Wildfire: A Novel (The Maple Hills Series)

“I told you he’s a good guy.”

Henry doesn’t say anything else as he drops into the seat beside me with his breakfast. Russ’s friends stayed in a B&B in Meadow Springs last night, but Orla said they could visit before leaving as long as they still had their visitor lanyards and it was during cabin inspection.

I concentrate on my toast, suddenly feeling nervous to have one-on-one time with Russ’s best friend. I mean, technically we’ve had one-on-one time before, but that was when I was unknowingly ditching Russ post hook up. “I know you did. I never thought he wasn’t.”

We both watch Russ at the table across from ours while we eat in silence. He’s laughing with Robbie and Mattie, two guys who made it their mission to get to know me better last night. I’ve tried to keep a safe distance, not wanting to smother him or overcrowd him when his friends are here, but it’s hard when I naturally just want to be near him.

The loud buzz of multiple conversations happening fills the silence, until Henry slices through it, catching me off guard. “My room is next to Russ’s room in our house. It isn’t soundproof, so please don’t treat it like it is.”

I almost choke on my veggie bacon. “Sorry?”

“I imagine you’re going to visit a lot. I’d rather not hear you come, sorry.” I expect him to start laughing or give me some indication he’s joking around, but he looks entirely serious.

“I, uhm . . .” I am not the girl that stumbles over her words. I am the rambler. I am the oversharer. I am lost for words. “I promise to try my hardest to not put you through that.”

“He told me you know how shitty his dad is to him.”

“Yeah.”

“You know more in six weeks than some of our friends have found out in two years.” When he puts it like that, it makes me value even more how much Russ has trusted me with. “He doesn’t know how much everyone loves him. He only ever assumes the worst and jumps to the worst conclusions, sometimes you’ll need to spell the good out to him.”

I don’t say it to Henry, but I know exactly what he means. Russ and I would have started on a much more friendly foot if he hadn’t wrongly assumed I’d feel uncomfortable around him. “You’re a good friend, Henry.”

“Russ deserves good friends.”

We spend the rest of breakfast talking about some photographs Henry took of their B&B and the surrounding landscape for him to attempt to do try some new paintings techniques when he gets home and, by the time everyone is leaving, I feel like Henry will remember me as the girl who likes his friend and not the girl he bumped into that night.

Having seven painfully attractive strangers here has caused mayhem . Everyone is horny and acting a little chaotic. I’m okay though, because a painfully attractive man makes me feel horny and chaotic daily, so I’m used to it.

Maya and I work hard to keep the kids busy and burn off all their excess energy by swapping our morning schedule of arts and crafts for a treasure hunt—much to Jenna and her program spreadsheet’s dismay—but Russ and Clay lose our map with all the treasure locations and the whole thing takes three times as long.

The hunt does the trick and by the time our post-lunch quiet hour arrives, everyone is a lot more chilled than they were a few hours ago, but Maya is losing her voice from shouting all morning. My voice remains undefeated.

I’m hanging out with the other counselors in the shade on the picnic bench outside the Brown Bears cabin, when Xander clears his throat. “I have an announcement to make.” I think he’s waiting for some kind of dramatic reaction, but nobody says anything. “Emilia and I have decided to part over creative differences.”

“Gimme a clue,” Maya says, squinting at him as she shields the sun from her eyes.

“You’re so goddamn dramatic,” Emilia groans. “The talent show. Xander is going to do his own thing because we can’t agree on anything.”

“Is this because she said you couldn’t win American Idol?” Clay asks. “Nobody sounds good singing campfire songs, bro. Don’t take it to heart.”

My jaw drops. “No. Absolutely not. We’re a team.” Every other counselor group has said they’re going to work out an act the day before, because it’s not that serious. Fuck that, I want my group to be the best. That’s why I’ve been trying to get everyone organized for weeks. It’s not my fault I’m not creative enough to come up with an idea myself. “You can’t do it on your own, Xan. That’s super sad and lonely. You need us.”

“I’m not. I have Russ.” He pats Russ on the back and Russ looks up, suddenly alert.

“Sorry, what’s happening?”

“Creative differences. Talent show. Dog tricks. Come on, man, I told you like an hour ago,” Xander says, blocking out Emilia with his hand when she starts laughing at dog tricks.

