Page 20 of Ink and Ashes
Colson
“ I ’m an ass,” I say after taking a sip of my beer. Beau and Dom flank either side of me where I sit at Wildfire.
“What did you say to her this time?” Beau asks, assuming that I’m referring to Holland. He’d be right.
I know from Dom that he filled his brother in on everything he’s found with Holland. I’m the lieutenant Dom reports to directly, but he figured it was important for Beau to know too. I don’t disagree—I’m just glad I wasn’t the one who had to share it all.
“She found a note on her car at the station this morning. It said, ‘Stop investigating and leave town before you burn with it.’”
The two men freeze, their eyes burning holes into the sides of my head.
“Someone threatened her?” Dom asks slowly, trying to make sure he heard me right.
I jerk my head.
“That’s why she stormed back in with fury in her step. What did you say that makes you an ass?” Beau asks.
I finish off my beer, then mutter, “That the note was only saying what the rest of the town is thinking.”
It’s silent for a moment before Dom smacks me upside the back of the head.
I don’t flinch. I deserved that.
“You’re right,” Beau says simply. “You are an ass.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dom asks.
I shrug, shaking my head. “I don’t know. She just gets under my skin, and I end up saying shit I don’t mean.”
Dom raises his brows. “So you don’t want her to leave?”
“No, I do.”
Do you, though? the voice in my head asks.
I want to say yes. The weight of her lie sits heavy on my shoulders, and that alone should be enough for me to want her gone. But I still haven’t told either of my best friends about that, and my hesitance to share tells me that maybe I do think she should stay.
I know Cassidy spoke to her about her identity, because she came back to me and called me an idiot for even daring to think that Holland is a fraud. I guess Holland filled her in on more of the story than she did me, and Cassidy ate up every word—then refused to share a single piece of it with me.
My sister’s faith in the woman currently driving me to drink is unsettling, and yet, I can’t help but find myself trying to give Holland the benefit of the doubt more and more with each day that passes.
“You sure about that?” Beau asks, sensing my hesitation.
I blow out a breath. “I don’t fucking know anymore,” I admit. “I definitely won’t miss her once she moves on to her next story, but part of me has started to wonder if she’s onto something.”
Dom grunts. “That’s because she is.”
I signal to Buck, the owner of Wildfire, for another beer and he brings it over. “Yeah,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
Beau levels me with a look. “Why are you being so resistant toward her, even with the proof she’s found?”
I take a moment to think about the question. Truth be told, I don’t know how to answer it. I wish I could say it’s because of my history with the media or the lie Holland’s been keeping, but I’m not sure it’s either of those.
Sure, at first maybe that was the case. But I can’t say that anymore.
I know better than to continue denying the facts that are staring me in the face, and the facts are that something is off about these fires.
Holland is the one who uncovered that. She’s only here to help, yet I’ve been continuously standing in her way for the simple fact that I don’t want her to be right.
But just because I don’t want it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.
I open my mouth to respond, but before I have a chance to, we’re interrupted by a herd of firefighters entering the bar. I turn on my stool to find Langley, Adler, Ace, Sharpe, Finn, and Mickey walking through the front doors.
“Aye, look who it is!” Adam “Ace” Chambers chuckles when he trains his eyes on us.
I shoot Beau and Dom a glance that says Let’s finish this later , and they nod in understanding.
“Hey, Ace,” Beau says before greeting the rest of the crew.
Our fire crew is split into two teams: one led by Beau and one led by me. It’s a rare occurrence for us to actually divide into those teams, but it helps to keep things organized in terms of who the volunteers report to and can be beneficial when we need to split up on a scene.
Liv and half the team of volunteers—Oliver Sharpe, Adam Chambers, Jess Carver, Dean McAllistar, Ray Morgan, and Wade Turner—report to Beau, while Dom and all the others—Ethan Langley, Hayden Adler, Kelsey Monroe, Caleb Newman, Travis Hart, and Brian Finnegan—report to me.
Then Robbins and our two volunteer paramedics, Danny Sullivan and Blair Abbott, report to Cass, since she’s the paramedic-in-charge (PIC) at the station.
Adler, Monroe, Newman, and Hart are also trained in EMS. Though I never respond to medical calls unless warranted, I have more experience in it than Beau, so I’ll occasionally act as both PIC and engine lieutenant if Cass isn’t on-shift, which is why they’re on my team.
