Chapter 5
FIVE
SAVANNAH
I will Brodie to say something. Anything.
But specifically the kind of thing someone says to make you feel better.
Because even though I’m nowhere close to forgiving him, I’m ready to build the flimsiest of reconciliation bridges if he says it will all be okay.
That I haven’t royally messed up by not telling my dad what I’ve done.
“What the fuck, Savannah?”
Oh. Not quite the comforting words I’m looking for. My neck locks.
Brodie swipes his hand through his hair, making it stick up on end. I have to sit on my own hands to stop myself from reaching out and smoothing it down.
He shakes his head. “Sav, this isn’t neglecting to tell him you’ve booked a vacation to Hawaii. You’ve dropped out of grad school. And become a fucking firefighter.”
I look away. He’s right. Of course he’s right.
They’re the exact same thoughts that have kept me wide awake and riddled with anxiety for more nights than I care to remember.
But it’s not that straightforward. Not with Dad’s vision for my future already set in stone.
And definitely not after how we lost Mom.
I raise my chin. Defiant. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Dad’s moved to Toronto full time now, and he’s had a lot on his plate with his telecoms merger.
” I hear my voice waver and double down in an attempt to settle it.
“And it’s not like I’m never telling him. I’m just waiting for the right time.”
“So when’s that? In ten years? When aliens land from Mars?
When you’re injured on the job and he gets a call from the ER?
” Brodie grabs at his coffee mug but doesn’t drink, punctuating his words by waving it in the air.
“Or maybe when you’re having a feature written about you for one of the newspapers he owns. Maybe now’s the right fucking time.”
“Enough. What happened to pretending we’ve only just met? You have no right to judge me on any level, Brodie, but if we were meeting for the first time, you wouldn’t be talking to me like this.”
“But Savannah, this is messy as fuck. He’s gonna go ballistic.”
“Forget it. Forget all of it.” My heart beats like a jackhammer.
I know I’m overreacting, but I can’t stop myself. Not with Brodie’s eyes seeing all the way inside me. And especially not when his take is precisely the one I’ve been internally burying since ditching my thesis to run into burning buildings.
When I started out on this path, I planned on telling Dad once I’d passed basic training.
When that came and went, I told myself I’d share the news at the end of my first day.
That became my first week. First month. And now I’ve set the goal of telling him once I’ve completed probation.
Problem is, the longer I’ve left it, the greater the mountain to scale.
I’m struggling to even imagine telling him now.
So the very last thing I need is someone belting my mistake home.
And definitely not someone I’m having so many head-scrambling feelings about.
I shove my chair back.
“Woah, don’t go. Please. I—”
“Your half hour’s up.” I clutch at my coat. “You said you’d walk away no arguments, so we’re done. It’s time to walk away. Goodbye, Brodie.” I dash to the door.
It’s possible he calls after me. I maybe even catch the sound of his chair scraping across the floor. Part of me is expecting—not hoping, definitely not hoping—to find him chasing after me. I stop a block from Frank’s, glancing over my shoulder.
He isn’t there.
Good. Great, actually.
I don’t need to hear another apology.
Or suffer more of him calling me out over my father when it’s none of his damn business.
And I certainly don’t need to be lured back in by his smile. Or distracting eyebrow. Or annoyingly messy hair. In fact, this is all perfect. I gave him his time, we both got closure, and I can now return my focus to my other issues, aka my dad. Yep. Totally wonderfully perfect.
Wrapping my coat tight, I take off, using the word perfect to punctuate every step of the four blocks uphill to my apartment. And I’m so wired from all that’s just happened, I practically sprint, gasping for air by the time I reach the gleaming Art Deco sunshine motif of my building’s front door.
Jamming my key into the lock, I dart up the two flights of stairs like a woman on a mission. The corridors smell of fresh laundry and old carpets, but it’s not until I’m safely ensconced in mine and Nix’s two-bed walkup that I eventually let myself take a proper breath.
Slumping against the wall, I dip my head and close my eyes, my lungs burning.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck and I shrug my coat free, dumping it on one of the weird hooks Nix bought on Etsy.
Shaped like four gold hands, their fingers positioned in different gestures to hold our coats.
I choose the bird and then steel myself for one moment more before the interrogation begins.
I get around ten seconds.
“That was quick. How did it go?” Nix’s no-nonsense teacher voice rings out.
I shuffle through to the living room, where she’s curled up on the couch in booty shorts, an adorable strawberry-print sweater, and cute-as-they-come pink ankle socks. Even her loungewear is fire.
She peers up from the MacBook balanced on her lap and her smile vanishes. “Oh. Guessing things didn’t go as planned.”
I’ve known Nix—Phoenix Lulu thanks to her hippie parents—since day one in high school, when we bonded over our lack of mothers. There’s no pretending anything between us anymore.
I collapse next to her with a sigh.
She scooches over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “What did the asshole do? Tell me everything and then I’ll hunt him down.” Always the first to come to my defense. Basically, the perfect best friend.
I manage a small smile. “It was awful.”
“Please tell me he apologized at least. Like, really fucking apologized.”
“Yeah, he apologized.”
“And did he mean it, or was it just for show?”
I blink and see the sincerity in Brodie’s face as he shared his regret. His eyes communicating a million unspoken thoughts direct to my heart. “He meant it.”
“Okay, progress. So what went wrong?”
“We talked a little. It started out okay. He’s been living on Barclay the last couple of years.” I freeze. “Oh god, his apartment’s probably on my running route. I could have bumped into him at any time.” I look at Nix, dead serious. “We can’t stay here. We have to move.”
“Let’s not make any hasty decisions.” She chuckles, tucking a lock of glossy dark hair behind her ear. “So, he apologized and you talked about where you live. Have to be honest, none of this is sounding awful.”
