chest, arms wrapped around them as if the position will help me hold in all the bad things that have happened lately. The small desk moves each time he erases, frustrated breaths leaving him in huffs, but I just sit still, letting him be.

  “What will happen to it?” His voice holds uncertainty coupled with the ache of so much loss.

  “I was actually hoping to talk about that while we are here. I have some news.”

  Charlie nods his head a few times but continues to sketch away for a few more minutes. When he is either pleased with his results or simply resigned to redoing it all later, he pushes back from his space a little before pulling himself out of his chair to join me on the floor. He doesn’t say anything but that’s not new. It’s time for me to talk, anyway. I scoot closer to him so our legs touch, providing the small amount of comfort he allows me to, before I give him the news.

>   Now if I could just figure out where to start…

  “You know how I met with Petra this morning?” He nods his head, yes. “She and I went to take care of all the paperwork and legal stuff according to what Grams left in her will.” I feel him clench his body up for just a second before he seems to lock the emotion away and relaxes back into himself again. The life he has led to feel like this is the only way to deal with heartbreak is possibly the most devastating reality I have had to accept in the last few weeks.

  “I’m just going to get to the main point. It turns out my birth certificate was wrong. I am not turning eighteen this year.” I wait for him to react, but he doesn’t, firmly locked into his emotionless place like a professional. Something we both have in common when we need it. Might as well just lay it all out then.

  “I was born two years earlier. In a few months, I will be twenty. Petra took me today to get new copies made of all of my legal shit, including a new driver’s license with my adjusted birthdate on it. I withdrew from school, too. I have to take some tests to get my diploma, but I don’t have to go back to classes. Do you get what this means?” In some ways, my kid brother is anything but a kid. He has lived a thousand lives in his twelve years. In other ways, he has been sheltered from reality. He looks at me in confusion to show me he isn’t connecting the dots on his own. Here goes nothing.

  “It means I don’t have to go back to school. It means I am a legal adult. That I can get my own place to live. A place for us.”

  I see the exact second Charlie realizes he doesn’t have to go back into a home with a stranger. The moment he understands that we get to be together. That it's over. He doesn’t have to be afraid. He is safe and he gets to stay with me. For good. Tears fill both of our eyes as we stare at each other. After so many years in anguish, I can finally do what I always wished I could. Protect him. It only takes a moment for him to collapse, the tears flooding his cheeks, dripping excess down his face and onto his clothes. Whereas my earlier blubbering was for grief and pain, Charlie’s body convulses in my arms with tears of relief. There are simply no words for the severe mental and physical pain my little brother has gone through. I cry alongside him though I keep myself quiet, allowing him to break in a safe place where he feels protected. I will always protect him.

  After his shaking subsides, the small gasps for air between sobs slow, and he regains control over his breathing, my sweet kid brother brings his head up to look at me. With all my strength I pray he sees safety, love, and everything I would do to save him in my eyes. I pray he can see my determination and my happiness that we don’t have to be separated ever again. That it's just us now, but at least we are together.

  I ease away from him, knowing it is hard for him to accept any physical comfort usually, and he sits up a little straighter, the hardened years of his life causing him to have much more resilience than most adult men.

  “Do I get to bring the treehouse?” His question surprises me and as much as I wish I could make that promise for him, I don’t have the answer to that yet.

  “I have to find a place for us, first. No one is going to take it from here because Grams owned all of this land so technically it is now ours. Petra mentioned building a new house here, but I don’t know if that’s the best option for us. I don’t know if we could…” Charlie looks at me and I know he gets it. He understands why I am hesitant. This was Grams’ home. This is where we spent time as young children with our parents. This is where we found a safe haven, a new day, after years of endless night. And this is where Grams died. This is where Charlie died, even if just for a moment. So many memories stabbed, slashed, and left to bleed after so much loss.

  “It’s okay. We can find someplace else. I know you will take care of us.” He leans his head onto my shoulder for a few minutes, his belief in me more motivating than anything I have ever experienced.

  “You’re right, bud. We will find someplace. Together. But for now, let’s grab some of your stuff and head back to Le’s. Mrs. Sweeten said something about dinner and I don’t know about you but I am starving.” I make a show of rubbing my stomach and screwing my face up to show my hunger pains, getting the slightest hint of a smile from him. Worth it! We gather up some of this work and a few of the shirts and things he has left in here over the years. I grab a ballcap my dad had given me just days before Mom’s death and his subsequent abandonment. I have very few things I have kept from the early years, mostly because anything precious to me had been stolen at one point or another between homes. For whatever reason, I have managed to keep this hat through it all, though. I choose to avoid reading into the sentimental value I feel toward it as we take turns lowering things down from the treehouse.