Though if the situation is dire and Cass can’t make it in, I’ll usually delegate those duties to Hart or Robbins.
Cass, Beau, and I all report directly to Chief Whitlock.
The team sidles up next to us at the counter and a few tables nearby, the energy in the quiet bar immediately shifting with the presence of our crew.
Conversation flows steadily as Buck takes orders, putting everyone’s drinks on the station’s tab. Given how often we all come by, it’s easier to keep a running one that we close out weekly than it is to pay at the end of each night.
“Hope we weren’t interrupting anything,” Dean “Mickey” McAllistar teases once Buck walks away, turning to Dom, Beau, and me.
“Nah, not really,” Dom replies, taking a sip of his Coke.
“Whatcha guys talkin’ about?” Langley asks next, a goofy grin on his face.
Beau, Dom, and I share a look. So far, we’ve managed to keep all things related to Holland quiet. Aside from the fact that the whole team now knows she suspects arson, they don’t know anything about what she’s found, that Dom’s been working with her, or even that she’s still here.
“Just work,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. It’s not a total lie.
Langley hums. “Hear anything from that reporter lately?” he adds, and my teeth grind.
I know he knows her name, and I can’t tell if he’s referring to her as “that reporter” for my benefit or as a way to piss me off.
What I do know, though, is that he’s not asking because he cares what she has to say—he’s asking because he wants to sleep with her.
“Nope. Think she may have finally gotten the clue and given up,” Beau says nonchalantly. The lie rolls off his tongue so easily, and it makes me wonder if he wants her gone as much as I do.
Langley’s gaze narrows, but he brushes it off quickly. “Too bad—she was hot. Definitely thought you would’ve hate-fucked her before she left, Lieutenant,” he states, looking at me.
I nearly spit out my drink. “What? ”
Langley smirks, eyes wide. “Or wait, maybe you did. Are you the reason she left?”
No, but I wish I was , I think to myself. Just not in the way he’s implying.
I glare in Langley’s direction, and he stares back with a grin.
The only thing that man ever thinks about is fucking and firefighting, so it doesn’t surprise me that he senses the tension between Holland and me.
I’ve been ignoring the sexual attraction I feel toward her in favour of hating her, but it’s been there, slowly simmering beneath my threats and her attitude.
And that’s exactly where it will remain.
“Walk away, Langley,” is all I say as I take another sip of my beer.
He chuckles knowingly but does as I say.
Conversation continues around me, and I try to focus my attention on the crew, but my mind keeps wandering back to The Scarlet Inn. More specifically, to the woman renting a room there.
Since she arrived three weeks ago, I’ve been persistent in my stance, in thinking Holland’s wrong.
Short of telling the entire town she’s not who she says—which, aside from her name, may not even be true—I’ve done everything in my power to make her go away.
But she’s stubborn and determined, and despite my efforts, she’s still here. That has to mean something.
Whether or not she’s right about the arsonist, it’s time for me to accept that something is off about these fires. I can’t keep turning a blind eye, because despite my arguments that it could all be a coincidence, the things she’s found are worrisome.
The 2,000-hectare radius. The timeline between fires larger than 1 hectare.
And the note left on her car… fuck , I was a dick about the note.
I really didn’t mean it the way I said it, but like she said, she wouldn’t know that—because as I’ve been quick to remind her over the past few weeks, she doesn’t know me.
Honestly, I’ve been a dick about all of it. Have I been pissed off about her claims? I mean yeah, why wouldn’t I be? But that doesn’t give me the right to imply that she deserves to burn if she doesn’t leave. I may not appreciate her presence here, but that doesn’t mean I want her dead .
Obviously someone in this town does, though, if the note was any indication.
Regardless of whether it’s an arsonist or not, the fact that someone felt bold enough to leave that for her should’ve made me question if I know this town as well as I thought I did.
But instead, the first thing I did was agree with it, which makes me no better than the person who left it.
Fuck . I have some serious apologizing to do.
I don’t know what it is about her. Something comes over me every time she’s around and I become someone I don’t recognize, saying shit I don’t mean. I don’t like the way she makes me feel, but I haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly what those feelings are.