I drop my head to my hands. “I just hate him, okay?”
“Absolutely. Because…?”
“Because he’s an asshole.”
“Okay. Because…?” She squeezes my shoulder. “Look, we can totally hate on him forever for what happened, but that was three years ago, and you’ve been super vocal about how you’ve moved on. Which leaves me wondering if there’s something else he’s done today to make you hate him all over again.”
Bless her patience.
I wring my hands together like the movement will make me open up. And be honest. With Nix, and myself. “He got mad when I told him that Dad doesn’t know I’ve dropped out of grad school.”
“He got mad?”
“He was all like…” I sniff in a breath and put on my best Brodie voice, all deep and annoyingly husky. “‘This is messy as fuck, Savannah. He’s gonna go ballistic.’”
Nix laughs again, warm brown eyes sparkling. “I’d forgotten he has that whole sexy voice thing going on, but guess it matches the look he’s cultivated since college. All grown-up Clark Kent glasses and razor-cut abs.”
I shoot an alarmed glance at her laptop.
She turns the screen to face me. “Ms. Google has been very distracting. I haven’t done any planning for next week’s classes because holy hell, even Brodie’s LinkedIn is smokin’.”
I stare at the screen, suddenly so hot I need to sit in the fridge.
Reaching over, I snap the laptop shut. “You know LinkedIn shares who’s looked at profiles? He’ll think we’re stalking him.”
“I’ve got you, babe. Used my fake log-in for when I’m cross-checking Tinder.
” She slides her laptop to the coffee table.
“And you’re right. We absolutely need to move.
Pay someone on the crew a mega sum to take your place on the feature.
File a request to change fire halls immediately.
I’ll get onto Craigslist to find us a new apartment, maybe out in Kamloops.
Operation ‘Avoid Brodie Heart-Stoppingly Gorgeous Asshole Holt’ is in full effect. ”
I inch away. Not the perfect best friend after all. “Not fair, Nix. Be serious. Please.”
“I’m sorry.” She purses her always perfect crimson lips as if weighing up the situation.
“Listen, removing his smokin’ hotness and assholery from the equation, you’ve got to admit Brodie has a valid point about your dad.
Especially with this whole newspaper feature thing.
You can’t keep your firefighter life a secret forever if you and your fire helmet are starring in one of his papers. ”
I huff out a sigh. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. But I’m also right on this, which is why you’re all tied in a knot.” She leans forward, taking my hands in hers. “So, what happened after Brodie annoyed the hell out of you because he’s right and you’re not ready to hear that yet?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
I shrug. “I left.”
“Like, politely said goodbye and left, or stormed out all feisty?” She knows the answer to her question. I can tell by the way her mouth is turned up at the corner.
“Said goodbye…” I pick at a fingernail. “And then stormed out. Kinda feisty.”
She shakes her head. “Savannah-Jean Archer, when will you learn?”
“What?”
“Running away from problems doesn’t solve them. What happens when Brodie next rocks up at Hall Eight?”
“He won’t.”
“But what about the feature? He’s agreed not to do it?”
The back of my throat stings. “He said he’d walk away if I asked. His terms.”
“And your grand exit involved you asking him to walk away?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So that’s it. You won’t be seeing him again?”
Something that feels uncomfortably like reality punches me in the gut. “Guess so.” My lower lip wobbles and tears prick at my eyes.
Nix scoots closer. “Oh, babe. I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I shouldn’t be joking about Brodie’s hotness. It must have been really hard, seeing him again and then walking away.” She tucks my head onto her shoulder, her voice instantly sincere as she rocks me back and forth.
Slamming my eyelids shut, I will the tears not to fall. “It’s just been a lot. Being asked to do the article. The fact it’s for the Herald.”
“Yep. And seeing Brodie is a whole additional complication you didn’t need.”
“Exactly.” I tug myself free, wiping at my eyes.
“I’ve been through too much to fall apart over this, Nix.
And there’s too much at stake. I should be strong enough to not give Brodie a passing thought, but one oat milk latte and a puppy-dog apology and I’ve been hit with a tsunami of every Brodie-infused emotion possible.
” I squeeze my arms tight around my chest, dropping my voice to a whisper.
“And to make it worse, there’s a part of me that I’m desperately trying to keep really, really tiny who doesn’t want Brodie walking away at all.
Who wants to believe his apologies and forgive him.
And I really fucking hate myself for that. ”
“Aw, Sav babe. You’re being way too harsh on yourself.
Of course you’re conflicted. Brodie disappeared.
He broke it off with you and vanished, making it super hard for you to move on.
And now he’s reappeared completely out of the blue, smack bang in the new world you’ve worked so hard to carve out.
It’s confusing as hell.” She shimmies back to my side, hugging me again.
“And for the record, even after the number he did on you, it’s totally okay to still have feelings for him.
You and Brodie were everything when you were together. ”
Another wave of emotion threatens to spill. “I don’t know if I can handle this, Nix. Telling Dad what I’ve done already felt impossible, but now I don’t even get to choose how and when. And I’m having to go through all this in front of Brodie.”
“Then don’t do the article. Put yourself first for a change and say no to the cap.
He has a fire hall full of firefighters.
Let one of them do the extra fucking work.
” She holds me for one more moment and then grabs her laptop.
“Look, we can’t magic away all your Brodie feelings but there are some things we can solve.
We just need a plan. Watertight, like the kind I put in place for teaching drama to the eight-year-olds.
” She begins tapping away, all riled up and determined.
“A plan for what?”
“A plan for you ditching this damn feature. All the reasons why the cap needs to choose someone else.”