Chapter 6
PRESENT
DELANEY
Blaring sirens wake me.
I lurch up from the . . . couch? My heart pounds as I take in the room, realizing that I must have fallen asleep working again.
When I turn my head to the front window, the pain in my neck zaps down my spine, and the papers in my lap fall to the floor.
Massaging the knot growing beneath my skin, I push to my feet and feel my stomach drop at the red lights flashing down the street.
It’s loud, almost to the point my eardrums ache as I stand in front of the window and gawk out at the street. My neighbours are doing the same, some outright standing on their front porches and on the sidewalk. There’s no such thing as discretion in Cherry Peak.
Inhaling, I snap my eyes to the crack I left open in the window. The fire is close enough that the scent of it is floating inside, thick and strong.
The heavy cardigan and fluffy slippers I’m still wearing are warm enough, so I go outside to the front step, joining my nosey neighbours.
Smoke burns the back of my throat when I breathe in, glancing down the street in the direction of the flashing red lights.
The two Cherry Peak fire engines are barely visible, but there’s no mistaking where they’re heading.
Giant plumes of black smoke fill the sky above the flickers of orange flames in the direction of the town sign.
Where the drive-in sits.
Panic sets in as I grip the thin metal railing, my fingers going numb. The older couple across the street from me have the sides of their robes clenched tightly in their hands as they stare at the smoke. In a blink, I’m rushing back into the house.
I grab my car keys and don’t waste time searching for proper shoes before heading back outside and toward my car. The engine cranks, and then I’m tearing down the street. Silence makes my anxiety worse, but I keep the radio off, my focus set on the road ahead of me.
The drive-in isn’t popular anymore. Nobody goes there but teenagers looking for a spot to smoke weed and drink before they’re eighteen. That wasn’t always the case, though. Not for me.
I can’t— it can’t disappear. Not yet.
The end of the road is closed off ahead of me.
Not only is it the easiest way out of town, but it’s also the only way to access the drive-in.
It’s impossible to get a proper breath when I make it past the last of the buildings in town and get my first real view of the fire.
Of the roaring flames and thick smoke filling the sky.
I tighten my hold on the steering wheel and slow down, a piece of my soul chipping off and floating away at the scene that unfolds up ahead.
The projection room is crumbling, half of the building already collapsed while the rest of it burns the brightest. The few RCMP officers we have in town are managing the road blockage, and I swallow thickly when I park behind the first cruiser blocking my lane of the road.
Moving slowly, I park my car and step outside without bothering to turn it off. One of the officers is already headed my way by the time I get my bearings. The wall of smoke is so close now that I cough to clear my throat.
“You can’t be here, Ms. Brooks. Especially not outside with this smoke,” he says, already lifting an arm to usher me back into the car.
I take a closer look at him, trying to figure out where we must have met before. The name stitched onto his uniform doesn’t ring a bell, so I let it go, knowing I won’t be able to focus on that right now.
“What happened?” I ask, glancing over his shoulder at the scene behind him.
The fire engine parked sideways between the drive-in and the police cruiser blocks off a lot of my view, and that only makes me more frustrated. This place isn’t mine, but it feels like it is. Too many of my core memories were made here.
Watching it burn . . .
“We’re not sure yet. The fire started small, but the structure was already old and weak. For now, we need everyone to stay back. We’ve got the station working to contain as much of the fire as they can before it spreads to the woods.”
My chest lurches. It’s instinct to look for him.
From the moment I learned Darren had already started volunteering at the station, I began worrying with every blare of fire engine sirens despite knowing it was no longer my place to care. The thought of him running into fires has never felt right, and right now, it feels the worst it ever has.
Panic makes it hard to speak. “Is the entire station here?”
“Every available firefighter in Cherry Peak, and they’ve made a call for additional stations,” the officer says.
“Are you sure? Even volunteers?” I ramble, pivoting to the side.
“Yes, even volunteers. Now, I really need you to get back into your car. This is an uncontrolled area. It isn’t safe.”
I nod on instinct, even if I don’t mean to. My fingers are cold as I lift them to pull my hair back. It already stinks like smoke. Or that could just be the air. Everything smells like fire and gleams with orange and red. The snap of the wooden structure gets swallowed by a sudden cracking noise.
