Page 45 of Wildfire
"Ready."
Chapter Twenty-One: Cole
The short drive home is quiet as we edge down the main drag through town.
Renée was fantastic tonight. Now I know for sure I can't ask her to stay or hold her back. She deserves a chance to show the world her talent.
I glance over at her as we pull into the driveway, and despite everything that has happened with her ex-boyfriend, she's beaming. It's like the sun transferred some of its power to her because she seems to be emitting her own light. That's the light I wanted to keep safe. That's the light I wish I could spend my life protecting, but not like I did tonight. That is why I have to let her go. So she can emit her light.
I put the truck in park and turn the key off. She doesn't make a move. She sits there, looking at the lake and the bats flying over it, catching mosquitos. I sit silently with her, waiting until she's ready. Knowing she's leaving on Sunday, I want to soak up every moment I can with her instead of avoiding her like I’ve been doing the last two days.
"I'm going to miss this place." She looks at me with an ease to her demeanor I haven't seen before.
"This place is going to miss you."
She chuckles and then shifts to face me, unbuckling her seatbelt. "This place, or you?"
"I think you know."
"Thank you for protecting me tonight."
My chest tightens. "You're welcome, but I shouldn't have done that."
Her head cocks to the side. "Done what?"
"Hit your ex-boyfriend. I don't think violence is the answer."
"But you were protecting me."
"Renée, I…" I search the night sky for words to explain what I am thinking and not saying. "I don't think violence is the answer. I don't want you to think I am that kind of man."
"What kind?"
"The kind you need protecting from."
"Why would I need protecting from you? You're the one who stood up for me."
"A man who resorts to violence is violent. There are other ways to handle guys like your ex."
"Are you worried that I'm afraid of you now?"
"I'm worried about who I became tonight when he said those things about you. That's not who I am. I have worked very hard NOT to be that guy."
"What are you saying?"
I shift in my seat, but there is no way I can have this conversation in my truck. "Let's go in the house. If you want, I'll make you a cup of tea, and then we can talk about it."
"Promise?"
A weak smile spreads across my scruffy face as I look at her. "Promise."
I pull her guitar out of the back and carry it inside for her. We kick off our shoes, and then I make us both a cup of chamomile. We settle onto the couch, and I pull a Pendleton from the back and lay it across our legs, curled up and inches from each other.
"So…what were you trying to say earlier?"
I finger the edge of my mug. "I was six years old when we left California. I don't remember everything about my life before we arrived, but I will never forget a few distinct memories."
Again, my eyes dart around, looking for the words I've held inside my whole life. "My biological father was a violent man. He hurt me a few times, and he hurt my mom. The twins were too young for him to attack, or maybe it was enough to take it out on me and Mom."
