Page 39 of Set Me On Fire

“Well, I’ve got a day off today and I intend to enjoy it. See you tomorrow, fellas.”

So why did the car feel empty as I drove home? Why did a strange kind of gloom settle over me as I drove up my driveway? I had a big house and a big dog waiting for me as I walked inside.

“Hey, Buster.”My golden retriever came trotting over, tail wagging like a flag, his ears flat to his head. He, at least, was glad to see me. A few sniffs, a little whine and then he was walking over to his food bowl, making clear what he needed. I smiled as I pulled out the dog food, making up his meal. Dogs were easy. You always knew where you stood with them. “Eat up, mate.” I gave his head a pat. “I’ll take you down to the beach and we’ll throw a ball around.”

His muzzle jerked up from his food bowl at the mention of the word ball, hope flaring to life in his eyes.

At least he had something to look forward to. When I went into the bedroom to strip down, I caught a whiff of her scent. My nose ran along my arm, and I imagined I could summon a trace of that floral perfume. My shirt was tossed in the wash basket along with my undies, but as I went through my pockets, I realised where the smell was coming from. The temptation to shove my nose into that ball of black lace was overwhelming,which just pissed me off more. I didn’t want to sniff her panties, be a fucking creeper.

I just wanted her.

To get to know Millie, move beyond the idea of her, and find out who she really was. Remember how she liked her coffee made or whether she preferred tea. To listen to her giggle-snorts when watching a funny movie. To connect, bind myself, know that my person was out there, walking in the world, carrying the other half of my heart around with her.

But that wasn’t going to happen. I strode across the room and into my shower, slathering on the body wash and eradicating all traces of last night, all the while wishing that I was sending the ache inside me swirling down the plughole as well.

Chapter 22

Noah

I didn’t ring Millie that day. I didn’t ring her that night or that week. Her number was a constant niggle at the back of my mind, and more times than I could count, I pulled out my phone and looked at the contact details, my thumb hovering over it. I could call, text, send her a video, something, but it was now I was forced to face an uncomfortable truth.

There was a very good reason why I’d never bothered to make contact with Millie.

It wouldn’t be hard to find her. I had social media friend requests from all sorts of people I went to school with, including those I couldn’t freaking stand. I could’ve done the same for her. Slid into her DMs, started talking about old times… But the longer I put that off, the safer I was. I could go on dates or hang out with a dream Millie whenever the hell I wanted, and she was always cool and funny and more important, receptive. In my head, she never rejected me. I stared at the phone, able to see it inside my head, how it’d go. A gentle brush off, or a not so soft one, where she made clear that she never wanted anything more than a wild night with three guys.

That it meant nothing more than scratching an itch.

But her voice, when she confessed what I was to her. I’d examined and re-examined it over and over inside my head, that taut tone. For just a moment, I could convince myself that it hurt her.

I’d hurt her.

A weird combination of shame and need had me feeling antsy, pacing back and forth, until weeks later, Knox came walking around the fire truck we were supposed to be cleaning.

“What’re you doing?”he snapped, looking at me, then my phone.

“Obsessing over some bullshit on his phone,” Henry supplied helpfully.

“What…?”

He plucked it from my grip, even as I frowned and tried to snatch it back. Knox looked at my screen, then sighed. That look of resignation, even of empathy, killed me, forcing me to take a step back. He sucked in a breath and I knew I was gonna get a bollocking. It was what he did whenever we pissed him off, but right as I was bracing myself for the onslaught, he tapped on my screen and handed the phone back to me. I stared at it in alarm, seeing the phone was ringing.

“Nut up or shut up, remember?” he said in much more gentle tones. “Rip the Band-Aid off, mate. She’ll either talk to you or she won’t, but then you’ll know.”

And then he turned and walked away. I looked at the phone like it was a live snake or something, but fuck, I faced down fires, ran into buildings that were collapsing around us. I saved people. If I could be brave then, surely I could…

“Hey, it's Millie,” a recorded voice said. “You know what to do.”

But I didn’t. I just stood there, phone to my ear, swallowing hard, because maybe that would dislodge the lump in my throat. Nope. I needed water, a Coke, something because?—

Beep. The call ended, and I was left staring at a blank screen.

Nut up or shut up. I heard Knox’s words echoing around in my head as I grabbed a sponge, scrubbing the truck down in big circles. Nut up or shut up. I remembered it when we rushed out later that day to the scene of a car crash. Cutting someone free, letting the ambulance workers do their job, the blood bright on the wreck’s dash. Cleaning off the road of debris, neutralising the fuel that had pooled out, I went through the motions, knowing exactly what to do.

And that certainty could extend to other parts of my life, I thought, when I got home for the day.

We did everything wrong. I did everything wrong, I corrected myself. From letting Millie’s brothers intimidate me, from never letting her know what happened, to falling into bed with her the first night we reconnected. I kicked my own arse for a day or two about that, but when one of the guys remarked on my shitty mood, I knew something needed to be done. Dream Millie was perfect inside my head, never complaining, always receptive, but that wasn’t a relationship. It was a delusion that kept me from moving forward.

“Have a good break,” Brent said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You catching up with family for Christmas?”

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