Page 81 of Wildfire
“I never said she wasn’t worth the risk. I want her. I like her so fucking much and I can’t work out how the hell this happened. But just because I want her doesn’t mean I deserve to have her. I’m just… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Xander downs the rest of his beer and I sip on my soda, feeling irritated with myself. “Do you think you’re good enough for her?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he says, resting his elbow on the table and leaning against his hand. “Something’s got you into this funk because you just saiddeserve. Is that what you’re worried about? You two get serious in the future and there’s an international debate to try to decide if you deserve her?”
“Well, I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now, Jesus Christ.” Another thing to now worry about.
Xander rolls his eyes. “Answer my question, dude. Do you think you’re good enough for Aurora?”
Wanting her, having her, and feeling like I deserve her are three very different things. “No, I don’t. I’m a fuckup.”
“That’s your problem; you’re such a fucking pessimist. Let me tell you right now, Callaghan, no bullshit, no protecting your feelings—you are good enough. The sooner you start believing that, the sooner we get to pretend this little crisis you’re experiencing never happened.
“You gotta trust the universe to let you be happy, man. But if you’re not and you’re going to let Aurora down when shit gets too scary for you, then yeah, you should bow out now while it’s just starting. She doesn’t deserve to have that happen to her.”
“And if I fuck everything up first?”
He rolls his eyes again. “I swear you just enjoy punishing yourself, bro. You’re not a fuckup. You’re twenty-one and you’re one of the nicest, most levelheaded guys I know. We’re friends, so you get to be in your head right now and I won’t hold it against you, but she will if you call it a day and change your mind when you realize you fumbled the bag.”
Well shit. I rub at my jaw nervously, feeling like more of a dick than I did before this conversation started. “Did they put a birthday lecture in the Constitution, too?”
“Stop acting like a goof and I’ll stop hitting you with my wisdom. Come on, birthday boy, drink up. The woman who’s obsessed with you texted to tell me to get our asses back to camp.”
I down the rest of my drink. “I didn’t know Fish could text.”
IMULL OVERXANDER’S WORDSas we drive back to Honey Acres with the radio loud enough that we don’t have to chat.
After we sign back in at reception, Xander starts telling me about one of the lifeguards—who he’s 75 percent sure checks him out when we take the kids on the lake—as we head toward the entertainment area where the evening activities take place. He keeps up a steady stream of anecdotes, which isn’t necessarily unusual for Xander, but this is different and it makes me stop suddenly.
“There’s a cake, isn’t there?” Xander stops, too, a sheepish look on his face as he shrugs.
“Why would there be a cake? Maybe there’s cake, maybe there’s not cake. I don’t know! I’m just here to keep the kids safe; I don’t know about kitchen operations.” He blows out a breath, putting his hands on his hips. “There might be a cake.”
“Thanks for being so clear and concise, buddy.”
We’re almost there when he throws an arm around my shoulders. “She gives you the puppy eyes. You don’t know how scary she can be to the rest of us when she chooses to be.”
I can cope with a cake on my birthday if it makes Aurora happy. Having a birthday during summer break has always meant people are busy, and my mom’s attempt at a birthday celebration always turned into some kind of drama, so I stopped making an effort.
I haven’t checked if anyone has tried to reach me today to wish me happy birthday, but last night when I used it to google the Roberts family—which feels embarrassing to admit now—I had no missed calls or messages from my family. I haven’t heard from anyone since Dad was in the hospital, and even though I made it clear I didn’t want to be contacted, I’m still surprised they listened. I don’t even have any money requests from my dad, which is more suspicious than surprising.
Xander clears his throat, dragging me out of my head. “Listen, I need to blindfold you, and I really need you not to punch me.”
“Please tell me you’re joking. Why could I possibly need a blindfold?”
“Does this feel like the kind of thing I’d joke about? Maybe Clay’s going to jump out of your cake and strip, I don’t fucking know.” He pulls one of the blindfolds we use for the kids’ games from his pocket. “I’m not tough enough to fight you, big guy. Let’s not make this difficult. She was very clear that you need a blindfold.”
He places the material over my eyes as I huff. “You knew this was coming and you still let me moan about my feelings?”
“Told you, you’re a fool.” Letting Xander navigate me while blindfolded is now my personal hell. It’s totally silent as we come to a stop, and part of me worries he’s about to push me into the lake or something. “I’m taking the blindfold off. Remember to act surprised about your cake,” he whispers as he unties the material at the back of my head.
I squint beneath the sunlight as my eyes readjust and everyone shouts happy birthday all at once. I’m immediately piled on by multiple bodies, and it’s not until they free me from their clutches and step back that I realize who’s in front of me.
Henry’s pushing Nate away from his personal space, while Robbie maneuvers himself out of Kris’s and Bobby’s way. JJ’s arm lands on my shoulder, and my jaw still feels like it’s on the floor. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”
“The girls and Joe send their love,” Robbie says. “We wanted to video call them, but you weren’t joking about the service here.”
