Phoenix Fire Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover more Entangled Teen books… The Uncrossing

  Secrets of Skin and Stone

  Black Bird of the Gallows

  The Wishing Heart

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by S. D. Grimm. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Entangled Teen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Tera Cuskaden

  Cover design by Fiona Jayde

  Cover art from iStock

  ISBN 978-1-64063-504-3

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition March 2018

  To Cilia, one of the sweetest, wisest souls I know, because this one is her favorite. I love you, “cister,” and I appreciate you more than you know.

  Chapter One

  Ava

  As far as I could tell, normal people didn’t have memories of things that never happened to them, which by nature made me abnormal.

  It wasn’t the only thing that separated me from being normal, but truthfully, having someone else’s flashbacks while in the middle of an argument with my foster parents was a bit more than I could handle right now. Especially when the memories involved me dancing around some maypole with my eyes on a guy I’d never seen before.

  The fact that I’d made it to the night before my second year in a row at the same school seemed an impossible feat. Well, almost second year. I’d come in the middle of freshman year The fact that I lived with a family I actually liked—who I thought really liked me—seemed more impossible. Yet I sat on their plush, cream-colored, microfiber sofa, avoiding eye contact and not controlling my tongue.

  Why couldn’t I just control my tongue?

  No matter what, I always ruined everything.

  “Ava.” Ms. Fields—or Jean—leaned toward me on the sofa, extending her hand across the cushion in between us as if reaching cross a divide. I wanted to grab it. The concern in her eyes looked so genuine. But accepting that connection seemed too risky…in case I got too attached before they did. “We just want what’s best for you.”

  Of course, she did. They all said that. Every parent in every home said that. And seriously, they didn’t even know me. How could they possibly know what was best for me?

  Her hand stopped in the center of the cushion, as if asking me to make the decision to trust her.

  Not a risk I was willing to take. Where had trust gotten me so far? I looked right into her compassionate eyes. “Right. Danny is allowed to take your SUV and go out with his friends, but I want to go for a run”—by now my voice reached a decibel I wasn’t proud of—“and I’m forced to stay here.”

  Mr. Fields stood. “Listen here, young lady.”

  Oh no. He’d said, “young lady.” That was sure to make me listen. I didn’t do threats well. One of my bigger weaknesses, really. And it usually resulted in me acting out in ways contrary to how I felt. Showing affection made me vulnerable. Showing anger—that was my protective armor. I needed it. Which resulted in a glare that I very much regretted, but I was in too deep to back down now. So I punctuated it by narrowing my eyes further.

  “Dave.” Jean’s voice warned him to calm down.

  His scowl remained, but he took a deep breath. “We just don’t want you running this late at night alone.”

  “I won’t be alone.” Lies came so easily now. I closed my eyes, fully aware of the damage I was doing. Unable to stop myself. “Yuki is meeting me.”

  “Good. Then I’ll drop you off at her house and pick you up when you’re done.” Mr. Fields smacked his palm against the armchair as if it were a done deal.

  I blinked, not expecting that answer. “But you have to work early in the morning.”

  “Ava, your safety is important. We don’t want you to be alone.”

  Alone? I wanted to scream. Why were they suddenly so worried about my being alone? Why did no one seem to understand how fully capable and self-sufficient I was? Why did I have to prove it, when no one even cared where I would end up two years from now? Trust. That they knew what was best for me? Yeah right. I stood, hands fisted. “I can take care of myself.”

  He sat there, looking stunned. Jean’s quiet voice broke in. “I don’t know why you push us away.”

  The words speared my heart. But why expect her to understand? What in her perfect little life with expensive, matching couches and luxury items like throw pillows had ever given her cause to imagine someone wanting to push people they cared about away? Nothing.

  I turned toward her and her “help me understand” expression. “I just want to go for a run.”

  “That’s fine, Ava. We just can’t let you go alone this late at night.”

  “Actually, you can’t stop me.”

  Mr. Fields’s voice remained calm and collected. “We need you to understand that living under our roof means you obey our rules.”

  There it was. The ultimatum. The threat I was used to. The reason I pushed people away when I started getting too close. I crossed the buffed faux-oak floor to the double-paned front door and touched the handle. I could apologize. Let them win. They’d likely smother me with hugs. They might even set me down in the kitchen and place a bowl of ice cream in front of me. A scenario I’d dreamed of so many times.

  My heart clutched, and I opened the door.

  Mr. Fields promised what I feared. “Ava, don’t you dare leave this house.”

&nbs
p; I faced him. “Or what? You’ll send me away?”

  He opened his mouth in stunned silence. I slammed the door behind me and raced out into the night.

