Running into the Fire

Chapter 15 : The BBQ

Ava woke with a sharp inhale, her chest tight like she’d been running.

For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.

The motel ceiling came into focus slowly—textured, cracked in one corner, humming faintly with the air conditioner. Her heart was still racing, her body caught somewhere between sleep and reality.

Adrian.

The dream clung to her like sweat.

He had found her. She could still see it—his silhouette in the doorway, the way he didn’t rush, didn’t need to. The certainty in his expression. Like he’d always known where she’d go. Like leaving had only been a temporary inconvenience.

Ava sat up abruptly, dragging a hand over her face. “It’s not real,” she whispered, though her voice trembled. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

But her body didn’t believe it yet.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, grounding herself against the cool floor. The small motel room smelled faintly like detergent and something stale underneath. Ordinary. Harmless.

Not him.

She moved quickly, needing something to do. The coffee maker sputtered to life after a few impatient taps, filling the silence with a familiar, comforting sound. She wrapped her hands around the flimsy cup as soon as it was ready, letting the heat seep into her skin.

Sip by sip, her breathing began to slow.

Still, the unease lingered.

She set the cup down and headed for the shower, turning the water hotter than usual. Steam filled the bathroom, curling around her as she stepped under the spray. She closed her eyes, letting it hit the back of her neck, her shoulders, as if it could wash the dream away.

As if it could wash him away.

By the time she stepped out, her pulse had steadied. Not gone—but quieter.

Manageable.

She dressed carefully for the BBQ, choosing something simple—a pair of jeans and a loose top, her usual hoodie layered over it like armor. She paused at the mirror for a moment, studying her reflection.

You look normal, she thought.

It was almost convincing.

—

The BBQ was already in full swing when Ava arrived.

Laughter carried through the warm afternoon air, mingling with the smell of grilled food and freshly cut grass. Someone had music playing low in the background, just enough to fill the spaces between conversations.

It felt… easy.

That was still strange to her.

Janie waved from across the yard, already mid-conversation with someone, but she gave Ava an encouraging smile before turning back. Ava lingered near the edge at first, unsure where to place herself.

“Hey.”

She turned, and there he was.

Ethan.

There was something about him—something steady. Not overwhelming. Not demanding. Just… present.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice softer than she intended.

“Glad you came,” he said, offering her a drink. “Wasn’t sure if you’d bail last minute.”

Ava huffed a quiet laugh, surprising herself. “I almost did.”

“Yeah?” he smiled. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

They fell into conversation easier than she expected.

At first, it was simple things—how long he’d lived there, how he somehow ended up helping with almost every event, the way the town seemed to revolve around whoever had a grill going that weekend. Ava found herself asking questions without overthinking them.

And Ethan answered like it mattered.

At one point, he told a story about a failed attempt at fixing his truck that ended with him calling a friend for help—and somehow making it worse. Ava laughed, really laughed, the sound slipping out before she could stop it.

It startled her.

Ethan noticed, his smile softening just a fraction, like he understood what that meant without needing it explained.

“See?” he said lightly. “Not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” she echoed.

For a little while, it wasn’t.

—

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the yard as the BBQ began to wind down. People gathered near the pool now, some sitting along the edge, others dangling their feet in the water.

Ava and Ethan drifted that way too, falling into step beside each other.

They walked slowly around the pool, following the narrow strip of concrete that circled it. The space wasn’t meant for much more than passing by, but Ava stayed close to the fence anyway—closer than she needed to—her shoulder nearly brushing the wood as she moved.

It was subtle. Habit.

Distance on one side. Control on the other.

“You avoiding the pool on purpose?” Ethan asked, glancing over at her.

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation.

He laughed. “Smart.”

“Experience,” she replied.

He raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a story.”

“It’s not a good one.”

“All the best ones aren’t.”

She glanced at him, and for a second, something playful flickered across her expression. “You say that now.”

“I stand by it.”

There was a beat—comfortable, easy.

Then someone shouted from across the yard, and Ethan turned slightly to respond. Ava shifted her weight, still too close to the fence, trying to step around him on the narrow path—

Her heel caught on the uneven edge of the concrete.

Everything happened too fast.

She stumbled forward, grabbing instinctively for the nearest thing—Ethan.

He reacted just as quickly, reaching out to steady her, but the sudden pull threw off his balance too.

There was a split second of shared realization—

—and then they both went over the edge.

The splash was loud, cold water crashing around them as they hit the pool.

Ava came up sputtering, pushing wet hair out of her face, shock giving way to disbelief.

Ethan surfaced beside her, laughing. “Okay—definitely my fault.”

“You didn’t even do anything!” she said, breathless, half laughing despite herself.

“Still taking the blame,” he grinned.

Around them, a few people clapped and cheered at the unexpected entertainment.

Ava shook her head, smiling as she waded toward the edge. “I’m soaked.”

“Yeah,” Ethan glanced down at himself. “Same.”

For a second, they just looked at each other—then both of them laughed, the kind that came easy and lingered a little longer than expected.

There was an awkward pause, then he gestured toward the house. “They’ve got towels—and probably something dry you can borrow.”

Ava hesitated only a second before nodding. “Okay.”

—

Inside, the noise of the party faded into a dull hum.

The house was quieter, cooler.

Ethan grabbed a couple of towels from a hallway closet, handing one to her. “Bathroom’s down there,” he said. “I’ll grab you something.”

“Thanks.”

Ava stepped inside, leaving the bathroom door slightly open behind her. She took a breath, steadying herself again, and began to peel off her soaked hoodie, the fabric heavy and clinging.

For a moment, it was just practical. Necessary.

She hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

She caught her reflection in the mirror as she turned slightly, lifting her arm to wring water from her sleeve. Then she paused, brow furrowing. Slowly, she angled her body, looking over her shoulder in the mirror—

And that’s when she saw them.

The bruises.

Faint but unmistakable, fingerprints pressed into her upper arms. Darkened patches she hadn’t even known were there—places she couldn’t easily see on her own.

Her stomach twisted.

She instinctively pulled her arms closer to her sides, like she could hide them now that she knew.

There was a quiet shift in the hallway behind her.

Ethan had come back, a dry shirt in his hand. He stopped when he saw her standing there, tense, her posture suddenly closed off.

“Ava…?”

She froze.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then she turned slightly, not fully facing him, just enough to acknowledge he was there.

His eyes dropped to her arms.

His expression changed instantly. “Ava…”

Her throat tightened. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly.

“That’s not nothing.”

“I said it’s nothing.”

He didn’t step closer, didn’t crowd her. His voice stayed gentle, careful. “Did someone hurt you?”

Her chest started to tighten again.

Not like before.

Worse.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but her voice wavered. Her breathing hitched, shallow and uneven.

Ethan noticed. “Hey—”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, sharper now, backing further into the bathroom space, needing distance.

But the walls felt closer. The air thinner.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

He’s going to know. He’s going to ask more. He’s not going to let it go.

The panic rose fast, clawing up her throat.

“I have to go.”

“Ava, wait—”

But she was already moving.

She grabbed her hoodie, barely getting it over her damp clothes, and pushed past him, the front door swinging open as she rushed outside.

The sounds of the BBQ barely registered.

Her world had narrowed to one thing: escape.

—

By the time she reached the motel, her breathing was ragged, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the key.

Inside, she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it immediately.

Then again.

Just to be sure.

She pressed her back against it, sliding down slowly until she hit the floor, pulling her knees in tight.

Her chest heaved, each breath uneven, sharp.

“You’re okay,” she whispered to herself, though the words felt distant. “You’re okay.”