Chapter Twenty-Six
Abbi had to take her bandages off. They were getting in the way as she typed her report. She was propped up on her couch with her laptop on her lap. She’d barely moved from this position since she’d been released from the hospital with the promise that she’d change her bandages regularly and wouldn’t overexert herself.
Stupid promises.
Staying home would make her lose her mind any day. Staying home nursing her wounds was even worse.
Staying home, nursing her wounds, and thinking about the look in Tyler’s eyes as she lied to him about what “cash” meant and he closed the door on her?
That was enough to make her want to tear out of there, grab her boots, and run up the peak of Gold Mountain until she collapsed, so she didn’t have to think anymore.
Instead, she brewed enough coffee for an entire office and got to work.
She’d heard the news about Russ’s arrest from her friends. But as far as she knew, Tyler was still working to use the fire as the excuse he needed to push the firebreak through in the final two weeks before he left. Just thinking about him made her want to curl up into a ball and use her time at home as an excuse not to deal with a single fucking thing.
But she’d almost died because of this firebreak. And she’d lost the only chance at love she’d had in a long, long time. There was no way she was going to have made those sacrifices for nothing. She had to kill the project completely. It was the only way to know the ache in her arms and the burn in her heart hadn’t been for nothing.
The doorbell rang.
“It’s open,” she yelled without taking her eyes off the screen.
Her friends had been coming in and out so often, she’d stopped locking the door when she was still too weak to get up every time someone came by with another casserole or pitcher of lemonade.
It turned out that if you were almost burned alive in a sort of, almost, still-to-be-determined-by-a-judge arson by your ex-boyfriend and then dumped in the hospital by your sort of, almost, can’t-believe-you’d-seen-yourself-falling-for-him new boyfriend, lots of people wanted to make sure you weren’t doing exactly what Abbi was up to. Which was not eating properly, not getting enough sleep, taking off her bandages, and working way too hard.
“Knock knock,” came a voice, and Sam pushed open the door with her hip, her hands full of groceries.
“Not more food,” Abbi groaned.
The nature center had sent over giant platters. Her friends had been bringing her groceries for days. Even her mother had decided that, while convalescing from smoke inhalation wasn’t severe enough to warrant an actual, in-person visit, Abbi needed flowers, fruit baskets, and cheese and cracker assortments with caviar, which she knew Abbi hated.
Her siblings had chipped in on a huge Amazon gift card for her Kindle, which was nice, but what did they think—that she was going to sit around all day in her jammies and do nothing but read? Had they even met her before?
“Come on,” Sam said. “Don’t be so hard to take care of.”
“Yeah,” another voice chimed in. “You’re making it difficult for us to smother you. Can’t you think about how we feel for a change?” Mack laughed as she and Claire came in after Sam, carrying even more bags of food.
“Let us do something for you,” Claire said, more gently than Mack.
“I told you,” Abbi said. “I’m fine. I can’t wait to get back to work.”
“You’re not allowed to set foot in the nature center for another week,” Sam reminded her. “Doctor’s orders.”
“And we told everyone there to call us if you so much as stick a toe in your office. I mean it. Don’t think we won’t tackle you to the ground to drag you out of there,” Mack said.
Abbi laughed, despite herself. “I’m glad to know you wouldn’t treat me too delicately. But seriously, guys. You don’t need to take care of me.”
“And you need to learn how to accept help more graciously.” Claire came and kissed her forehead hello. “What are you working on?” She looked over Abbi’s shoulder and gasped. “And what are your bandages doing protecting the couch?”
Claire was a massage therapist and always taking care of other people. She’d tried to help change Abbi’s bandages, keep her hydrated, and check in to see if she needed anything. But Abbi was being a notoriously bad patient.
“You know, some people like to be pampered,” Claire had said when Abbi, shocked and embarrassed, had found Claire trying to do her laundry.
“Good,” Abbi had snapped. “Then you can go pamper them and leave me alone.”
She felt bad for how she’d lashed out at her friends when she’d first come home, hurt and angry over her injuries and the gaping hole in her heart. She was trying to be nicer now, so she closed the laptop and sighed, accepting that for the next hour or so, she’d have to play the part of the good patient to her overzealous friends.
“They were getting in the way,” she said. “Anyway, the doctor said oxygen is good for the wounds. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal if you’re not taking care of yourself,” Claire said, at the same time Mack asked, “Getting in the way of what?”
“I’m following up on the report to the Forest Service. I have to get an endangered species petition approved if I really want to stop this thing for good.”
Sam, who’d been putting groceries away, closed the fridge and frowned. “You’re being even more of a workaholic than I am, Abbi. Let me talk to the Forest Service guys and do what I can to keep things stalled. You should be relaxing right now.”