  Free of the confines of the brick and mortar that housed expensive furniture and immaculate rooms, my walls wanted to crumble. Out here, in the open, I could almost be free. Almost. In this suburbia where I didn’t belong, I still felt suffocated. I needed the woods.

  The reason they didn’t want me out here was because I was drawn to the trees, especially at night. Where I could be alone. Where I could unravel. That unnerved them, not that anything bad ever happened around here. It was nice of them to care about my safety. Kind of them to offer to drive me to Yuki’s. I could almost imagine them as my parents. Almost allow myself to hope the word “adoption” would come up. But after tonight, how much more patient would they be with me? I couldn’t control my tongue, my only weapon for protecting my fragile emotions.

  The night air filled my lungs. Sweat dripped down my back. The rhythmic sound of my shoes hitting the pavement joined my breathing, and the waxing moon lit my path. Trees beckoned me ahead. Soon the crunch of dirt and gravel would echo under my shoes, and trees, with their cooling mists, would surround me. Wrap around me like a security blanket.

  And why wouldn’t the woods be my safe place. I’d been found here. A four-year-old, lost and alone, walking away from a fire. I might not remember anything about my life before that moment, but dozens of foster homes since? I remembered them.

  The forest was my only stable environment.

  A rabbit bolted, its lean body rushing in zigzags as it ran past. Headlights left a golden gleam on the outline of its lithe body. One thing separated me from the dirt road surrounded by trees and the heartbeat of freedom: this road. The only car I could see was still far enough away. I picked up my pace and raced across the street.

  The headlights swerved as soon as I was in front of them, though I was nowhere near them. Tires screeched against the pavement. My heart thudded against my chest as I slowed and turned—planted in the middle of the street. In slow motion, the black SUV careened toward the streetlight right across the street from where I stood, not losing enough speed. No. No, no, no. I knew that car.

  Helplessly, I watched as it smashed into the light pole. And I saw the driver.

  “Danny!” I didn’t recognize my scream until I heard my words hanging in the humid air.

  I headed toward the SUV.

  Something warm gripped my arm—someone’s hand—and stopped me from getting to the SUV. “Ava.”

  The blare of a honking horn cut through my clouded worry. Blinding lights headed straight for me. Fast. Another vehicle. Why weren’t they slowing down? That car veered, too, and headed right for Danny’s car.

  The strong grip jerked me backward. I stumbled into another human being. Warm arms squeezed me close and guided me away from the second inevitable crash.

  The awful crunch and squeal of bending metal ripped through the night. New fear, primal fear, gripped me. I screamed Danny’s name and pushed against the wet T-shirt of whomever protected me. His hold encircled me and pushed me closer to the ground. Shards of metal and glass rained against leaves and tree trunks, leaving gashes in the bark. Pieces had to be hitting the guy who held me. I closed my eyes and covered my ears. This could not be happening.

  An instant later, he let go and pressed a phone into my hand. It was ringing.

  I looked up, for the first time catching his face. Blue eyes, messy, brown hair. He was missing his signature geek glasses, but I knew him. Wyatt. Wyatt Wilcox.

  He pointed to the phone. “It’s 911.” Then he raced toward the wreckage. Fresh blood on the back of his T-shirt glistened in the streetlight.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “I—I just witnessed a car crash.” I tried to stand, but my whole body shook, and I knelt in the thick grass. Something sharp bit into my knee. I shifted my position, too weak to stand back up.

  “Ma’am, is anyone hurt? Where are you?”

  Her barrage of questions continued, along with that soothing voice of hers. I had to stand up. I had to see if my foster brother was alive.

  Wyatt pulled the door to the SUV and it snapped off. A huge crack rattled through everything. Bloody arms reached out of the vehicle and grabbed Wyatt’s shirt.

  “Hey, Danny, just relax, and don’t move. Okay? Help is coming.”

  Help was coming. My stomach roiled.

  The Fieldses would never forgive me now. And I couldn’t blame them.

  …

  There was still blood in between my fingernails from holding Danny’s hand. I gripped the Styrofoam coffee cup, watching the liquid tremble with my shaking. My heartbeat pounded in my throbbing knee—from where I’d knelt on a shard of glass or something—keeping me aware of the slow passage of time. The heavy smell of antiseptic stung my nostrils every time a nurse walked past. How long were Jean and Dave going to keep me waiting out here before they told me what state Danny was in?

  This was all my fault.

  The fight. The running away—again. If I hadn’t crossed the street, the cars wouldn’t have swerved. Danny wouldn’t have hit the pole. I always ruined everything.

  “It’s not your fault.” Wyatt’s steady voice reminded me for the third time.

  How did he keep doing that?

  I looked at him, sitting next to me, watching me with those big blue eyes—darker in this light. I don’t think I ever noticed the color behind his glasses before. Then again, I’d never really looked.