“I didn’t realize you wanted me to join you! If Xander gets to leave the group, can I just not participate?”

“No!” Xander and I snap at the same time.

“You promised,” I remind him.

He rolls his eyes. “Was worth a try.”

Several high-pitched screams ring out from the kids cabin and Maya and Clay jump to their feet. “I swear to God, if Michael has brought in another frog, I’m going to make him sleep by the lake,” Maya grumbles.

As soon as they’re gone, Russ moves closer to me, leaning against his hand at an angle that blocks out Emilia and Xander from our conversation. “I won’t go with Xander if you don’t want me to. I know how important this is to you.”

I want to kiss him. I always want to kiss him. Sighing overdramatically, I place my hand on the table next to his elbow so I can gently brush my finger against his arm. “It’s fine. I don’t want Xander to be on his own and I don’t want you to be unhappy. It’s not a big deal. Now that Emilia has no opposition, we’ll definitely be dancing.”

“I’d be happy if I was dancing with you,” he says quietly. “You’d make it worth it.”

The horde of butterflies all flap at once. “Go with Xander.”

“You’re the best,” he says nudging me with his knee. “Are you doing anything tonight after we clock off?” I shake my head, mind immediately running with a thousand different possibilities. “Don’t make plans. We’re going on a date.”

The evening is painfully slow in comparison to the afternoon and I spend my entire night clock watching, waiting to see what my first ever date is going to be.

Shortly after the kids are ushered to bed, Russ appears looking concerned, which immediately puts me on edge. I’m in comfortable clothes, like he told me to be when he left earlier, but having zero idea what’s going on is not my idea of fun. “We have a slight problem,” he says as he approaches me, stopping far enough away so that we don’t look over-friendly.

“What is it?”

“We need to sign out at the front office and it’ll look suspicious if we’re both signed out together.”

“We’ve done it before?”

“Not at night. You gotta admit that looks sus.”

He’s right, as much as I don’t want to admit it. I don’t even know what he has planned but I’m nervous and excited and I don’t want him to say we can’t go. “There’s a path that starts near the back of the kitchen that leads to a dirt track a few minutes’ drive away. I could sneak out, but you have to promise to not snitch on me because unlike you who’s breaking the rules left and right, I’m trying to repair my image.”

He rolls his eyes and his dimples appear as he fights a smile. “Is it safe?”

“Yeah, it’s an evacuation route that they put in decades ago. I’ll need a flashlight.”

He throws his truck keys at me. “I don’t want you walking in the dark. Don’t check the back or you’ll ruin the surprise.”

The excitement and nerves eat away at me as I keep a straight face signing out at the front office. When I’m safely in Russ’s truck, that’s when I give up fighting it. I keep the headlights on as I wait the five minutes it takes for him to find me and, as he jogs up to the fence line, I try not to drool when he jumps over it with ease.

Is everything he does hot or am I just easily impressed? One of life’s great questions.

Opening the driver’s door, he slides me along the seat and positions himself in front of the wheel. “I don’t even want to know how you know that barely-there path leads to here, trouble.”

“Am I trouble or am I an explorer?”

He throws an arm over the back of the seat as he looks over his shoulder to reverse up the dirt track back to the road. Again, hot or easily impressed? His hand twirls the ends of my hair and the definitive answer is hot. Definitely, definitely hot.

“Trouble. One hundred percent.”

There’s no one else on the roads this late at night but Russ concentrates as he follows the bend, one hand resting on my thigh, tapping the tune of the song playing in the car.

The song changes to an up-and-coming rock band Poppy likes, who are starting to get radio play. I bought Poppy and Emilia tickets to their LA show in a few months, but before I can tell Russ that, he changes the station. “You don’t like Take Back December?”

“Not really,” he lifts his hand from my thigh to rub along his jaw line. “It’s my brother’s band.”

Oh my God. “Your brother Ethan is Ethan Callaghan? How did I not spot that before? Emilia’s girlfriend loves TBD.”

“Yup.” He doesn’t sound very pleased about that fact and, after what I’ve learned about his relationship with his family, I’m not surprised.

He takes a right down an old track, taking the opportunity to look at me for a split second before putting his hand back on my thigh. “Your brother is famous, but you don’t want to go pro because you don’t want to be famous? As someone with a family –especially my sister—always in the press, you sometimes have no choice.”

