Free Hell, Fire & Freedom (Fighting for Freedom) by Shannon Callahan Page B

true to who you are, and remember that any person in that school would be lucky to call you a friend,” I plead.
    Her eyes are glassy, and she looks a little lost, but I hope that I broke through on some level. We may be free of our past physically, but mentally and emotionally we still have a long way to go.
    “Thanks, sis, not sure how I ever got so lucky to have you,” she chokes out.
    “Ditto.”
    We make our way back to the apartment where we decide on tacos for supper. I’m glad we did. I hadn’t had a taco since I was six, and it was delicious. I know that I’m putting on a bit of weight, and though it feels good to not technically have to worry, I also know that I can’t eat what I want forever. For tonight, though, I’m going to enjoy that freedom.
    I grab my purse and pull out the calendar I brought home from work. That feeling of want deep in my belly rises up from the cover photo alone. For years I thought that all men were ruined for me, and I was fine with that, but with Blaze, it’s different. I’m sure he’s an asshole, chauvinistic pig deep down, too, but I can pretend with him at least. It’s not like anything will ever come from a harmless crush.
    I take a deep breath and flip to the month of August. I feel my body’s reaction before my mind even registers what it’s seeing.
    Oh. My. God.
    The glossy photo shows Blaze outside of a burning building in a pair of yellow firemen’s pants and suspenders, hung low on his hips. He’s covered in dirt, soot, and sweat and he’s yielding an axe. Every muscle in his upper body is taut and hard. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life. My body aches with want.
    I shut the calendar and throw it under my bed. What am I doing? I don’t want him. I don’t even like him. He’s kind of an arrogant asshole … or maybe he’s nice, what do I know? He’s confusing, I’ll give him that.
    That’s because he feels guilty for witnessing your crazy ass panic attack , I tell myself. Why am I even wasting my time thinking about him? I can just see the conversation now.
    Hey Blaze, I hope you don’t mind, but I have a psychotic husband who I let abuse and rape me for five years because I am a weak piece of shit. Does that turn you on ?
    I decide to forget about Blaze and enjoy my night with Marie. We put on Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and cuddle up with some popcorn. I fall asleep on the couch about halfway through the movie, but Marie wakes me up and helps me into bed.

 
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
    The next morning I wake Marie ten minutes earlier than usual. I lead her into the kitchen where I have a plate of sixteen pancakes piled high with a glittery pink candle on top.
    “You remembered,” she says, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
    “Of course I remembered!” I say, pretending to be offended. “I did it every year since I could cook. After I left, I sent the supplies to make them during your birthday week, but I knew Ma would never do it for you,” I say, instantly regretting bringing Ma into it.
    “I managed on my own just fine. I always looked forward to my birthday week, knowing you were thinking of me, too,” Marie says shyly.
    “Stop with the sappiness, it’s your birthday! Now blow out that candle,” I order.
    She rushes over and blows the candle out on her first attempt.
    “Happy birthday, Marie,” I say excitedly before handing her the bottle of maple syrup.
    “I’m sorry you have school on your birthday, but I was hoping this would make it a little easier,” I say, pulling the purple gift bag that I had hidden behind the island up onto the counter.
    “Well, I already didn’t mind school, so this is a bonus,” she says enthusiastically.
    “Don’t get too excited until you open it.”
    I hand her the bag and hope for the best. She pulls out the fiery red tank top first. When I saw it in the window display on my way to pick her up from school one day, I knew it would be perfect. It’s ruched along the sides, and the