  His elbows rested on his knees, and his hands were cupped together. Red stained the front of his shirt where Danny had grabbed him. He wore a hoodie now that covered most of it. He zipped it up higher.

  I stopped staring and looked back at my coffee cup. “It is my fault.”

  “You crossed the street. He was drunk. Any sober driver wouldn’t have swerved and lost control like that.”

  “The other guy—”

  “I’m sure the other guy’s fine.” He tipped his head up and I followed his gaze. Jean and Dave walked toward me. I barely registered Wyatt sliding the coffee cup from my hands as I sprang out of my chair. “Danny?”

  Jean wrapped her arm around me. Her red-rimmed eyes made it clear she’d been crying. “Danny’s going to be okay. He cracked a few ribs, and they cleaned and stitched up the gash in his arm. He’s really lucky.”

  “The other guy?” My voice shook.

  Jean smoothed my hair and squeezed my hand. “He hit his head, but otherwise, he’s fine. They were both drunk, sweetie.”

  Relief warmed my veins. “Good.” I stared at Jean, sure my eyes were wide. “I mean, not that they were drunk.”

  She smiled sadly and brushed my tangled hair out of my face. “I think you should head home and get some rest.”

  “Danny—”

  “Is asleep now. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  Dave extended his hand and Wyatt shook it. I didn’t know he’d followed, but knowing he stood behind me made me relax for some reason.

  Dave motioned to me, but his gaze was still locked on Wyatt. “I’m glad you were with her. She’s been insisting that she’s not running alone, but I had my doubts.”

  Jean rubbed my arm and leaned closer. “You didn’t tell us your running partner was a boy. Did you think we’d disapprove?”

  Oh, this was good. “Jean, Dave, this is Wyatt. He’s a friend from school.” I glanced over my shoulder in time to catch Wyatt raise his eyebrows. I stared at him, pleading.

  He recovered quickly and smiled at my foster parents. “Nice to see you.”

  “You should come by again sometime, Wyatt.” Jean patted his cheek. “We can give you kids a ride home. Just give us a minute to settle things here.” Her voice wavered.

  I glanced at Wyatt. There was no reason for him to be stuck in this mess. But I was still shaken, and having him here helped. Perhaps because he’d protected me. I caught myself staring at him, and my face
flushed as I turned away.

  The recent memories of tonight came careening back. Cars screeching, metal bending, glass shattering. I squeezed my eyes closed.

  “I’ll go home with you, sweetheart.” Jean wrapped me in a hug, and my knees weakened.

  “No. I’m okay.” A lump in my throat made my voice squeak. Danny was her son. And it was okay. I really didn’t need anyone. “You stay. I’ll be fine.”

  She looked at Wyatt. “Will you stay with her? Just until we get home.”

  What?

  Dave’s eyes popped open wide. “Jean, what are you—”

  “Look at her, Dave. She’s terrified.”

  Dave pulled Jean aside. “He’s a teenage boy.” They wandered farther away from us, continuing the conversation.

  “We’ll have to start showing her we trust her if we’re going to expect the same from her.” Jean’s words caused me to flinch. Would they trust me?

  Wyatt chuckled and leaned a little closer. “Do they really think we can’t hear them?”

  I laughed, and it felt good. Like something wound tight inside me uncoiled. “I think so.”

  “I’ll tell them I can stay with you, then I’ll just go home. If—if that’s what you want.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at his tall, surprisingly muscular frame. “You were spectacular tonight.”

  His eyes met mine and seemed to smile. “You shouldn’t run alone.”

  “Are you seriously lecturing me right now? Because I’ve seen you running alone on numerous occasions.”

  His eyes widened. “You’ve seen me?”

  “Is that why you don’t wave back?”

  He chuckled. “That’s a wave? Because I thought it was just the way you let your hands flop all over when you run.”

  “I do not let my hands flop all over.” I made to shove him, but his hands flew up protectively, so I pushed his arms instead. “Good reflexes.”

  The smile left. “Yeah.”

  Jean and Dave walked back over to us, and Dave offered the keys to his Mercedes-Benz. “Go home. Get some rest. And if you don’t want to be alone, give us a call.” He swallowed. “Wyatt can stay until we get there.”

  Jean stood behind him, arms crossed, nodding her approval. I wanted to fling my arms around her and thank her for giving me a way out of that awful place. Hospitals tended to give me nightmares after—well, after spending so much time in one as a kid. Instead, I took the keys and headed to the parking garage, Wyatt following. The stupid pain in my knee made me walk a little slower. I needed to get peroxide on that. No way I’d ask here, though. They’d likely put me in a room and make me see a doctor. No thank you.