Page 72 of Faking It with the Firefighter

When had Donny reciprocated? When hadanyonereciprocated?

The only person who had stood up for me was Abigail, and she’d done it by pushing me to look after myself. She made me feel loved, and she never asked more of me than what I wanted to give.

It made me want to give her everything.

A wedding. A life in a beautiful home. All the takeout her impulsive heart desired. Popcorn in every cabinet. Hell, I’d live with a dozen Winstons if that’s what she wanted.

She was the spark to my flame. The fire that burned within me. The…

Was thatsmoke I smelled?

Murmurs danced through the audience, and I scanned the area, looking for the source of the smell. There hadn’t been a controlled burn planned for this weekend; I would’ve known, and the skies were clear.

Was it a campfire? No, a campfire wouldn’t smell so strong.

Then one of the bridesmaids screamed. “Fire!”

Familiar adrenaline began to pump. I followed the bridesmaid’s pointed finger toward Abigail’s back fence, where a column of smoke began its flight toward the heavens. Flames licked the top of the fence just beside the gate…at the exact position where Abigail’s overfull, unturned compost bin sat, full to the brim of too much green matter and not enough brown. Too many food scraps, not enough dried leaves and cardboard. My one mowing job wouldn’t have helped; grass clippings would have only added to what Abigail had been chucking in there for months.

I should’ve dealt with that when I had the chance, tux or no tux.

With a lowwhoosh, a tree overhanging Abigail’s yard went up in flames. A foot to the left of it, the arbor at the entrance to the wedding aisle fluttered in the breeze, all those bunches of gauzy fabric and dried flowers waiting to be consumed.

Time turned sluggish. My heart rate seemed to slow, but I knew that was just the adrenaline. Distantly, I heard screams. The ear-piercing shriek of Blair’s panic. The low hubbub of the crowd. The clatter of folding chairs falling to the ground.

This was bad. We had minutes to get clear.

As if some malignant force wanted to laugh at my misfortune, a strong gust of wind blasted against my face. All it would’ve taken was a spark, but the universe gave us dozens.Little red embers flew through the air and landed on that beautiful, artful, combustible arbor.

It took seconds that seemed to last an eternity, and then all that careful arranging and pinning and prepping Abigail and the ladies had done yesterday was consumed with dancing flames.

Then the linen aisle runner caught. Time snapped back to normal speed.

Holy shit. Donny’s wedding was on fire.

“Fire!” I screamed and charged toward it. “Everyone back away!” I looked at the woman I loved. “Abigail! Get clear!”

The ground was dry, and if I didn’t do something soon, this could get really bad. I grabbed my phone and called it in, rattling off Abigail’s address and the location, making sure to let the boys on duty know where the nearest fire hydrant was in proximity to the house. It wasn’t far. But conditions were dry and windy, and I wasn’t sure we had the time. Abigail’s old, beat-up garden hose would have to do until reinforcements arrived.

As I ran for the fence, I caught a glimpse of Abigail running past me. She sped up when she approached the fence, grabbing onto the top of it and vaulting into her backyard.

“Abigail, get out of there!”

“We need to put out the fire!” she screamed back as I pulled myself over the fence.

I landed on soft feet and followed her toward the house. Abigail disappeared inside. Considering it was her fence that was up in flames, that was not what I meant by somewhere safe.

“Abigail!” I called, then gave up and raced for the spigot. I turned it up as high as possible, grabbed the end of the hose, andran toward the fence with the sprayer. Water spewed out of it only to stop after a second, then dribbled in a pathetic stream.

What the hell?

I looked back. The hose was all kinked up. Shit. We didn’t have time for this.

“It’s okay! I got it!” Donny yelled, heading for the spigot before diving for the hose.

I stared at my brother in shock. The old him would’ve run the other way at the sight of danger. He would’ve been more worried about himself and the impact on his football career. But Donny’s face was set in determined lines. He picked up the mess of green hosing and got to work.

I couldn’t help the rush of pride that washed over me. Donny looked up when he unkinked the last knot, then turned the spigot back up to full blast. I nodded at him. He nodded at me. Then I pulled the trigger on the sprayer.

---