Page 48 of Ignite

Big Bad Brother:Heard you went out last night. You’re not gonna bail on today?

Big Bad Brother:Can’t do today without you.

Big Bad Brother:SIS. Get back to me or I’ll get all the guys to call you Ophelia.

I hadn’t expected the text from Darin but appreciated that he remembered my father who’d been his second father for five years. Reece and Korbin had served beside dad for years with the RFS. Like I’d told Ethan, the town looked after its own. My brother and I had been enveloped in love and support but today would be a hard one.

Blinking back tears, I continued reading.

Grace:OMG what a night. Ran into Trey walking out of the pub. One look and

Grace:You’re not gonna believe. Buy me a drink at the pub and I’ll tell all.

Grace:You will be there, right? I know today’s a hard one for you.

Grace:Please answer me. You’re not mad because we left you last night? I checked this morning, and your car was still there.

Grace:Tell me you found a hot guy to heal your broken heart.

Grace:Or a hot guy that made you forget what’s his name.

Grace:Proof of life?

Rylee to Big Bad Brother:I hate today.

Before leaving Beringi, I stopped in at the local department store. I ignored the sales assistant’s offer to help, grabbing the first t-shirt and sweatpants, bra, and panties I could find in my size. I needed to get out of town in record time.

“Here you go.” The girl handed me a brown paper bag with my clothes from last night. She must have been fifteen or sixteen with enough layers of makeup to try and pass for eighteen and almost enough layers of clothes to stop her from being jailbait. I sighed. After hooking up with Ethan last night, I wasn’t in any position to judge.

“Are you a fan?” She asked, nodding to my new tee as I tried to wrangle my long, light brown hair into a messy bun and failed. I grimaced when the hair tie snapped. I hand brushed my hair and hoped it didn’t look like I’d rolled out of bed.

“Who?” I hadn’t taken notice of the band. “Oh, Stormy Waters. Yeah, I guess.”

I remembered coming home early from soccer training to find my parents doing their version of dirty dancing to “Be Still”. It was only months before my mother had gotten sick and I’d avoided anything to do with the band since that night. Unshed tears burned up to my eyes but I pushed them away, wanting to remember that moment as one of the last happy times when my family had been whole. This tee might become my new fav. It no longer grossed me out thinking that my parents had been lovers. I wish I’d asked them more questions about making relationships work, when to compromise and when to walk away.

The swirling emotions of bone-deep grief and loneliness had less to do with Ethan than accidentally picking a tee that would bring out the perfect memory on the worst day. I could no longer avoid or ignore the date.

“Have a great day,” she said, handing me back my credit card. Why did people say that? What about people like me who were just hoping to survive?

“Thanks, you too.”

I left before my emotions exploded all over the place. This had been a stupid idea. Ishouldhave known better. Ishouldhave bailed on last night and wallowed at home watching old movies and flicking through family albums.

Despite my bravado, I hadn’t expected to spend the night in town and refused to head home doing the walk of shame in last night’s clothes.

Worse still, I’d rushed out of Ethan’s hotel room before grabbing a shower. But at least new clothes and the drive home would help me forget my mistake.

Ethan Cooper wasn’t a good guy.

Ethan Cooper had a body I could love, but a character I’d never respect.

Ethan Cooper was a one-night mistake. One I didn’t intend to repeat.

Except, when I caught my reflection in the glass doors, I realized my subconscious hated me. Band t-shirt and grey sweatpants? I’d just purchased replicas of what Ethan had loaned me last night.

Disappointed in my lack of judgment I ignored my need for coffee, deciding to avoid cafés and the chance of running into Ethan before I could get out of town. I didn’t need cold-pressed coffee. The dishwater taste of drive-thru coffee fit my mood and the day.

An hour later, I’d read each card and my soft brown eyes were probably all shades of red as I cried at the number of wreaths and bouquets already on daddy’s grave. They’d all been delivered before mid-morning on a Sunday, when I’d expected most of my friends would still be nursing hangovers or enjoying a sleep-in.

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