“You’re not the only person to point that out to me recently, funnily enough. Ethan isn’t really famous though.” He squeezes my thigh, which I think was supposed to be a comfort, but I feel it everywhere. “Should we tell everyone we’re only children?”

“Definitely, but I’m a bit concerned it won’t matter anyway, since you appear to be taking me somewhere to murder me and bury my body in a field . . .” The truck throws us around a little as we drive over the uneven ground in the direction of an old, derelict building. “Where the hell are we? I am not fucking you in that haunted house if that’s your plan.”

He snorts as he puts the truck into park. “I thought you knew every inch of Honey Acres, Ms. Explorer,” he teases, taking the keys out of the ignition.

“I do. This is not Honey Acres. We are almost definitely trespassing.”

We both climb out and I walk around to his side, still totally confused about what we’re doing here. As soon as I’m close enough he bends to kiss me, reviving the butterflies that are now a permanent addition to my body. “I thought trespassing would be exciting for you.”

“Trespassing in a hotel to make yourself a midnight snack, yes. Trespassing in a field is how you end up with a gunshot wound.”

“We’re on Orla’s land, I promise. I found this place on a run and I checked when I got back to camp. We’re not that far away, it just takes longer to get here by vehicle, since I can’t drive through fences.” He laughs and takes my hand, walking us to the back of his truck. “I just realized people don’t kiss at the start of a first date.”

“You can drive through fences . . . but people yell at you when you go to apologize and they make your parents pay for the damage.” His eyebrow rightfully rises. “Anyway . . . I haven’t been on a first date before, so I don’t know the rules. Which is probably a red flag for you because why would I be un-dated at twenty unless it’s because I’m really annoying, which I am, and, well, we might get charged at by cows tonight or eaten by wolves or something, so I’d rather kiss at the start than not kiss at all. I need to stop talking. I’m doing that thing that you make me do where I j—”

He stops at the back of the truck, nudging my chin up with his knuckle to close my mouth. “I know you’re the English major, but un-dated isn’t a word, sweetheart.”

“I feel like it is.” He ignores me and opens the tailgate, pulling off a white sheet, revealing cushions and quilts, a cool box and the battery pack powered projector we sometimes use for outdoor movie night. “Oh my goodness.”

Lifting me onto the tailgate, he leans in and kisses me again. Slow, gentle, perfect. “I haven’t been on a first date before either.”

I’m stunned into silence as Russ helps me get comfortable on the makeshift bed, handing me a Thermos of hot chocolate and a bag of popcorn. He positions the projector on top of the truck, pointing it at the side wall of the creepy house, and that’s when it hits me how much effort he’s put into this.

I’m not a crier, but this man might just make my eyes water a little. He throws another blanket on top of me and finally sits down, getting under the covers too. “Comfortable? Warm enough?” he asks.

“Everything is perfect.” The wall turns blue as the Disney castle appears followed by the Pixar lamp and as soon as Gusteau’s restaurant appears on the tiny television, my heart just about explodes. He’s thought of everything. “Ratatouille! Russ, you’re perfect. Like dream guy perfect. You’re too good to be real.”

My honesty catches him off guard and beneath the glow of the moon, I watch all the emotions run across his face. I’ve always known I need validation like I need air and, although I don’t think he’s exactly the same, we are very similar.

People have made us feel like we’re less than we are and those opinions are buried deep in us both, like weeds. Every drop of self-doubt waters the soil and once they start to grow it feels impossible to stop. But it isn’t impossible, it just takes someone to rip them out by the root, over and over if needed.

We’re so different and yet so similar and part of me is starting to believe that’s the perfect mix.

His hand reaches toward me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Tell me a secret.”

“I don’t want to go back to reality next month. I want to stay here with you and the dogs and throw our cellphones into the fire.” He laughs quietly, his hand massaging the back of my neck while I ramble. “I’ll open my bookstore and you can open your bowling store or build robots or whatever engineers do—they can protect us from the possums and the wolves I guess. But you’ll choose me and I’ll choose you and we’ll be happy without anyone else ruining it.”

“You are the brightest thing in my life, Aurora,” he says. “And you’re a living reminder of the good things that can happen when I let myself be happy.”