“I’m very relaxed,” Abbi said as her jaw clenched.
“And a terrible actress. Are you sure this is all about the firebreak and not…say…the fact that you recently broke up with someone who actually meant something to you?”
Abbi blew hair out of her face. The dye had worn off and she hadn’t been able to fix it. She was back to being plain, ordinary Abbi, the mouse who’d spent hours after school in her history teacher’s office, because he was the one nice person who didn’t ask her why she didn’t try out for the school musical, or play any sports, and how come she wasn’t more like her siblings, they’d been so good at everything they tried.
She hated being that person.
And she hated that her friends wouldn’t leave her alone.
“I’m tired,” she said, looking at the magazines on her coffee table. “I’m supposed to be sleeping. Thanks for the groceries, but I think you guys should go.”
“Bullshit,” Mack said. “I’m not leaving.”
“Me neither.” Claire plopped down on the couch next to Abbi.
“Anyone want iced tea?” Sam asked, and went to get them all glasses.
“Great,” Abbi said sarcastically. “You can all watch me typing and then tell me everything I’m doing wrong at work and as a patient. Oh yeah, and in my nonexistent love life, too.”
“That’s not what we mean,” Claire said.
“Although you are a terrible patient,” Mack interjected, and Claire threw a pillow at her.
“You’re not helping,” Claire said.
“I’m just being honest.” Mack took the pillow and stuffed it behind her head, sinking into the couch and getting comfortable. It looked like she was planning on being here for a while. Abbi tried to contain her irritation. Why was it so hard to be miserable in private?
“So,” Mack said once Sam had set down the glasses and taken her seat. “Tyler. How are you feeling?”
“This has nothing to do with him,” Abbi said. “I just have a lot to catch up on.”
“Abbi, I’ve never seen you this upset over a guy,” Claire said.
“Who says I’m upset? I was in a fire. I’m home from work when there’s a ton of shit going on, my ex-boyfriend is probably going to jail, my parents have just proven they know how to use a credit card but can’t even get in the goddamn car and come see me, my sister suggested I should have been able to run faster and must have let myself get burned so I could have the attention from Mom, and yeah, so the guy I was fucking walked out on me while I was in the hospital but that’s not the only thing I have to be upset about. Okay?”
She took a deep breath. Damn. Looked like she did have a lot on her mind.
“What I want to know is why Tyler would leave you right after saving your life,” Claire said. “He seemed like a really good guy.”
“And fucking hot,” Mack added.
That managed to get a smile from Abbi. “I’m telling Connor you said that,” she said.
“Please.” Mack rolled her eyes. “I’m in love, not dead.”
“You in love with Connor is still the craziest thing that’s ever happened in this town.” Abbi was happy for her friend. Seeing Mack wind up with the man who’d always driven her crazy was almost too perfect to be true. But sometimes Abbi felt like she was being left behind. Sam was married, Mack was going to be, Claire was busy taking care of her daughter… Who did Abbi have?
Men who set fires, and men who left.
Mack shook her head. “It’s not as crazy as you finding this gorgeous, funny, kind, strong, and did I mention gorgeous man who’s ass over teakettle for you, who can actually put up with the fact that most of the time you’re covered in leaves or whatever the hell you do out in the woods, can probably hike just as fast as you, literally risks his life for you, had to be physically removed from the ward by the nurses because he was hovering over your bed so damn much—and then you letting him go.”
“But that’s just it,” Abbi said, Mack’s words cutting into her all over again. “The way you’ve described him, the way you’ve described us, it’s like I don’t even exist. I’m the helpless one, the one who has to be saved. The one in danger. The one in the hospital. The one Tyler’s always supposed to be taking care of. I’m sorry, but that’s not any kind of relationship I want to be in. And in case you haven’t noticed,” she went on before anyone could interrupt, “I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere. Tyler hasn’t called. He hasn’t once come by to see me.”
“Um. Maybe because you made it clear you didn’t want him to?” Mack ventured.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. This was his summer interlude to get his head screwed on, and in two weeks he’ll be on his way. While I, the sad sack he’s supposed to be so good at taking care of, will still be figuring out what the hell to do with those crackers that taste like cardboard that my mom sent.”
Sam leaned forward. “What do you mean, get his head screwed on?”
Abbi waved a hand. “It’s complicated. I didn’t even find out until way too far into things. His best friend was this guy Scott who died in a fire this spring.”
Mack sputtered. Sam cursed. Claire’s eyes went soft as she reached out a hand.
“It happened in June,” Abbi explained. “They were fighting a blaze together in the San Gabriels and Tyler feels totally responsible. It’s why he left L.A. and is trying to find another job that’s nowhere near there. Lucky me, I got to be his do-dumb-things-when-you’re-grieving fling.”
