Page 49 of Fire Away


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My eyes shoot back open as I’m jolted back to reality.

“Why?” I’m not sure why I asked, because I’m already lifting my hand and placing my phone in his palm like he requested.

“Because you’re sick but won’t admit it or let me take you home. I’m not dumb enough to argue with you about it but I’m sharing your location with me.”

His fingers fly across the screen, swiping and clicking until he looks satisfied and hands it back to me along with one more of the bags of food he’s holding. “If you don’t reply when I check in with you later to make sure that you’re okay, I’m going to assume that you passed out or something and I’m coming to find you.”

Maybe I should reconsider going home after all. I think I need a dry change of underwear after hearing those words out of his mouth.

“That’s ridiculous,” I lie. It’s hot as hell.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, as he opens the door. “Don’t care.”

Isn’t this the part where I quip back with something snarky to protect myself? Roll my eyes? Maybe lecture him about how I don’t need him to take care of me?

“Bye, Warren,” I say with a stupid fucking grin. “Thank you for lunch.”

“Anytime, Savvy girl.”

19

SAVANNAH

“Do you have it in pink?” Blythe asks the employee at the boutique. Other than antique shops and a hardware store, there isn’t much as far as shopping goes in Westridge, so we drove a few towns over to try and find some cute clothes.

“I don’t think so, I’m sorry,” the girl answers.

“That’s okay. Thank you,” Blythe says as she hangs the top back on the rack.

I laugh under my breath because she’s already set aside several pink items to buy but is still on the hunt for more.

I didn’t bail on our weekend shopping trip, even after a stressful week at work, because I found myself excited to go with Blythe. Being around her settles me just knowing how honest yet positive she always is. When she showed up to my house this morning with two iced refreshers and a smile, I practically skipped down the walkway to her car.

Pop music plays throughout the store that’s filled to the brim with bright summer colors. I stroll past the jewelry table, stopping to pick up a pair of earrings that catch my eye.

“These would be cute for work, right?” I ask while holding up the gold knot stud earrings.

Blythe glances over her shoulder. “Ooo, yes! Very chic. Very Savannah,” she laughs. “Hey, speaking of your job, how’s everything going there?”

I shrug at first and place the earrings in the basket I’m carrying. Then I think twice about downplaying it. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard.”

Blythe’s face lights up and she stops searching through the sea of clothes to fully face me. “Yeah?” She really wants to know. There’s an earnestness about the Farrows that throws me off.

I’ve been existing all this time, afraid of people like that, always wondering if it was nothing more than a front to mask their malicious intent. Now I find myself wanting to surround myself with their brand of genuine personalities rather than running, no matter how foreign that feeling is.

“There’s a big case coming up that I’ve been helping with,” I add. “I’m pretty excited about it.”

“That’s amazing, Sav! What about the firm in general though? Do you like it there?”

I think about her question, grazing my fingers over a long floral skirt hanging in front of me. A soft smile breaks over my cheeks. “It’s everything I’ve ever imagined, B. My work feels meaningful and I’m starting to remember why I went into this career field in the first place. I used to think it was so that I could challenge myself and prove to my brother and my parents that I could achieve something beyond their expectations of me. But now, I know that an even bigger reason was so I could make a difference.”

The honest confession about my work came out easier than I thought it would, and it feels amazing to say these things out loud instead of harboring them in my mind. My job means a lot to me, and I know that Blythe is very career driven too, so it feels amazing to have a friend who gets it. Someone who understands.

My heart buzzes with the sweet realization that Blytheismy friend, and it has little to do with the fact that we were once beer pong partners or that I’ve been carrying on with her brother in a fake relationship.

“I see why he likes you so much,” she mutters with a smirk.

“Who?”