Page 104 of Ignite

“You think? The girl’s as stubborn as her father.”

I wanted to laugh about her stubborn streak, but I couldn’t get past the point of their conversation. Rylee had stood up for me?

Shit.

I didn’t want to owe her my job.

My father’s words and our last fight haunted me. I’d been so angry, that his pride wouldn’t let him walk away from his union job. He’d refused to walk away from the job that had ended up killing him.

I left my untouched beer and filled up a jug with tap water. I needed a clear head before I hurled head-first into a rash decision.

Until overhearing the assholes who didn’t know me, but were happy to have an opinion, I’d been prepared to sign up and chase the girl. Now?

Damn it.

I’d made life-changing decisions based on my pride.

I’d almost been willing to turn my life upside down for a girl.

Pride or Rylee?

My pride or my girl?

Double damn it.

The decision hit me. The girl was worth more than my pride.

Shit.

I tried to see it differently, follow my usual selfish and self-centered path, but couldn’t.

It had taken guts for Rylee to chase me down. She hadn’t waited for me to finish training, before trying to correct what happened last night. How much guts had it taken to walk in and talk in front of my team? To front me with an audience of all the guys who knew about Darin’s screwing around. Realization of how humiliating would it have been to walk out hit me straight to the gut.

Damn.

I finished my water, finalized my tab, took a leak, and walked outside into the darkness.

Holy Shit.

I’d never seen anything like it. I had to check my phone for the time, to confirm it was still early afternoon.

The almost black sky with a tinge of red made me want to take photos. Except, the hurried and worried faces of locals tempered my wonder while not even pulling my shirt over my nose could protect me from the harsh burn of smoke. I felt the sting all the way from my nose, to eyes, and down my throat. We were living the saying,the air was so thick, you could almost cut it with a knife.

I could still make out my beautiful ute in the pub carpark; the black gloss hidden beneath a smear of smoke and ash. Everything else was disappearing in the thick fog. I couldn’t even see the park across the wide road.

This was serious.

Shit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

When I’d first left home this morning and waited for the florist to open, I’d expected to avoid a normal, 100-degree summer heatwave in the air-conditioned comfort of Rylee’s home. I hadn’t expected to take frustration and jealousy out on my team. I hadn’t expected to decide to man up and sign up for the RFS, only for it to be too late.

I hadn’t expected to let three old geezers make me want to pack it all in and leave town. But as I settled up with Freya, I’d had half a mind to get in my ute and keep driving until I found a new town, new job and to hell with Meringa and its rules.

But this?

I’d seen fires on television. I’d seen news reports and felt a tinge of pity for the poor souls in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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