Page 5 of Ignite

We weren’t getting anywhere, and until we sorted things out here, traffic would remain interrupted. I wouldn’t put it past Old Man Hobbs to leave his pub, hobble down the road and threaten to “bash you young’uns heads together until you see sense”.

I took a breath and tried to be reasonable, “I know, and I’m sorry. I can arrange the car to be towed to a repairer and then we can sort out the other stuff.”

This seemed to thaw his attitude, or maybe he needed a coffee as much as I needed a calming pot of chamomile tea. I’d already had my morning coffee while trying to digest the news that had taken me by shock.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” the stranger said. “Let’s let your insurance handle it.”

No. No. No.

“I would, but I’d prefer to organize this privately, rather than through insurance.”

“Protecting your no-claim bonus?”

His words hit a nerve that I couldn’t explain. The stress from the last couple of hours became overwhelming and I started crying. The tears flowed and I didn’t bother brushing them away, because what was the point? By now, everyone standing around gawking would have heard the news and my tears would only fuel their gossip.

No one would think it was about the accident. And it wasn’t. It was about waking to news that I hadn’t expected, and now the threat of dealing with more paperwork than a normal car accident would warrant.

I couldn’t do it. I was sick of being nice and strong and pretending that the world didn’t hurt.

“What?” I sobbed, realizing the man in front of me had lost his attitude.

“Look, I’ll manage my own repairs. No insurance company is gonna pay to get it repaired, and I’m rather attached to the old girl.”

I was filled with so much relief, that it took all my composure not to hug him. Then again, if I did that, it would give the gossips something legit to say. “We need to exchange details,” I insisted before he could change his mind.

Then, my day turned back to shit.

He threw shade over my name. The name my beloved parents had gifted me, Ethan-bloody- Cooper decided to treat as the biggest joke he’d ever heard.

The rest of our conversation went worse than could be expected and I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. I called a friend to tow my car and left Ethan-bloody-Cooper to do the same.

I got to work, but didn’t turn on the lights, preferring to hide in what used to be my father’s office. Now that I had the privacy to scroll through my newsfeed and photos, the tears didn’t come.

But the memories did.

Every single memory reminded me that this had been a Terrible, Awful, No Good, Fucked Up Day.

When I got to the end of my photos, there was the photo I’d taken of Ethan’s driver’s license.

Damn, why did he have to be so cute? And why did I have to hit him with my car? There had been a spark of attraction before it had turned to shit.

Now?

I should leave town. There was no future for me here. But as I looked around the workshop and remembered negotiating with my father over repainting the wall before we hung his memorabilia, I knew I’d live here until I died.

This workshop and my home were more than structures. And as much as I didn’t want to face the town and their opinions on today’s events, I knew they cared about me.

As for Ethan, his driver’s license said he lived in Sydney. By now, he was probably halfway back home, and I’d never see him again.

Which was just as well because I’d prefer to dream about the what-could-have-been without the risk of running into him in town.

After all, it wasn’t Ethan-fucking-Cooper’s fault that all men were dicks.

Chapter 3

Spark

“Welcometoanotherbeautifulday in downtown Meringa. The sun is shining, again. The birds would be singing if it wasn’t going to be 40 degrees Celsius in the shade—that’s 100 degrees for those who prefer to use Fahrenheit. However you look at it, and however you want to measure it, we have another day of total fire ban. This is another reminder to clean out gutters and update your bushfire plan.”

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