I stumble back a step when the last standing leg of the projection building gives. In the blink of an eye, the remaining piece of the drive-in collapses, sending the closest group of firefighters falling back with shouts of warning.
Embers float into the cloudless sky, joining the stars as the fire roars with a vengeance.
I palm my throat and blink back the burn in my eyes as they wander the field, searching.
A sea of identical brown jackets decorated with stripes of bright yellow and helmets hiding hair makes it harder to find him.
With each name I read, my fear doubles in size until it’s so big I can taste it.
My vision blurs when I finally find the man I’m looking for. The name on his back causes me to shake from head to toe with relief.
Huntsly .
“Please, Delaney, you need to get in your car and go home. There will be an update in the morning,” the officer shouts over the screaming fire.
I’m already close enough to the car that I can lean against the door for balance. I suck in huge breaths as he opens it and helps me into the driver’s seat. This time when I look at the name on his uniform, I recognize it.
“We went to high school together, right?” I blurt out.
He blinks, surprised. “Yes. We were in the same twelfth-grade French class.”
Johnson . . . “Sam Johnson?”
“That’s me. I wear contacts now, so I don’t blame you for not recognizing me without the big round glasses I used to wear. Especially in a situation like this. Which, speaking of . . .” He leans back and hovers at the door, a hand gripping the top. “Go home and try and get some sleep.”
“I won’t be able to sleep,” I admit weakly.
It doesn’t matter if he hears me or not.
The sound of another car crawling up behind mine snags his attention long enough for me to safely sniffle without him noticing.
The swell of emotions inside of me is all-consuming, and I know I need to leave, but what if this is the last time I ever see this place?
I don’t want my last memory of this place to be of it up in flames, crumbling piece by piece.
It doesn’t seem like I have a choice, though.
With a grimace, Sam pats my window. “Good night, Delaney.”
I let him shut the door without another word. The stink of smoke stains the upholstery and lingers in the vents. I turn off the air conditioning to avoid sucking in any more tainted air and wait for Sam to guide the car behind me into a U-turn before I start to do the same.
The back of my neck tingles, an invisible finger stroking it. I dart my stare from the rear-view mirror to the windshield, where across the field, two dark eyes pierce into me.
Darren stands in front of the fire, his brown jacket heavy on his shoulders and a mask strapped around his face that would hide his features enough to keep his identity a secret from anyone else.
I freeze as we stare at one another, a silent devastation passing between us. It makes it impossible to so much as release a breath of relief, knowing that he’s okay. Not emotionally, but physically. We’re the same that way.
The hose in his hands looks like it weighs a million pounds, and I don’t blame him for the way his arms sag.
I want to scream at him to run back to the fire and save the drive-in before it’s too late.
To not let our place burn to the ground after I’ve avoided it for the last eight years.
But it isn’t our place anymore, and even if they did manage to get the fire out right now, I’d just continue to avoid it the way I avoided him after school yesterday.
So instead of disobeying Sam’s orders and running across the field to beg Darren to save this place, I bring my gaze back to the mirror and leave .
Some places aren’t meant to be saved, and the memories we made here are better off as ashes.
“I knew you’d be awake,” Poppy says, eyeing me from the porch.
Her auburn hair is piled up into a messy bun on the top of her head, and she’s wearing a bright pink sweatsuit with fluffy brown slippers. There’s not a fleck of makeup on her face or the usual diamonds in her ears. She’s the Poppy from the past tonight. A fitting reminder, considering.
My shoulders droop as I use the doorframe to support my weight. “It’s four in the morning, Poppy.”
“So why are you still awake?”
“Why are you?”
The youngest of the Huntsly siblings snorts a laugh and lifts a bag in the air. “Fair enough. Can I come in despite the ungodly hour?”
“That depends. What’s in the bag?”
“Licorice and cherry Coke. I’m hoping they’re still your favourites.”
There’s a sharp twist in my chest. “You remembered that?”
“As if I could forget. You didn’t use to go anywhere without both.”
She rubs her lips together, stopping herself from saying more. I’m grateful for that hesitation tonight. I’m too exhausted to think about the past much more than I already have.