Part of me wonders if I’d let someone in before now, could I have avoided a lot of the unhappiness I’ve dealt with, but I think the answer is no. I’d have still been doing the same reckless things as before, bouncing from emotional overload to the next, desperately seeking something more. I’d never have made someone happy and the chances are, after the initial buzz of their attention wore off, I’d be lost again.

Russ makes me feel content, the one thing I didn’t realize I needed.

We shuffle closer, sinking deeper into the blankets, facing each other, totally ignoring the cartoon rat being projected onto the wall. “You tell me a secret,” I whisper.

“It’s not a secret because a lot of people know about it, but can I tell you about something bad that happened to me? Something I really hate talking about?”

“Of course.” I’m patient while he awkwardly shuffles around, clearly delaying things. His leg slips between mine, hand rests on the curve of my waist and, just when I think he’s about to start talking, he leans in and kisses me instead. Breaking us apart, I rest my forehead against his. “I’m still going to be here to kiss you when you’re done sharing,” I say softly.

“Did you hear about the hockey rink getting trashed at the start of the year?”

“I think so, maybe? Didn’t you guys have to share the other rink or something?”

“Yeah. Well, it was my fault.”

My jaw almost unhinges itself. “You trashed a hockey rink?”

“No! Of course not. I, uhm, I met this girl, Leah, at a party and she was nice to me. I’d gone with some guys I lived with. Leah kissed me, we messed around a bit, not all the way.”

Someone tell me why I’m jealous. “Then every party I went to, Leah was there and we ended up hooking up a few times. I liked her and I thought maybe, just maybe, sophomore year wouldn’t be trash and I could have some happiness. Next thing I know I’ve got her boyfriend in my DMs threatening me. They’d been fighting or whatever, she’d been using me to get back at him.”

“I’m so sorry she did that to you.”

“Oh, it gets so much worse.” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “This thing between her and her boyfriend was super toxic, one of those relationships everyone loves to hate. So when she found out she was pregnant”—what the fuck—“she told her older brother, who’s a hockey player at UCLA, that she’d been ghosted. I’d blocked her when I found out about the boyfriend. She wouldn’t give them my name, just that it was someone on my team thinking that’d be the end of it, but it wasn’t. They trashed the rink.”

“Oh, Russ.”

“I wanted to drop out because of it; I was so embarrassed. If Nate hadn’t literally held my hand through it, I would have. It was bad enough when I thought it had been trashed because of her boyfriend but this was so, so much worse. Everyone was talking about it, I had to go to meetings about it until it was proven I hadn’t done anything. It was a fucking mess.”

“You have no reason to feel embarrassed! You’re the victim in all of this. You didn’t do anything other than hook up with a girl at a party and there’s nothing wrong with that. You could have hooked up with every girl at that party, it still doesn’t make someone using you as a scapegoat okay.”

“That’s what Stassie and Lola say, but I haven’t been able to shake the guilt. When I’m on campus, I’m wondering if people are thinking about it when they see me. I hate having to play UCLA knowing that’s what they’ll all be thinking about.”

“I hate that this has been eating at you. When something happens it feels so huge to you, but that’s because it’s happening to you, but in reality, most people don’t know or care. If everyone was talking about it like you feel like they are, I’d already know everything. I just heard there was some damage. Nothing about you.”

“You really didn’t know?”

“No! I promise I didn’t. But someone took advantage of you, Russ. You gotta stop punishing yourself for it.” I stroke his face with my thumb and he kisses the palm of my hand. “If you overthink it, you won’t be able to move on. So what, a rink got trashed? It’s not like somebody died! Do you know how much stuff I’ve trashed by accident?”

“Some fence lines I’d guess.”

“That wasn’t an accident.” I roll my eyes, leaning in closer. “But my point remains. You’re a great person, your friends love you and the dogs love you. That’s all I think about when I think of you. How easy you are to l— like.”

“I don’t know why I’m bringing it up now. I’m sorry, have I fucked up our first date already?” His eyes shut and he sighs, sinking further into the pillows.

Sometimes I want to shake this man, because he doesn’t realize how happy him handing over those pieces of himself he keeps so tight to his chest makes me.

“You voluntarily sharing something that’s personal to you makes this the best date, Russ. I promise. Thank you for trusting me with the full story.”

His eyes open slowly. “Can I have that post-sharing kiss you promised now, please?”

I can’t help but smile as I lean in. “Of course.”