Page 53 of Wildfire
She nods and bites her lip, which seems to be a tell when thinking of something, and doesn't want to say it out loud.
"What is it? You seem to have something on your mind."
"I feel bad."
"About what?"
"I'm excited about going on tour. This is the happiest I've been since before my mom died. But it's only happening because Georgia got hurt. I'm benefitting from someone else's pain."
"So you feel guilty because you're happy?"
"Yeah."
I haul myself out of my side of the booth, scoot in next to her, and put my arm around her. "Listen to me, Renée. You had nothing to do with Georgia getting hurt. So you have no reason to feel guilty. You should be relieved that this band you love can keep making music because you showed up in their lives."
She nods and looks down as she fiddles with a strand of hair.
"It's just that I've never been…"
"Happy?"
"I guess I thought I somehow deserved all the shit that came my way. I felt bad leaving my dad even though he didn't protect me from my brother's shitty behavior. You know? I guess I decided a while back that I must have done something wrong to deserve what was happening."
"Renée, there's no cosmic scorecard. Bad stuff happens to good people. Your only responsibility is what you do with what happens, even if the only thing youcando is keep a positive attitude. How you stepped up and cared for things when your mom died is noble. If anything, you deserve all this goodness and happiness."
She looks at me through lowered lids. "You think so?"
"I know so. You've been gone two weeks and are already living your dream."
I hate to admit it, but if thereisa cosmic scorecard, it seems like all signs are pointing to her being a successful touring singer. Which means these next few days will be our last together.
My chest tightens, and I want to jump and run out of here. Go for a swim to find some release of the energy that has suddenly washed over me. Instead, I catch the waiter's eye to come take our order.
After we eat, we walk along Main Street to check out the vendors selling sweets, T-shirts, and souvenirs. At the end of the street, a path opens up to the boardwalk that reaches all the way around the lake, where the boats are. We stroll along quietly, each in our own thoughts, as we admire the beautiful boats people have brought from miles around.
I greet people I know, many of whom recognize Renée from the night before. We stop and chat with some townsfolk about the festival, the fire, and the show last night. All of them compliment her. She is beaming.
I love this. I love seeing Renée happy and getting the praise and recognition she deserves. Supporting her decision to pursue her dream was the right thing. It was the noble thing. I just wish it didn't hurt like hell.
We walk about halfway around the lake before turning back.
"Cole?"
"Yeah?"
"You're a good man."
"Thanks." I put my arm around her shoulders, and we walk silently as the crowds peter out. I find a bench under a maple tree, and we sit watching the moon rise, casting its glow on the lake.
She rests her head on my shoulder and hums a tune. Then she starts to sing, and her dulcet sound resonates in my chest, soothing my heart. Somehow, the very thing that is taking her away from me is the medicine I need to handle it.
When she finishes, I reach under her chin and lift her face till she looks at me. "You're amazing, Renée. I'm honored you're spending your time with me."
She slides a hand over my leg, inching it up toward my dick. I look around us. There is no one else on the boardwalk.
"Renée," I growl.
"Instead of spending timewithme, wanna spend some timeinsideme, Chief?"
