Beautiful Burn

  My eyes burned, but I willed away the tears, refusing to cry in front of Jojo. I typed in my password, feeling like the day I'd updated it was a lifetime ago--so full of hope that I was capable of change.

  Jojo's phone slammed, and she peeked around the doorway again. "Can you hold down the fort this week? I'm going south."

  "Are they going to let you cover the Alpines?"

  She smirked. "They don't know it yet, but yes. The Colorado Springs hotel, right?"

  I nodded, holding a brave face until Jojo waved and the back door slammed shut. My face crumbled, and I covered my face with my hands, sucking in deep breaths.

  It wasn't so surprising that I had fucked up, but that I had ruined something for myself that I loved. That thought led me to Tyler, and I knew I was ruining that, too. There was a dark part of me that just couldn't let myself be happy, and sabotaged anything good before I could lose it.

  The phone warbled, and I sat up, cleared my throat, and picked up the receiver. "The MountainEar," I said, my voice breaking a bit.

  "How's your first day back?" Tyler said. His deep, smooth voice made everything else disappear.

  I wiped my wet cheeks, clearing my throat again. "It's great. Home sweet home."

  "How's the apartment?"

  "It's great. Thank you."

  "Did you go there?" he asked. I could almost see the look of disbelief on his face.

  "Yeah. Yeah, I went there. You do have sheets on your bed, and they're clean."

  He sighed. "Ellie..."

  "I know."

  "No, you don't know. I miss you like crazy. Being on the mountain, wreaking of smoke, exhausted and covered in dirt is my favorite place to be, but it's not the same without you. Something's missing now."

  "The sheriff?" I teased.

  He breathed out a laugh. "I'm serious. I wrote you a letter. All the guys are giving me so much hell."

  "Taylor most of all, I'm sure."

  "The fire's so close, we're taking shifts and staying at the hotel."

  "You're not sleeping at fire camp?"

  "Nope. Taylor's been taking off into town somewhere. I think there's a girl."

  "There's always a girl."

  "Not one intriguing enough to hang around during the few hours we have off from a fire."

  "You probably haven't heard yet, but you will. Jojo's on her way to cover the Alpines."

  "Jojo?" Tyler said her name with disdain. "Why?"

  "I told her about all of the news outlets covering the fire. She thought the magazine should have someone there."

  He sighed. "Fuck, Ellie, I'm sorry. I know that has to hurt."

  My chest felt heavy, and my eyes began to burn again. "I did it to myself."

  "Doesn't make it suck any less."

  "You're right."

  He was quiet for a moment. "I wish I was there."

  "Me, too."

  "Twelve days, Ellison. I'm coming for you in twelve days."

  "Tyler?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I've been thinking about drinking. A lot." When he didn't respond, I continued, "I don't think this is going to be as easy as I thought it would be."

  "Who is that woman who kicked you out of your house?"

  "My mother?"

  "No, the other one."

  My cheeks flushed just thinking about her. "Sally."

  "Yeah. Her. You should call her. You have her number, don't you?"

  I rubbed my temple with my index and middle fingers. "She doesn't work for my parents anymore."

  "Even better."

  "I'm not asking her for help, Tyler. I loathe her. I refuse to give her the satisfaction."

  "You're saying it's wrong for her to feel satisfied about helping you? I think that's the nature of her job."

  "Satisfied in the way a scheming, smug, rat-faced cunt would be satisfied, not a life coach."

  "Well ... maybe you can just try to stay busy. Keep your mind off it until I get there."

  I considered his suggestion, one project immediately coming to mind. "Your apartment needs some work."

  "Don't you dare."

  "I'm serious. That will take me at least twelve days. Can I unpack for you?"

  "No."

  "Please? It will look like a real apartment when you get back."

  "Absolutely not."

  "Why not? Are you afraid of what I'll come across in those boxes? What? Is there like ... skin suits or shrunken heads or something? Don't tell me you're ashamed of your porn."

  He chuckled. "No, I just don't feel right letting you do that."

  "You're letting me stay in your apartment. I'd say it's a fair exchange."

