Page 8 of Consumed By Fire

"I'm going to Howden today. I have to look at some furniture for the last room I renovated. If you want to come, you can have a look around and get an idea of what you want,” she says. I refrain from replying that it’s she whom I’d like, that I want to know her.

"I've already disturbed you enough today. I wouldn't want to take advantage of it."

"I'm the one who asked you, but if you don't want to, I can't oblige you,” she says, washing the cup.

"No, I didn't want to offend you. It's just that you were an angel and you helped me a lot."

"An angel?” she asks, bursting out laughing. "Come on, Marine! Don't waste my time.” She throws my jacket at me.

Time with her is the only thing I want, and for once, it seems like someone up there has been listening to me.

5

CHARLOTTE

Focusing on driving to Howden is really difficult. But in the end, being around him makes me feel comfortable.

"Why Armstrong?" I ask.

"Why not? It's a small town, relaxing and quiet. I needed a break from the chaotic life of Chicago. But I made my choice based on the stories of a Marine friend of mine."

"That's interesting. Nathaniel Knight is the only Marine I know here. Don't you miss it? Being a Marine, I mean?"

"Captain Knight brought me here, though not him directly,” he says, looking at me. "You're always a Marine, Charlotte. Whether you leave the service or not, it’s part of you until the end."

"I think you’re right,” I say, stopping at a red light.

"What about you?” he asks and I look at him.

"There isn't much to say, to be honest. My life hasn't been as adventurous as yours."

"I can't believe it. Who are you really, Charlotte?” he asks and I get lost in his eyes. The car behind us honks, breaking the spell that has trapped me, and I realize that the light is green. I wave in apology and start driving again.

"I was born and raised in Boston. School, work, college. I moved to Armstrong four years ago and opened my B&B Paradise."

"Wow, did you give up on everything?"

"If you don't have anything that binds you to a certain place, then you don't really give it up,” I answered while parking. "As I said, I’m quite boring as a person."

"I don't think so. I just think you've built a shell to protect yourself. Maybe someone has disappointed, or worse, hurt you and you don't want it to happen again."

"You're right, both of them, unfortunately. But I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I don’t want to bring back bad memories,” he says, getting out of the car.

We don’t talk about personal things anymore, and I’m happy about that. He understands and gives me the freedom to open up or not. I still don't feel ready to face my past demons.

Dylan chooses the paint, and I buy some, too. He also chooses furniture for his living room and bedroom. I love his bed and I'd be lying if I said I didn't picture myself in it next to him. I shake my head to dispel that image.

For lunch, we go to Izumy, a Japanese restaurant that I often go to. Their food and sushi are divine. With the excuse of going to the restroom, Dylan pays the bill.

"That’s not fair," I say, pouting. He laughs and approaches me, looking me in the eye. My heart is about to come out of my chest.

"I like you more when you smile,” he says, surprising me, stroking my cheek. I lean on his hand and then instinctively step back.

Dylan pulls back, apologizing, but I haven't missed the sadness in his eyes. I feel guilty for being the reason for that sadness.

"Dylan, I'm sorry, but I'm not letting anyone get near me."