Chapter 33 Dave
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DAVE
Once I’m out of earshot, I make a quick call.
“Hello?” the voice on the other end of the line sounds hesitant, confused. As he should be.
“Hey, Fire. I’m headed to Jersey to see Mom,” my tone clipped. “Want to bring someone by.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. Too long. “Someone?”
“Yeah.” I may be as cryptic as hell, but that’s the way it needs to be with Fire. I’m not ready to dive deep into conversation with this asshole. At least not yet. But I need him enough to tolerate any demons where he’s concerned.
He lets out a baffled chuckle. “Okay, I’ll see you when you get here.”
After discussing it with Charlene, she agreed to visit Fire while we’re in town.
Given everything she has been through, I was surprised to learn she hadn’t taken any formal self-defense training classes before.
She said she’d participated in a few classes in high school, but they were elementary at best. Apparently Candy Cane Key was more focused on quirky holiday silliness than self-protection.
She hadn’t found an opportunity to enroll in anything better without needing to close her salon and risk driving to a neighboring town.
Despite my past with Fire, he's the best self-defensive trainer I know. And if this is something Char wants, I’ll put up with him to make sure she has the best possible outcome.
The drive back to New Jersey feels different this time.
Char’s in the passenger seat, curled up under my old Princeton sweatshirt, humming along to some country song that I only halfway know.
She doesn’t talk much, but she doesn’t have to.
Just having her with me feels like sunlight after a decade of dense fog.
When we finally pull into the parking lot of Mom’s apartment she’s already waiting at the door, apron tied, hair pinned up. I swear she’s glowing. I haven’t seen her like this in years.
“David!” she calls, waving. Then her eyes land on Char, and she practically lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, this must be her.” Mom’s not subtle.
Char blushes, offering a small wave. “Hi, Mrs. Newtown.”
“Call me Valerie, sweetheart. Come in, both of you. It’s so cold out. I’ve got everything set up to make soup and sugar cookies.”
I feel like I’ve entered an alternate universe. Shaking the cobwebs from my mind, I stagger to recall the last time she looked and sounded this… normal. She seems healthy and vibrant. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
In the kitchen, the three of us settle into a rhythm that feels like it’s always existed. Me chopping vegetables, Mom mixing icing colors, and Char pressing cookie cutters into dough like she’s done it a thousand times before.
“Did you cook with your mother?” Mom asks gently.
Char’s smile falters. “No. She wasn’t… domestic.”
Without thinking, I slide an arm around her shoulders. Her muscles tense for a beat before she softens against me.
“Well,” Mom says brightly, “I hope you won’t mind cooking with us. It’s kind of our thing.”
The crack in Char’s voice when she answers almost undoes me. “I’d like that a lot.”
Later, I make a pot of tea and send them off to get to know one another while I tackle the dishes. Their laughter drifts in from the living room, and when I finally wander in, I have to grip the doorway to steady myself.
Char is sitting cross-legged on the rug, painting Mom’s nails a shade of rose pink, both of them giggling like teenagers.
For a man who’s run into burning buildings, I’ve never felt more undone. This woman… this broken, brave woman has managed to heal us both without even realizing it.
A few days later, Fire agrees to meet us in person. He sizes Char up with the wary precision of a man who’s seen too much. “This one must be different,” he says to me, not caring that she’s standing right here.
But why would he? This man lives to shock people.
“Why?” The question escapes before I can stop myself, instantly regretting it.
“For you to call me.” He smirks, giving her a devilish grin that makes me want to throat punch the S.O.B. “Hi.” He extends his hand to Char. “I’m Holt. Holt Firestone. But you can call me Fire.” He winks.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “I swear, if you lay one—”
“Stop.” His tone cuts through my words. “Regardless of what you think of me, I’d never do that to you.”
Char’s head snaps back and forth between us. I can only imagine the questions I’ll have to answer once we’re alone.
He turns to Char. “Let’s get to work. Come on over here to this side of the mat and I’ll go over a few things before we get started. Have you done any self-defensive training before?”
“No. Not really. Only a few in high school.” Char watches his every move, wide eyed.
I can almost see her come alive with Fire.
I don’t know how the pompous son of a gun does it.
But he’s always been the best at any personal training or self-defense coaching he’s done.