  The line was quiet for a few seconds, and then Tyler sighed. "You don't have to, but if you want to, and it'll keep your mind off things, be my guest."

  My smile faded. "Tyler?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't fuck Jojo."

  "What the fuck, Ellie? I didn't fuck Jojo when I had the chance a year ago. I'm definitely not going to now."

  "You've never been with Jojo? I thought..."

  "Yeah, she's still offended ... but no. Never."

  I sighed, surprisingly relieved.

  "So what are you trying to say?" he asked.

  "Nothing. I just don't want you making things awkward with my boss."

  "Right," he said, self-satisfied. "I'm telling all the guys we're exclusive. I'm telling Liam first."

  "We're not."

  "You just told me not to sleep with someone."

  "Doesn't mean we're exclusive because I don't want you fucking my boss."

  "So is it all right with you if I fuck anyone else?"

  I clenched my teeth. "I don't like this game."

  "Answer."

  "I don't care who you fuck," I snapped.

  Tyler became quiet. I only felt victorious for a few seconds, and then it was gone. My pride and guilt both seemed to stem from the same hollow, but they filled nothing. I wasn't sure where the need to keep Tyler at arm's length came from. Part of me wanted to believe it was to focus on sobriety that was shamefully failing, the other that as individuals we were too fucked up to function. I let him just close enough to feel loved, and then threw him into the corner like dirty laundry. For someone who at most times was scared he would leave, I was trying incredibly hard to push him away.

  I was getting one thing right: being undeserving. The shame sent me into another cycle of guilt and need and feelings of worthlessness. I wasn't getting better; I was getting worse.

  "Is it so fucking hard for you to admit, Ellie? Can't we just be happy?"

  I swallowed. "We aren't a we. I've told you that from the beginning."

  "Then what are we doing?"

  "We're fucking and fighting, Tyler. That's what we do."

  "Fucking and fighting." Clearly shocked and frustrated, Tyler stumbled over his words. He finally laughed once out of frustration. "That's it?"

  "That's it."

  "We'll talk about it when I get home."

  I hung up, instantly feeling sick to my stomach. I couldn't keep busy to stay sober, deal with everything going on in my life, and pile on a serious relationship, no matter how much I wanted to.

  The phone rang, and I answered, mostly scheduling meetings and fielding ad questions for Wick. He left once and then came back, putting his fist on my desk as he read my report over my shoulder.

  He stood up and sighed, then turned on his heels, slamming his door behind him. The frames on the walls rattled, and my shoulders shot up to my ears. I'd worked for the magazine for a little over five months and had yet to experience Wick's wrath. Maybe it was time.

  The door was yanked open, and then I heard Wick sit in his leather chair. "Ellie!" he yelled.

  I stood, pausing in the doorway, expecting a minor verbal assault.

  "You're a good kid. We've pushed you too hard," he said, staring at the bookcase behind me.

  "P-pardon?" It was almost more unsettling that he wasn't screaming at me.


  "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to facilitate your ... issues. I'm not sure what to do. I'm not the type to just ignore this kind of behavior, Ellie. You could've gotten seriously injured, or worse. Is that cut...?"

  I touched my cheek. I'd forgotten about the slap nature had delivered to my face--not that I'd felt it until hot blood dripped down my cold skin. "Yes."

  Wick shifted in his seat, and then looked at his watch. "Have you eaten? It's almost lunchtime."

  "Uh ... no?"

  "I'll order pizza. Think about what I said."

  "Okay," I said, giving him a thumbs up. "Good talk."

  He winked at me, and I closed the door, shaking my head. If that was an example of Wick's parenting skills, it made sense that Jojo was a walking carrot-colored Barbie doll who held grudges against any man who'd told her no.

  The phone rang the moment I sat down, and I held the receiver to my ear. Just as I opened my mouth to greet the person on the line, Jojo spoke.

  "It's me. I'm here."

  "Oh. Have you seen my boys?"

  She laughed once. "Your boys? No, I haven't. I've secured a room--which wasn't easy, by the way. Literally, every room was booked except for a guy who suffered some burns today. He's out for a while, so they're sending him home. I'm going to hang out in the lobby to see if I can catch the Alpines when they get in."