“You’re not a dumb thing,” Claire said.
Abbi shrugged. “He got to replay the fantasy he never got to have with Scott. Save the person. Ease his conscience. Move on to some new life with an easy desk job and a little less weight on his chest.”
“You’re acting like there was only one dynamic to your relationship,” Claire said.
“Fake relationship,” Abbi corrected. “Let’s not take things too far.”
“It doesn’t matter how it started. I’m not even going to tell you how I met Maya’s dad.”
“And you know how long it took Connor and me to get together,” Mack said.
“And let’s not forget about Austin and me,” Sam said, rolling her eyes with a blush.
“Men are idiots,” Claire said. “And you, Abbi, are also an idiot.”
“Where’s my pillow to throw at you?” Abbi asked, looking around as Mack snatched the closest pillow out of Abbi’s reach.
“I’m serious, Abs. It’s where your relationship goes that matters, not whatever fucked-up way it begins. You can have the most perfect date with someone and find out they’re married with kids. You can bump into someone on the sidewalk, spill their groceries everywhere, and guess who winds up being the love of your life. Tyler didn’t save your life as some kind of penance, or because he’s a firefighter and was fulfilling his civic obligations. He could have rescued you without going so completely crazy over finding you and making sure you were safe.”
“That’s your argument?” Abbi said, staring at her friend. “He’s crazy, therefore he loves you, therefore you should love him back?”
“I’m not arguing, Abbi. My point is that love isn’t something we say. It’s something we do. It’s an action. A verb. A way of being.”
“Wow,” Mack said. “You should write that down.”
“I’m serious.” Claire looked defensive. “I know you think I don’t know anything about love, given that I’m the single lady with no clue where her kid’s dad is. But once upon a time, I loved Ryan more than anything I thought possible. And I know he loved me. It wasn’t that he took care of me. We took care of each other. Something you don’t always see a whole lot of from people who are supposedly in love.”
“I wish I got to meet this guy.” Mack talked about Claire’s ex with far more wistfulness than Claire ever seemed to muster.
“I don’t,” Claire said matter-of-factly. “I don’t need Ryan back in my life. But I’m grateful to him for a few things. Maya, first and foremost. But also that for a time in my life, when I was way too young to know how fleeting and special it is, I got to love someone and experience being loved in return.”
“Which is why you should know it’s not worth it with the wrong person,” Abbi said, happy Claire no longer talked about her mystery ex with tears in her eyes but also wishing this whole line of conversation would stop. Tyler only wanted to finish the firebreak and then leave. What was the point of rehashing what might have been?
“Tyler showed you he loves you, Abbi. That doesn’t make him crazy. You letting yourself be cared for—whether it’s from friends bringing you groceries or a boyfriend dragging you from a wildfire burning all around you—none of those things make you weak.”
“Losing to me in poker after the bar closes, on the other hand…” Mack mused, and this time Abbi did get her hands on a pillow to throw at her.
“I don’t want him to do that thing where he saves me and thinks I owe him,” Abbi said. “Or he saves me because he thinks I can’t take care of myself.” She paused, the words small inside her but still pushing out. “Or I think he’s kind, I think he cares about me, and it turns out it’s all just…part of some agenda.” Secure his job, get the firebreak, make himself feel like the big man in charge.
“Or maybe there’s no agenda,” Claire said. “Maybe he’s trying to figure out what he wants, too.”
Abbi swallowed. Did Tyler want to be with her…or did he just want to move on? Was he looking for a girlfriend…or someone to rely on him and make him feel useful while he worked through his grief?
And what about her? What did she want?
She looked down at her bandaged hands and said, “I just keep thinking, what if there’s something about me? What if I only attract one type of person? And then what if some part of me secretly likes it, if that’s who I keep going for?”
Claire slid over and put her arm gently around Abbi’s shoulder. “What Cash did to you was so, so unfair. He took advantage of his authority. He took advantage of you. But the part that’s even more not okay is that he changed the way you got to experience falling in love. Having real relationships. Having ups and downs with people you can meet on even ground. It doesn’t mean you’re broken, Abbi. It just means trusting people to love you for real is hard.”
“But I wasn’t some unwilling participant,” Abbi said, tears smarting her eyes. “It wasn’t like he did this thing to me. I—I wanted it, you know? In some crazy, fucked-up way I let it happen, and I let it go on.”
She’d told her friends about Cash. It was one of those late night things that came out when she finally trusted that this was her home and these people were going to be her family.
But she’d never said it like this, like it wasn’t just something that happened when she was a kid that she was totally over…but like it was something that hurt.
Mack cracked an ice cube between her teeth so loudly Abbi was afraid she was going to break her jaw. Mack knew a thing or two about adults not taking care of kids in the ways they were supposed to.
