1. Pushed Him Away
PUSHED HIM AWAY
Thirteen Years Later
The alarms blared, Ash Ridgeway and the rest of his crew ran to their gear, suited up and were in the firetrucks racing out of the station.
The sirens screamed as they drove through town, cars moving aside, him hanging on.
A mile away, on a dead-end street, a car was fully engulfed in flames. The blue and red flashing lights of the police car kept bystanders back.
The firetruck halted, the hoses were hooked up to the hydrant not too far away, then he was running toward the fire.
Dropping to his knee, the hose tucked under his arm, both hands with a death grip, he pulled the lever back and aimed right into the flames in the front of the car, under the hood, and spreading to the front seat.
Please don’t let anyone be inside.
Another hose was hitting it from behind, trying to stop the spread.
Fifteen minutes later, his body was tense, his muscles were screaming, but the fire was under control.
He stood up, the cramping in his thigh nothing he hadn’t felt before. Shutting off the stream of water, he brought the hose back, unhooked it from the hydrant and rolled it up.
He lifted the shield on his helmet, unhooked his oxygen mask and let it fall away so he could speak.
The captain on shift was checking the car out, the fire inspector next to him. Ash made his way to his best friend’s older brother by the police car, who was keeping the crowd back.
“Hey, Tate.”
“Ash. You got to be the lucky one for this.”
“Mild in the scheme of things.”
He’d rather battle this any day than a house fire.
“True.”
“Who called this in? The owner of the car?”
The facts would come out at some point, but since he was here and close to Tate, might as well chat.
“Not the owner. Not sure whose car it is yet. Pretty beat up on top of it. A neighbor said it’s been sitting there for a few days.”
“And no one called it in as odd?”
Tate looked around the area. “Not the best neighborhood. They probably wanted to mind their own business.”
His eyes scanned the rundown apartments with sheets and blankets in the windows, the rusted cars parked out front on the lawn and in the road.
“Most likely.”
“Tate!”
Ash turned his head, his jaw dropping, his smile going wide.
“Skye,” Tate said. “What are you doing here?”
Tate reached for his sister, Skye Murphy. No. Skye Lancaster now.
When her parents had died in a house fire their sophomore year of high school, the Lancasters took her in like they had other foster kids.
But they adopted Skye as one of their own. Like they had four other kids.
The girl who once held his teenage heart had grown up during her years away, first at college, then working.
Now Tate was lifting Skye’s petite body and giving her a hug, her feet off the ground before Tate released her.
Ash wanted to do the same.
She wouldn’t let him, he was positive.
No matter how much he wanted to get close to her, before her parents passed and after, she’d pushed him away.
It was hard when he’d been in the Lancaster house so much as a kid, and her brothers were often on his family’s farm.
He didn’t take it to heart though. He couldn’t.
“I’m writing a story,” Skye said. She had her phone up to her brother’s face. “Who called it in? What can you tell me about this? Is it like the other car fire last week?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Tate said. “I can’t give you anything just yet and you know it.”
“Be a good sport,” she said, shoving at her brother’s arm. Then she turned to Ash. “What can you add—”
“Hi, Skye,” he said, the smirk filling his face.
The surprise in her blue eyes was clear as day.
His ego could stand the hit that she hadn’t recognized him right away.
“Ash? Is that you?”
“It is,” he said, his fingers itching to reach out and touch her. Hold her. Anything.
She wouldn’t want that. She never did.
“Wow. I didn’t know you were a fireman. What can you tell me about this car fire?”
Her phone got shoved in his face.
“Sorry,” he said, keeping his grin in place. “Take that up with my boss. I’m just a worker bee.”
He laughed, turned and walked away, fighting the urge to stay where he was.
To get lost in her cheerful voice, happy eyes, and relaxed stance.
It’d been a long time since he’d witnessed any of that from her.
Long before she went to live with the Lancasters.
Maybe elementary school.
They grew up together. He always had his eye on her in their small town, but she never had it back.
Nothing more than friends early on.
Then things changed with her as she got older. Her laughter was less. Her wariness grew.
He’d heard the rumors. That things weren’t great in her house.
They probably never were.
But it’d never been his place to ask. To question. To offer help even when he wanted to.
He did in his own way. By trying to make her laugh, like he did to everyone.
“Get anything from Tate?” Bruce asked. Bruce and he had been on the same crew for years.
“Nah. You know how it goes.”
“I’m betting anything this is like the other one. Which isn’t good,” Bruce said, looking at the charred remains of the car.
“Yeah. Tell me about it.”
The last thing they needed was an arsonist in the area. Someone going around starting cars on fire.
Last week, it was paper in the hood of a car, shoved through the grille.
If the same info came about this one, they were going to have their hands full and panic on top of it.
“Pull it in, everyone.”
Ash and Bruce turned, climbed back onto the truck and took off for the station, his mind still on the girl he’d once wished was his.
“Burn, baby, burn,” he murmured, the words breathed out like a prayer.
He’d hoped for more this time. Something louder, brighter, something that answered him. A spectacle of sorts. Maybe a bang. A nice, huge one!
This place was usually loud with noise and action, yet people here minded their own business. They looked away. They pretended they didn’t see what didn’t concern them.
Apparently not today.
Sirens had wailed in the distance faster than he’d expected. He smiled anyway. That was fine. It still gave him time. Time to watch.
Time to see how they did their job.
That last one. It was lit and he was gone, waiting to read about it the next day.
Tonight people were gathering at a cautious distance, voices were sharp with worry, eyes searching the smoke for shapes that shouldn’t be there. Someone would ask the question soon enough. Was anyone inside?
No. Not this time.
This wasn’t the ending. It was the beginning. Just a spark. Still a second test run.
He lingered a moment longer, the warmth brushing his skin, satisfaction settling deep in his chest as he pushed the hat down on his head more.
There was still time and plenty of it.