  "They might be out there all night. I'm not really sure what their schedule is going to be. They've never stayed in a hotel before--at least, not this season."

  "I'll figure it out. The damn news stations are everywhere. We have an in, though, if you didn't..."

  "If I didn't screw it up. I know."

  "Sorry," she said.

  "Just be careful, Jojo. Do exactly what they tell you, when they tell you, and dress warm. It gets cold up there at night."

  "Thanks, Ellie."

  I hung up, wishing there was a polite way for me to ask her not to fuck my not-really-boyfriend.

  I finished my report and emailed it to Jojo. I was surprised to see some shots she'd taken of the firefighters loitering around the hotel lobby. She was gifted, no doubt.

  As the sun set behind the peaks, Wick rifled around in his drawers, and then his coat skidded along the sleeves of his sweater.

  "Only two smoke breaks and no news from Jojo. Today was mighty fucking boring," Wick yelled from his office.

  "Speak for yourself," I said.

  He stepped out, straightening his scarf and pulling on his gloves. "Not all of us are spry enough to follow hotshots up mountains for a living. Are you back at your parents'?"

  I cleared my throat. "No. I'm actually staying at Tyler's apartment. I haven't found a place yet."

  Wick frowned. "Did a story on the affordable housing here. You might find something in the spring if you time it right."

  "Yeah," I said, feeling even more hopeless than I had ten seconds before.

  "Don't call your man. I'll take you."

  "Really?" I said, more surprised that he thought I was still using Jose than at his offer.

  Wick let me smoke in his truck as he puffed on his own cigarette and exhaled out the crack of his window.

  "You and Tyler, huh?" Wick said.

  "Kind of ... not really."

  "He's a good kid, too. I figured you two would end up falling for each other. I could see it in his eyes."

  "Yeah?" I said, amused.

  "I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. I know you've got other things going on, though. Probably feels like a lot on your plate."

  "It was his idea for me to stay here. And it's just temporary."

  "Uh huh."

  "I'm not using him. He insisted, and I didn't have another choice."

  "Ouch. I hope you didn't say that to him."

  "No," I said, looking down. "I didn't."

  "You know there's an apartment above the MountainEar, right?"

  "No, I didn't."

  "It's vacant and new. I built it the same time I built the building, in case Linda kicked me out. I'm an old blow hard, you know. Lost my looks. She's still as pretty as ever. Jojo would look just like her without that clown makeup on her face."

  I choked out a laugh, coughing smoke and waving my hand in front of my face.

  Wick pulled into Lone Tree Village, familiar with where to go. He parked, and I stepped out, bending down. "Thanks for the ride, Wick. I'll figure out some reliable transportation ASAP."

  He waved me away. "I'll pick you up in the morning. Not like the shuttles run out there. Just keep busy tonight, and I'll see you in the morning."

  "Jojo said the same thing ... to keep busy."

  "She's told you. I've been through it. It's probably the only reason I didn't fire your foolish ass for stumbling out into an active fire zone. That, and you're a damn good action photographer. Even better than Jojo."

  "Thanks again for the ride."

  Wick waved to me, and then backed out, braking just long enough to see me get into the apartment safe.

  I locked the door behind me and flipped on the light, sighing at the sheer size of the task. The apartment wasn't dirty, but I was about to unpack an undetermined year's worth of belongings of both brothers. After changing into more comfortable clothes, I returned to the living room and opened the first box. I used every cabinet, shelf, dresser, and closet to put away clothes, photo albums, sports memorabilia, books, magazines, dishes, and cooking utensils in their proper place.

  Once I cleared the last box from the living room, a pair of yellow gloves under the sink inspired me to clean the kitchen. Wick had told me to stay busy, and I was still two hours from bedtime. I wiped down the counters, scrubbed the sinks, and ran a load of dishes in the washer.

  I opened the fridge, mentally prepared to see mold that would make an antibiotic lab envious, but all that was present on the pristine shelves was a six-pack of locally brewed beer.

  I closed the door and sat on the floor with my back to the fridge, looking up. I had worked hard and felt lonely; there was no better excuse for a cold beer than that.