  After we arrive back at Leanne’s house, Charlie and I carry the box we had filled with his things into the house. After the emotional overload of the day, I am not surprised when he asks Mrs. Sweeten if he can just eat in his room, claiming he is just really tired and doesn’t want to fall asleep at the table. I see the knowing gaze she shoots his way indicating she is more than aware there is more to the story, but she lets it slide and agrees. He gives me a quick glance before heading upstairs for the night, off to his quiet space away from everyone to process. I envy him a bit as I sit through dinner with Leanne and her family. We idly chat about how my day went with the lawyer (what we referred to Petra as since Le’s parents have no idea about her connection to me or my Grams). I thought about sharing the news with them of my age, explaining that we wouldn’t need to stay with them much longer, but there has already been enough sharing of revelations for me today.

  Leanne and I help clean up after dinner while her Mom puts a movie on in the living area. She invited us girls in to watch an older romance movie with her but my mind was going a bazillion miles a minute and I knew only one thing would help me. I run upstairs to change before coming back down in my running gear. I let Mrs. S. know I am going for a run and invite Le. The look she gives me says she would rather endure a hundred tiny lasers burning into her skin for the next three days straight than willingly go for a run so I wave to them as they sit down for their movie. Slipping my earplugs in, I start my stretches on the front porch. It has been too long since I have gone for a good run and since I have basically healed myself already, it is time to get my body back in motion. I always feel so much better, more centered, after a run.

  I start off jogging, testing out just how much my body has truly recovered, before opening up into a full run. My legs cover more ground like this and soon I am flying down the street of Le’s neighborhood, turning at the intersection, and heading away from the suburban area. I can feel my companion, Chance is yet again with me making me wonder what happened to Rip after our moment earlier, but I slow down for no one and I can only hope Chance can keep up. It is almost completely dark out, but the street lights extend out as far as I can see, lighting the way just enough for me to feel safe as I run

  Okay, Gray, time to think. Let’s process all of this mess with the guys. Like a pros and cons list. Starting with the cons, of course. First, they lied to me. I get why they had to, mostly. But, they just showed up and made me feel things that I thought were genuine in nature, just to be holding back secrets from me. Worse yet, their lies kept me in the dark and I might have been able to save Grams, be there with her when things happened, if I had been better prepared. Deception is a hard no-go for me, especially with my background.

  Secondly, they are significantly older than I am. I mean, not that I am against older men, but from the sounds of it, they are decades older than they look. Decades older than me. How weird is that? Hmm, what else? Oh yeah, they have power over me. That’s another hard pass for me. No matter how kind they have been, how good their intentions may be, they are destined or whatever they called it to take care of me. I am basically bound to them, giving them a power over me I cannot allow. No one should own another, in any sense.

  I turn down a side road, the sidewalk no longer present but the street li
ghts are still staggered ahead of me. My shoes hit the pavement below me, the impact moving through my body sending delicious vibrations of pain through my body. The burn is one of the reasons I run. It’s like a cleanse to my system, flames licking my body, destroying the impurities that punish and attack my mind. It feels more like Hell but is my own perfect little dose of Heaven.

  Okay, pros time. Let’s see… they have never hurt me. Matter of fact, they have gone out of their way to protect me and those around me. Reid and Dean ran into that burning house of flames to try to save my Grams. They all stayed by my side in the hospital, looking after Charlie and me. Guardians actually seems like a pretty fitting name for them, come to think of it, though god-squad is still ranking up there for their softball team name. Oh that should be a pro, right? They are nice to look at. Though there is only a friendship between us, obviously, it doesn’t hurt that the men I am bound to for all eternity are hot as fuck and don’t really age. Right?

  I notice a few lights ahead of me are flickering. Like four or five in a row all seem to have trouble staying lit on both sides of the road. That’s weird. Maybe there is a shortage of some type up there? I guess that would cause both sides to have some connection issues or something. Ugh, an electrician I am not. I slow my pace as I prepare to turn around and head back the other way to avoid the flickering lights. Right before I get to the first one, I turn.