Page 108 of Ignite

Even if you were trying to save them from themselves.

I joined a long train of cars, driving barely above walking pace, all headed north to safety. At each t-intersection, more cars tried to push in and join. The passengers in each vehicle looked the same.

Terrified.

This wasn’t my town or my fight. No one would blame me if I kept driving. I could be back in Sydney in under three hours. If Meringa burned down, I’d be fine—out of a job—but fine. I could start again.

Three months ago, I’d have kept driving.

Two months ago, I would have tracked down Rylee and screamed at her for worrying her friends.

Who was I kidding? Rylee was an all or nothing play — without her I had nothing.

The turn-off towards the address Felicity had texted me was only a couple of hundred meters away, but traffic had stalled. More cars were pushing their way in. I’d never seen anything like it. Middle of the day with an eerie blackness, the smoke infiltrating everywhere. Each breath stung all the way down to my lungs.

This was serious.

With seconds feeling like hours, I had all the time in the world for regrets. For not appreciating my father’s sacrifice or recognizing him for the man he was with values and a moral code he’d been willing to die for. For not fighting hard enough to make doctors listen, to try one more test, or apply for one more trial—anything that would have given mum more time.

For not fighting harder to save my business while the rest of my world crumbled. Friends had offered to help, but I’d let my pride get in the way of common sense.

Then again, all roads had led to Meringa and Rylee.

Which came with a different set of regrets. Every day when we made small talk or banter, we could have been creating something real. All the nights I’d fantasized about her, but my pride had gotten in the way of turning one night into more. I could have agreed to at least think about joining the RFS next season. I could’ve bought time instead of backing myself into a stubborn corner.

Shit.

The chemistry between us had been real. I’d been more than a rebound. The work she’d put into my ute proved that.

Ethan:Nice day for a ride. Hope you’ve got a spare helmet.

Horses scared the living shit out of me.

Cars and bikes, I could control. Horses and animals, not so much. I’d tried riding once, hating the way the horse had looked me up and down, and decided I was the sum of all bad decisions. I’d sworn never to get near one again.

For Rylee, I’d even learn to love riding.

Finally, the traffic moved forward enough that I could cut up the side and turn left along the dirt path that pretended to be an unsealed road, towards Rylee.

My poor ute bumped along invisible potholes and I hoped the road would lead me to a building or structure or give me a sign that Rylee was safe. The fire hadn’t made it this far, but the thick smoke and swirling ash reduced visibility to barely ten meters.

I had no clue where to go or how far I had to drive to get there. It could have been two hundred meters or five hundred, but I barely drove faster than walking pace because of visibility and the fear of ending up in a ditch. At least every wheel turn got me closer to where I hoped she’d be. And if I didn’t run over Rylee or her horses in the process of saving her, she might actually let me be a hero.

Yeah, nah. Rylee didn’t need me to play pretend hero. She’d be the one saving both of us unless I got my head screwed on.

With relief, I avoided hitting a wooden structure that could be a barn or stables—not that I could see far enough to make it out—and saw Rylee’s truck.

Pulling up behind Rylee’s truck I swapped casual shoes for my old work boots. I hadn’t worn them in years, but they were solid leather and better protection than my canvas Vans. My thickest jeans were uncomfortable in the burning heat, but I doubted charred legs would be sexy. I still wore my training shirt, but had found a high vis jacket, again from my laboring days.

Not a complete newbie, but not dressed for the sort of blaze the radio was preparing us for.

Shit.

According to news reports on the radio, people were already in boats pushed out from the beach in Victoria. This was intense. Insane.

At least, I’d found Rylee’s truck with a horse float attached.

I dashed around, calling out for her, but the horse float was as empty as her truck.

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