“Yeah, you can come in. Sorry for the smell.”
With a small smile, she nods and slips inside. “The smoke? I don’t think that’s coming from in here.”
“It’s both. I haven’t been able to shower.” I shut the door before joining her in the cramped living room, still full to the brim of my grandmother’s furniture .
“You went to see the fire, didn’t you?”
Dropping my eyes to the threadbare carpet, I whisper, “I had to.”
“I’m sorry, Delaney. I figured you wouldn’t have stayed inside and watched the flames.”
“Don’t be. It was only a matter of time before something happened to the drive-in. Time just ran out,” I ramble, blinking quickly. Gripping my hips, I glance away at the staircase and breathe in through my nose. “You can sit. I’m sorry it’s such a mess.”
She shrugs it off, flashing a grin and taking a seat on the loveseat. “I like it. Everything feels very homey.”
“My grandma liked collecting things, including furniture. One of these days, I’ll have a chance to finally get everything packed up and put in storage.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re doing after, you know. I would have been here sooner if I hadn’t been . . .”
I swallow thickly and wipe a palm down my thigh. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been great. I don’t need coddling.”
The loss of my grandmother last year wasn’t sudden by any means.
She’d been sick for years, slowly getting worse with every birthday.
Still, I struggled with her absence once she was gone.
She’s the main reason I stayed in Cherry Peak, and this house—her house—is a constant reminder of her.
Living here after she passed wasn’t my plan, but this town isn’t really bursting with open real estate.
“I could have been better. Stopped by sooner or forced you out of the house more often. Daisy’s been keeping us all updated, though.”
“You’re fine, Poppy. I’m doing good now. And yeah, that’s nice of her. I figured she was doing that,” I say tightly.
Has Darren been around while she’s been giving everyone updates on me? Who am I kidding? He probably gets up and leaves the moment my name is brought up.
I’m aware of Saturday nights at Peakside, the only bar in town, and how every member of their close-knit group is invited.
It’s tradition for them. While I’ve been invited to a few by both Daisy and Poppy, I’ve never joined them.
Out of every main location in Cherry Peak, Peakside is the one place I haven’t stepped foot into since the moment I moved back.
I don’t belong there with them.
“If you ever need help going through her things, I’m only a call away,” Poppy offers.
Sitting in the oversized armchair, I try to smile at her. “I wouldn’t bother you for that. It’s too long of a drive.”
“Not for long. Garrison and I are moving closer.”
“What? When?”
She frowns slightly. “Not soon enough. But we’re building a house only two hours away. Close enough to Calgary for work and at least a half hour closer to everyone here.”
“That’s exciting, Poppy. Good for you guys.”
“Thank you. We’re hoping to have it finished before the wedding, but Darren’s certain that won’t happen—” She cuts herself off and winces.
I shake my head, playing off my discomfort. “You can say his name around me. He’s not the boogeyman.”
“He’s not always the boogeyman,” she corrects me. “But honestly, we don’t need to talk about him. Even if I know you can handle it, we have more than enough to talk about without involving my brother. He’s not why I came to see you at four in the morning, anyway.”
“You came to check on me. I know,” I assure her. “But we both know why the drive-in means so much to me.”
The sadness in her eyes forces me to dart my eyes away from her. “Memories haunt the places we thought we’d outgrown, Della. You’re allowed to feel the pain of losing one as important to you as the drive-in.”
My throat strains around my next words. “I can’t.”
Not without grieving Darren too. And I’ve done that one too many times already. I can’t grieve the loss of one without the other when they’re so tightly intertwined.
“Maybe they’ll rebuild it,” she murmurs, reaching up to tighten her bun.
“I’m not sure it would be worth the cost.”
“It’s a shame they stopped taking care of it. If they rebuilt it now, I wonder if we could all band together to help keep it running.”
My smile feels heavy as doubt wiggles in my gut. “Maybe.”
Noticing my reaction, she lets it drop and starts digging in the bag beside her. “I’m sorry. Let’s snack and forget about it for now, yeah?”
I catch the bag of licorice when she tosses it across the room. “That sounds great.”
The licorice is sweet, but the ache in my heart doesn’t budge. Still, I chew and pretend it’s enough while Poppy keeps me company.