Page 21 of Wildfire (Owl Creek #1)

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."

Renée reaches over, grabs my hand, and squeezes it tight.

"You've never told anyone this, have you?"

"No. You're the first."

"Thank you for trusting me."

My heart aches to reach out and pull her in. To hold her as I open up my wounds for the first time.

"We left in the middle of the night. All I had was my backpack with a change of clothes and a pocket video game.

He'd gotten smashed drunk after winning some money at the casino, and he'd passed out when he got home.

The money was sitting right there on the coffee table, and I think my mother knew.

It was then or never. So she tied his arms and legs with some clothesline just in case, grabbed the babies and a few essentials, and we ran.

She stole some license plates from a random car in a parking lot and switched them with ours so the police couldn't find us.

We drove straight through the night. She only stopped to feed us and sleep for a few minutes until we broke down outside Owl Creek.

We've been here ever since, and I've been fighting my demons since then, too. "

Renée puts her mug down and reaches out and pulls mine out of the death grip I have on it.

She carefully puts it on the table in front of us and then climbs into my lap.

She wraps her spidery arms and legs around me until I am surrounded by parts of her.

We sit there, tangled in each other for several beats, until a deep, guttural bellow escapes my body.

It is the most raw, sharp-edged thing I've ever felt.

Almost like I am vomiting up the anger and pain with sound, and I feel like my mind and soul are floating as my body releases.

There are no tears. Just the noise of my body releasing.

And Renée holds me through it all. She grips my back with her fingers, digging in and hanging on for dear life while I let it go.

I let go of the fear that I was just like him.

The fear he'd find us. The fear that Buzz wouldn't be there when he appeared, like a dark evil emerging from the night.

I let go of the fear that I wouldn't be there to protect my mother or brothers.

That I wouldn't be man enough. Or strong enough. Or quick enough.

Every fear that lodged itself inside me is escaping my body. As it does, I realize she is humming, almost chanting in my ear, easing the movement of the pain as it rides out of my body on the cloud of my roaring sounds.

I don't know how long we sit here, tangled in each other as if we are one person, but as I quiet down, I start to become aware of her as a separate part—not me.

And as that awareness grows, so does my awareness that it is her—Renée.

Her skin touches my skin. Her heat merges with my heat. Her breath mixes with my breath.

My mouth finds hers in a desperate attempt to merge with her again.

To feel as if we are one again. We crash into each other, animal-like, as our lips and tongues explore the other.

I feel her hips begin to grind as I deepen the kiss, and the desperation turns into something else. Something more determined.