We Fall Like Ashes | Wildfire Series

Twenty-Three: Come Back

It could have been worse. That was what I kept telling myself about being home alone on Christmas.

And it was true. I watched Elf over FaceTime with my brother, Cameron, and I listened to my mom play White Christmas on the piano. Then I FaceTimed with Mia, who took over my spot at Directions, and I got to see a handful of kids who were spending Christmas with their second family. Reese's face was entirely covered by cookie frosting by the time the phone made it to him, and it made my heart swell up.

The last few years, that was where I had been. With them at St. Peter's Cathedral. And it was what I told my mom and brother I would be doing tonight, so they didn't worry. I actually thought about breaking the rule I made for myself and going back to Fresno to see everyone, but somehow I managed to stay put.

The apartment was cozy. Before leaving for Mammoth Lakes, Beau, Nessa, and I had put up a fake tree, decorating it with whatever ornaments were on clearance. It was mismatched and eclectic, and I loved it. I never really bothered putting up a tree when I lived by myself. I had nothing against Christmas trees, but they seemed like a lot of work for something that would have to be taken down a couple weeks later. And it wasn't like anything ever went underneath it.

Crossing the living room, I went to stand by the window, hating how the floorboards creaked. It made me feel that much more...alone for some reason. The alley behind our duplex was quiet, empty. And everything outside was brown.

Never thought I would say it, but I missed the snow. I missed being in the mountains. I missed Beau. And Nessa and Grayson, Bren and Madie.

But if I was honest with myself...I mostly missed Beau.

It felt sad, the way we'd parted. But it was for the best. Beau made it clear when he'd pulled me off him in the hot tub that he didn't want to be led on. And so what other choice did I have then to walk away the next morning?

Beau gave me butterflies that I couldn't chase.

In another life, I would have said yes. I would have followed my fluttering feelings, gone home with him for Christmas. Even though it scared the shit out of me to think about it, I would have gladly jumped at the opportunity to see where he was from, meet his parents, spend any extra few days with him. In another life, I wouldn't have cared that those things seemed so coupley. Because in another life, I think maybe we could have been a couple.

But I was stuck in this life.

The life where I'd killed someone. I killed my best friend's dad. And his family had the power to snap the neck on all my dreams, all my goals, all my everything if they wanted to.

A life for a life, I supposed. Sometimes I wondered if this really was what I deserved.

I heard the creaking of the front porch before the knock on the door. I froze, a chill washing over me.

Who the hell?

Striding from the window to the front door, I winced when, once again, the floor shifted beneath my feet. Stilling, I hoped to some fucking higher power that whoever was outside hadn't heard that. But I quickly realized I wasn't going to be so lucky.

"Collins!"

Jesus Christ, it was Denver. How the hell had he found me?

"I know you're in there," he yelled. "I heard you walking around, and your car is out front."

Goddamnit. My stomach dropped into my gut, a wrenching feeling at hearing his voice. It was gruff, a little bit low, and scratchy. It was a voice that had comforted me on so many nights, and was it wrong that tonight, sitting here alone on Christmas, I ached for that voice? That a little bit of me was healed by hearing that voice?