One Fine Fireman by Jennifer Bernard Page B

But he’s been there for us, right? He’s never walked away. That counts for something, doesn’t it?” She didn’t say out loud the other part of that thought—he’d never walked away, unlike Pete’s father.
    “No, it doesn’t. He’s never here to begin with. And when he is, he doesn’t do anything. I mean, not anything fun.”
    “Like play wizards, for instance? Or Dungeons and Dragons?”
    “Like anything ,” Pete said fiercely. “You can marry him if you want, but I don’t have to talk to him. And I’m going to name the giant slug who lives in the Cave of Torment after him. You can’t stop me.”
    “I guess not. Artistic license.”
    “And I’m naming the fire dragon Kirk.”
    “Because he’s a fireman? That makes sense, I guess.”
    “No, not because he’s a fireman. Don’t you ever listen to my story? I have to tell the whole plot all over again! The fire dragon’s really a nobleman, see? He was cursed by a witch who turned him into a dragon who gets burned by the sun. That’s why he’s a fire dragon—he catches on fire. It’s really painful but he never cries. And no one understands what’s happening to him, so they’re scared of him, but he’s really noble and kind and rescues people in the middle of the night when the sun can’t burn him.”
    Maribel opened her mouth but couldn’t speak a word. Kirk the Fire Dragon. Noble and kind. Burned from the sun.
    Did Pete know about Kirk’s cancer? Or had his imagination concocted a good reason for Kirk to work on his motorcycle in a place sheltered from the sun?
    “Does he . . . um . . . what happens to Kirk the Dragon?”
    “Mom, I don’t know! I’m only on chapter three of Book One. And there’s going to be at least seven books. But I know what happens to Duncan the Giant Slug. He’s going to get squished. A big boulder is going to—”
    “Okay, okay, I get it. Anyway, pancakes are just about ready, honey. And please don’t squish Duncan until after breakfast, okay?”
    “Fine.”
    After she left Pete’s room, unable to face Duncan yet, she took shelter in the bathroom. The scent of rose-petal potpourri greeted her, along with the sight of her pale face in the mirror.
    The image of Kirk as a fire dragon pounded through her brain. It was eerily perfect. There was something else Pete had said, that it didn’t matter that Duncan had never walked away, because he’d never really been around to begin with.
    Abandonment wasn’t the problem here. It had already happened. This time they’d been pre-abandoned by a distracted, self-absorbed workaholic.
    But whose fault was that?
    Maybe she’d never wanted Duncan around that much. Maybe that’s why they’d lasted six years. They’d never had to confront anything difficult until now.
    Maybe her son was right. Maybe she should have listened to him a little more. Maybe she needed to tear off her rose-colored glasses and get real.

 
    Chapter Eight
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    K IRK HANDED THE keys of his Harley to Bruce, who’d answered his Craigslist ad.
    “Take it easy. Speed limit’s thirty-five around here. And I know all the cops.”
    “No worries, dude.” Bruce, a young snowboarder from Tahoe, kick-started the Harley and grinned. “Suh-weet. Be right back.”
    He roared off. Kirk leaned against his truck, which was already heating up from the morning sun. He ought to go inside, but the hell with it. Before long he’d be far away from the intense desert rays. Besides, he needed to conserve energy for the important stuff: packing and thinking about Maribel.
    Two weeks had passed without a single encounter with her. Two crucial weeks during which Kirk felt something die inside him. He’d taken his shot. Bared his heart. Spilled his guts. He’d never done anything so tough in his life. Firefighter exam, chemotherapy, the decision to leave San Gabriel—it all paled next to the leap off a cliff he’d taken under Maribel’s incredulous hazel gaze.
    Bruce zoomed back into sight and