Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
After drawing in a deep breath, my racing mind slowed down enough for me to focus on something else. Well, someone else. Plural.
My eyes shifted between Gabe and Garrett as they adjusted their coats and helmets, preparing to launch themselves into danger without hesitation. In the span of a few years, the boys who teased and messed with others for their own gain were now men who put their lives on the line for others.
So much had changed. The energy surrounding us wasn’t bitter and frustrating like it used to be. It was something far more confusing and intense.
My stomach flipped as I tore my eyes away from them and their stoic faces. I couldn’t shake the way they looked at me earlier. How they gazed at me with gentle eyes and sincere frowns. I never would’ve expected such a heartfelt apology from them, and I also never would’ve expected this odd sense of attraction that I felt for them.
They both looked good, but I couldn’t get mixed up with the Wallace brothers. We all had important work to do, and we were starting now.
“Alright, let’s go!” Paolo shouted from the passenger’s seat once the fire truck came to a stop.
Everyone piled out, their boots hitting the street in front of a burning convenience store. Smoke poured out of the building where the glass front door used to be, an orange glow illuminating the darkness inside as the fire continued to grow. Onlookers gathered down the sidewalk and across the street, witnessing the destruction of yet another building.
The moment I stepped out of the fire truck, I caught the scent of gasoline through the thickness of the smoke. My eyes shot up and down the sidewalk, trying to catch a glimpse of someone speeding away from the scene or someone looking suspicious. The area was clear, though.
“Double time! We can’t let the fire spread to the other buildings!” Paolo shouted as Gabe, Garrett, and Tobin dragged out the hose and pointed it toward the doorway.
I remained near the back of the fire truck with my pen poised over my notepad, jotting down my observations. However, my mind was only halfway focused on what I was writing down. My gaze kept shifting to Gabe and Garrett as they planted their feet and directed the hose, extinguishing the fire more and more with each passing minute.
It was crazy how much they had changed, but it had been years. We were all different people one way or another, and I liked the new Wallace brothers. There was still tension between all of us, but it felt… different. I tried not to show it, though.
Once the fire was out, Tobin made his way into the store, doing a thorough investigation while Gabe and Garrett put the hose up. Their eyes caught mine as they walked nearby, tension crackling in the air.
I breathed in deeply, offering them a nod before turning and seeing an elderly woman staring at the burnt store with a concerned look on her face. As nice as the firefighters were to talk to, it would help my story to get some quotes and information from other locals.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Can I have a moment of your time to talk to you about the fires happening recently?” I asked her as I approached her.
The woman turned to me, squinting slightly as she adjusted her large, thick-framed glasses. She had a slight hunch in her posture, but she still smiled up at me.
“Oh, hello. Do you work for the news?” she asked.
“I work for The Blue Ridge Times out in North Carolina, but I was born and raised here,” I told her.
“Welcome home,” she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she gave me a warm look.
Those words carried more weight for me than she realized, but I wasn’t here to walk down memory lane. I was here to work and maybe experience something positive in this place. A case solved. Criminals apprehended. The best story I had ever written.
“Thank you. What do you make of all these fires? A group of teenagers? Something bigger?” I asked her as my pen hovered over my notepad.
The older woman hesitated for a few seconds before speaking.
“Well, I’m not sure. The strange thing is that this isn’t the only time this town has had a fire problem,” she explained.
A confused look crossed my face.
“You’re saying that this town has had an arson problem in the past?” I questioned her.
“I think. It’s hard to remember the details from years ago,” the older woman admitted.
I had to uncover those memories.
“Would you say there was a year or two in the past when you heard of more arson incidents than normal? Maybe a family member or friend was affected?” I pushed a little. Personal accounts were vital and were far more easily remembered than hearing something through word of mouth or reading it in the newspaper.