Page 16 of He Falls First
“Not really, “I say straight. “I just like listening to you talk about it.”
She laughs, and my heart kicks against my ribs. It hurts not to hold her against me. How can someone so sweet hurt so much to look at? I don’t always have all the answers to all the questions, but hell, I know the answer to that one—the ache won’t subside until I know she’s mine.
“Well, what do you wanna know about me?” Briar asks.
Here we go. My favorite subject.
“What’s your major in school?”
“History, with an emphasis on art and architecture. I’m hoping I can afford to stay in school to get my master’s degree.”
I nod, thinking about this. “So that explains an internship at a place like that. It’s weird to think that that a castle even exists here.”
“I can understand that,” she replies. “And I’ve never known a firefighter before. Have you always wanted to be one?”
I tell her that no, I never thought about it until I took one of those tests that the guidance counselor gave me in high school. “It said I was inclined to help people, so I should pursue a careerin medicine. But there’s no way I could go to nursing or medical school. I wanted to get to work as soon as possible. So, the Fate fire department paid for my training in exchange for working there for at least four years. Now, eight years later, I’m one of two paid employees of the department. I hope to end up being chief someday.”
“I can attest that you are very good at helping people,” Briar says, her flirty smile wrecking me.
We stare at each other for a long moment, her red hair shining in the firelight. I desperately want to touch it, but I don’t dare.
“From what I can tell, you’re good at interning.”
She looks down at her lap and scoffs self-consciously.
“That remains to be seen,” she says. She then lifts her head and looks past me. “Wait a minute. Where is Esme?”
I turn toward Sagan, or where I thought he was.
Briar’s voice rises in pitch as she points to the opposite end of the log bench. “She was just there, talking to your boy.”
I ignore the way she said the word “boy” sarcastically because I know she’s worried about her friend.
“They must’ve taken a walk. Or gone to get some hotdogs for the fire.”
Briar stands up. “I don’t like this. This doesn’t feel right.”
I get up and follow her, determined not to let her fly into a panic. “Don’t worry. They’re around here somewhere.”
Together, we scour the entire company of folks gathered at the bonfire, as well as what remains of the visitors on the festival grounds.
I ask everyone I know if they’ve seen her, giving out her description: five foot ten, about 180 pounds, with long sandy-colored hair and green eyes, wearing a blazer and boots. She’s not easy to miss.
Suddenly, all the color drains from Briar’s face.
“Oh no. Esme, what did you do?”
Briar takes off at a run toward the street parking by the courthouse. “My car!”
Briar waves her arms wildly in the air. “My rental car is gone! Where…how…?”
This is bad.
I have to think. And when I have to think, I pace.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m thinking.”