“It’s still not your fault,” Mack said once she could contain herself. “And it still doesn’t mean he’s not a monster.”
“And it doesn’t mean that just because someone looks out for you, they’re after something,” Sam added.
“But how are you supposed to know the difference?” Abbi’s voice broke over all she was admitting. Every cruel thing Tyler had said to her was true. She didn’t know how to be in a relationship. She didn’t know how to let herself be loved. She had to be so right about everything, she couldn’t even stop to let anyone in and see her mistakes.
“I think step one is not keeping a tally of who owes what,” Mack said.
“And then you can think about how it feels to be cared for by that person,” Claire said. “It shouldn’t feel stifling. Or overbearing. It should feel nice.” She paused. “It should feel safe.”
That word. It hit Abbi not like the whoosh of a column of fire bearing down. But slowly, the simmering embers of it just beginning inside her. Starting to glow. Starting to warm. Safe.
Did she even know what it meant? What it would look like, feel like, to live that way?
“I think I’ve always gone for these guys who made me feel the exact opposite of what you’re talking about. Someone like Russ.”
She cringed as she said his name, but the truth was that for half a second, she’d been into him. Or rather, she’d been into doing something she knew she shouldn’t. A giant fuck you to everyone who’d fretted over the Big Scary Thing that had happened to her when she was young. A way to show she was fine, she wasn’t a victim, she hadn’t really been hurt.
“Oh, totally.” Claire laughed. “There’s a thrill to dating someone who seems…” She bit her lip, maybe not wanting to go there.
But Mack had no problem being direct. “Scary,” she said. “Really fucking scary. Like the kind of guy who’d, I don’t know, turn out to be an arsonist?”
“He didn’t intentionally set the fire,” Abbi nitpicked.
“Yeah, but he also didn’t put it out when he could have,” Claire reminded her. “He made a split-second, selfish decision to do something dangerous, damn the consequences. I think the point is that it’s a certain type of person who’s not particularly careful, who’ll jump in no matter what. And some of that is sexy—”
“And some of that is downright stupid. Yeah, I know,” Abbi said. “I get it.”
She wanted to point out that Tyler had jumped into the fire despite the risk. But she knew that was different. He hadn’t been thinking about himself or how he’d be rewarded. He’d only been thinking of her.
Not of what she’d do for him in return. But of how to help. Of the right thing to do.
She thought about being in his arms. The way he’d lifted her up to his bedroom. How he’d carried her out of the burning forest. She could sense the press of his body that could have been a memory or could have simply been the way she imagined it must have felt to have been held by him. To know he was there, no matter what. That it was okay to let herself be taken care of sometimes. That she was finally—that word again—safe.
“Tyler doesn’t have a scary bone in his body,” she said. “He’s exciting, but in a different way.”
Claire nodded. “It’s a different feeling, isn’t it?”
Abbi thought about it carefully. Something was flooding her, filling her, so that she no longer felt the pain of the burns or the weight of everything that had gone wrong. She thought not about Tyler building the firebreak, or Tyler escaping his tragedy. She thought simply about the man, sun in his hair, muscles flexing as he bounded up a trail. His sleepy smile in the morning. She thought her heart might crack right then and there if she never got to see that grin again.
“You guys.” She shook her head. “How are you even supposed to know what love feels like, that it’s love and not something else, like indigestion?” They laughed. “Or fear speaking. Or a need for security. Loneliness. A desire to have someone to play house with. You know, all those mistakes people make.”
“I honestly don’t know,” Mack said. “You know how long it took me to realize that thing I felt for Connor was love and not the overwhelming desire to hit him over the head with a saucepan.”
“Exactly. That the urge to throttle him wasn’t really an urge to throttle him.”
“It was an urge to jump his bones.” Claire grinned.
“So what if I’ve been sort of the opposite, and I’ve been thinking that thrill with guys like Cash or Russ is something that it isn’t?”
Sam had been quiet, watching them, taking it all in. But finally she spoke. “You mean what if you’ve been mistaking terror for desire your whole life?”
“Yeah,” Abbi said, her mouth dry. “Something like that.”
It was a pretty huge revelation. But it wasn’t even the craziest thing she was thinking. Tears pricked her eyes again and she swallowed, putting herself back in the moment. Back into her fear. Real fear—not the what-might-happen-next shivers when a stranger picked her up at a bar, or even the fear of what might happen if she and Cash got caught.
Fear for her life. For everything she loved.
“In that fire,” she said, “the time I was actually afraid, all I wanted was safety. And that safety was Tyler. Literally, because he’s the one who saved me. But more than that. All I could think about was wanting him. How being with him made everything right.” She paused. “And holy fuck, that was terrifying.”