It Burns Within Us | Wildfire Series Book 1

T H I R T Y - T W O

M A D I E

November Sixteenth

Four

What is freedom, really?

Is it in what you do?

Or is it in how you feel?

—

I tried not to stare at Bren on our way to dinner, but I couldn't get over his little v-neck sweater and fitted black pants. Who was this boy, and what had he done with Bren Hadaway, perpetual hoodie and ripped jeans-wearer, emo-boy extraordinaire. Where was the boy who I thought made thirst trap TikToks—and then asked him about it the second time we ever spoke?

The minute I spouted that I should have known I was hopelessly attracted to him. There was certainly no denying now that I wanted Bren in a way I'd never experienced before, and it was making me rethink everything.

Bren was the sweetness I never knew existed in a man. He was the humbleness that I honestly didn't think anyone possessed. He was the quiet strength that I needed. And goddamnit, he was hot.

Even though he was driving me a bit crazy today, trying to dictate whether or not I could handle shopping or dinner—whether or not I could handle us.

I could handle it.

He was too good. He'd always been too good, caring and worrying too much about everything. It was the only reason I couldn't actually be upset about his stubbornness. But Bren also thought I wasn't ready to move on from what had happened with Quinton. And about that, he was wrong.

Today was all about proving it. I wanted to show him I wasn't as broken and weak as he apparently thought. I could go shopping on my own. I could go out to dinner and laugh, smile, and dance like all the other glassy, bright girls of California.

Maybe if he saw that, if he saw me as normal, we could skip everything else. We could skip the conversation that Bren kept trying to have about what had happened in Quinton's dorm room, what had happened for months leading up to it, and what had happened in the dead of night, in the hospital when my heart truly broke for the first time. When I'd said goodbye.

Bren didn't need to know that. He just needed to know that I was ready for him. Maybe it seemed crazy. Maybe it seemed rushed. But to me, it seemed like we'd been dancing around this for far too long, and now I just wanted to dance in it.

"You sure you're good?" he asked after parking outside the white, stucco building, which sat atop the sea cliff.

"It's almost been a month, Bren. I'm okay." I tried to give him a reassuring smile. He returned it, except his look included a slow perusal of my dress, reminding me of how he'd looked at me last night—last night when his fingers stroked me. When he touched me everywhere, just like I'd asked him to.