Or I wouldn’t endure watching him put his hands on her.
But a few moments of discomfort for a lifetime of increased security against incoming threats is worth it.
Watching him teach her self-defense is like watching a storm form.
Quiet strength building into something fierce and unstoppable.
I knew he’d be able to give her the confidence she needs to face any crisis in the future.
And as much as I wish I didn’t have to come back here to deal with him and our past, I’d do it again and again if it will keep Char safe.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Pulling my cell from my pocket, I reluctantly pull my attention from Char and my ex-best friend to see who’s calling. My face falls when I see my father’s name.
“Hello.”
“David,” he says in that smooth, practiced tone that sounds like a business call instead of a conversation. “There’s a charity gala next weekend in Washington. The board expects you there.”
“Hard pass.” I’m not in the mood to dance through another evening of his manipulation.
He sighs, a little too loudly. “It’s in honor of your grandfather this year.”
That stops me cold. My chest tightens. Of course. He’s using Grandpa as bait. Typical.
Still, the thought of ignoring something that bears my grandfather’s name feels like spitting on the man’s memory. The man who actually taught me what honor looked like.
“As much as I’d rather be getting a root canal,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose, “I’ll be there.”
“Good,” he replies, satisfaction leaking into his voice before he hangs up. No goodbye. Just that.
I shove it back into my pocket hard enough to rip the seam.
“Hey,” a soft voice pulls me back. Char’s walking toward me from across Fire’s studio, a hand pressed to her middle. Her face is pale, her breathing shallow.
Instant panic spikes through me. “You okay?”
She nods, trying to smile. “Yes. That was great.”
Relief drains through me so fast my knees almost give out. I can’t believe I let my guard down long enough for my father’s poison to distract me.
Fire gives me a brief nod from across the room, already moving to clean up his gear. I lift a hand in a half-hearted wave before guiding Char toward the door.
Once we’re outside, I squeeze her hand. “That was my dad. He’s roped me into a charity thing in D.C. Normally, I’d turn him down in a hot second, but it’s in honor of my grandfather.”
Her brow furrows. “So you’re going?”
“I have to,” I admit. “I wouldn’t disrespect my grandfather, just because the thought of being in the same room with my father makes me want to explode.” I hesitate briefly before turning to her, holding her hands tightly in mine. “It would mean the world to me to have you there by my side.”
“D.C.?” she repeats, hesitating. I can see the calculation in her eyes. “It’s so close to where I left.” The alarm in her face is evident. The risk, the fear of being seen.
“I know it’s scary. But you’ll be with me the entire time. I’d never let anything happen to you.” I’d never pressure her, but having her by my side might make the evening marginally bearable.
She studies me for a long moment, like she’s measuring whether she can believe that. Then, slowly, she nods.
I thread my fingers through hers. The heaviness lifting from my chest. “Thank you,” I utter, my gratitude and relief rolling off of me in waves. “I know I’m asking a lot. This is a really big step. But maybe it’s time. For both of us living in fear. To stop hiding.”
Her eyes soften, and she gives a small, trembling smile. Like she understands I need her with me, every bit as much as she needs me. “Maybe it is.”
The night of the gala, we stay at a low profile hotel near the venue. We stick with room service. Anything necessary to keep her comfortable. She spends the majority of the day getting ready. But she’s here with me, and that’s all that matters.
Once she emerges from the bathroom, dressed and ready to go, my breath catches in my throat.
She’s a vision. Her hair is blonde now, shimmering under the room’s soft light.
I love all of my chameleon’s colors, but somehow her light colored locks seem to suit her best of all.
When I can finally tear my gaze away from her face and hair, I notice the red sequined dress she’s wearing.
It hugs her curves like it was sewn onto her.
“You’re going to get me arrested for indecent thoughts,” I whisper, earning an eye roll and a nervous laugh.
“Thank heavens Addison let me borrow this dress.”
“It’s stunning. You’d never know it belonged to someone else. It fits you like a glove. But to be honest, I can’t stop looking at your hair.” Coming closer, I glide my fingertips over the soft waves, careful not to disrupt all of the work she’s put in to making it look so effortlessly beautiful.
“It’s my natural color.” Her big green eyes hold mine and in that moment, her meaning becomes clear.
She’s not hiding anymore.
“I’m so proud of you.”