  "Just go to bed, Ellie," I said aloud. But I wasn't tired.

  I opened the fridge, and then closed it again, my fingers creating that comforting pop and fizz sound I loved so much. The living room looked like a real apartment, with actual decorations and lamps on the end tables at each end of the sofa and one beside the recliner. The dishwasher was still running with the last half of dishes and silverware, and there was a knife block and full salt and pepper shakers just out of the box on the counter.

  I tilted my head back, and then licked the foam from my upper lip, smiling at the small victory while trying to ignore my utter failure.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I was sitting on the sofa with my feet propped on the coffee table, wiggling my toes in my knee-high fuzzy socks and wearing one of Tyler's sweatshirts that was big enough to be a nightgown. I breathed in the smell of the pumpkin caramel latte candles I'd just lit, feeling comforted by the lines in the carpet from the vacuum and the gleam from the wood polish on the end tables.

  It had taken me nearly two weeks to unpack each box and find a place for everything the twins owned. Tyler had been busy, home just long enough to see his things unpacked and get a hot shower before heading back to the barracks. After their belongings were put away, I cleaned every inch, and then used some of my savings to buy a few inexpensive finishing touches for the smaller tables, like the candles and antique firefighting books I'd found at Goodwill and had stacked flat next to the lamps the boys already had. Standing on one end table were vintage fire hose couplings from a New York firehouse that had been welded vertically on eBay for cheap and a hundred-year-old copper and brass fire extinguisher that I'd sat by the door.

  A photo album from Taylor and Tyler's childhood was sitting in my lap, opened to my favorite picture of Tyler and his mother. She was squatting next to him, surrounded by their baseball team, the Crushers. She was the coach, her right arm hooked around his middle,
her left arm around Taylor with a wide, toothy smile. They looked happier than my family had ever been. I couldn't imagine what her death had done to them.

  I removed the picture from the album and walked across the room to the empty frame on the mantle that sat beneath the flat screen hanging on the back wall. I inserted the photo, careful to only touch the edges, and placed it next to one of the small lanterns with an antler base I'd found in a box in Taylor's room. The metal flecks in the frame made it stand out, and I hoped it would make them smile like it did me.

  I sat down on the sofa again with a mug of hot buttered rum and cider, leaning back and letting my muscles relax. Tyler's absence had helped him focus on missing me instead of our last argument, and our nightly phone calls made it harder for me to deny that I missed him.

  The changing leaves on the Aspen trees around Estes Park were beginning to show early signs that fall was upon us. Fire season was just weeks away from being over.

  My phone was connected to Taylor's Bluetooth speaker in the corner with Halsey's album on loop, and I was waiting on Tyler's call. He'd stayed in Colorado Springs during his first R&R because the fire still wasn't contained. He'd said the night before that they were close to calling the ground crews, and I was hopeful that this R&R they could come home.

  The lock shimmied, and the door opened, and I startled, then turned around to see Tyler standing in the doorway in shock.

  "Honey, I'm ... holy shit." He leaned back, looking at the number on the door. "Am I in the right place?"

  I stood, holding out my hands and letting them fall to my thighs. "Welcome home."

  Tyler looked at me for the longest time, a dozen emotions scrolling across his face.

  "What?" I giggled nervously, setting my mug on a coaster.

  He dropped his bag and took three long strides before wrapping his arms around me and planting a deep kiss on my mouth. He cupped my jaw, and then the kisses slowed, less passionate and more careful, giving me a few more pecks before pulling away.

  He bit his bottom lip, tasted the cider on his lips, and looked down at the mug. "What is that? Rum?"

  I smiled. "Just a little with my cider. It's been a long day."

  "It's been a long month. A really long month." He took turns looking at both of my eyes, his warm brown irises bouncing back and forth while he thought of something adequate to say. He scanned my face, sliding his thumb along my bottom lip.

  He shook his head. "What is that amazing smell?"

  "The candles."

  "Candles." He breathed out a laugh. "In my apartment. Taylor is going to shit a wildcat."

  "I can get rid of them. I just thought--"