Free Surge : A Stepbrother Romance by Jenni Smiles Page A

the window at the front of my house and wraps
itself around the roof, licking the treetops. Running to the garage, I take the
hose and pull it as far as I can. I begin trying to quell the fire. It seems
hopeless, but I am not going to let my house go up in flames. The tiny hose doesn’t
do much, but it is better than nothing. Where the fuck is the firetruck? Why
do I pay for extra service?
            Sirens blare in
the distance. It is deeply disturbing to watch helplessly as my personal
belongings and the place I live in goes up in smoke. Finally, the firetrucks
pull in. When the firemen come out, they cast me sidelong glances upon realizing
I have been trying to put the fire out with a hose. The supervisor comes over
to me and begins peppering me with questions.
            “I think we can take it from here. Is anyone
inside?”
            “No.”
            “Are there any animals inside?”
            “No.”
            “Is there anything combustible—explosives, gasoline,
or a high-pressure vessel of some type?”
            “No.”
            “All right. Do not leave the property. We have
some more questions to ask you.”
            I feel numb. This is one of the most surreal
moments of my life. I broke up with my girlfriend, I lost my opportunity with
Sam, and now it seems the fire department thinks I set my own house on fire. That’s
the only reason I can think I was asked to remain here. It seems like he is
telling me that this is my fault. Fuck him!
            I walk around the driveway, apprehension
slithering through my veins as the fire crews extinguish the fire. It doesn’t take
them that long. The damage, however, looks extensive. The front room of my
house is now exposed to the open air; you can see through the gaping hole that
the walls are now black. I cannot believe it. I walk over to my steps, sit down,
and put my head in my hands, only to be rudely interrupted by the supervisor.
            “Tell me what happened.”
            I tell him everything that I know, all the way
down to the Molotov cocktail. I hear one of the firemen call out.
            “Found it.”
            The fireman brings over the remains of the
bottle with a rag in it. Who would do this to me? Why would anyone want to
do this to my house? Delia came to mind, but that would be just too much,
even for her . Is this something Sam would do? Nah, she doesn’t even know
where I live.
            “Do you have any idea who would want to do
this to you?”
            “No.”
            A police car pulls onto my driveway and stops
right in front of me. With his window open, the officer begins to speak.
            “Are you Mick Anderson?”
            “Yes, sir.”
            I notice Delia in the back of the car.
            “Do you recognize this woman?”
            Delia avoids my gaze, looking straight ahead,
tears streaming from her eyes. Her blonde hair is all dishevelled and makeup is
running in lines down her face.
            “Yes, that is my ex-girlfriend. Did she do
this?”
            “Well, we found her walking around outside of
your property with burn marks on her hands. We don’t know for sure, but we are
pretty sure. We are going to need you to come down to the station to give us a
statement.”
            “Of course.”
            How could someone be so angry with me that
they chose to do this? I knew she was crazy, but this took it to a whole new
level. She destroyed my house. I am going to be sure to nail her to the wall.
            “Do you need a ride to the police station?”
the officer asks me.
            “No I have my own car, I will meet you there.”
            I immediately get into my car and drive to the
police station. When I arrive, I have built up such a head of steam that I’m ready
to rip her head off. Storming out of my car,