Chasing Fireflies Read online

  by Claudia Burgoa

  Contents

  Also by Claudia Burgoa

  Before …

  1. Kaitlynn

  2. Oliver

  Chapter 3

  4. Oliver

  5. Kaitlynn

  Chapter 6

  7. Kaitlynn

  … After

  8. Oliver

  9. Oliver

  10. Kaitlynn

  11. Kaitlynn

  12. Oliver

  13. Oliver

  14. Kaitlynn

  15. Kaitlynn

  16. Oliver

  17. Kaitlynn

  18. Oliver

  19. Kaitlynn

  20. Kaitlynn

  Chapter 21

  22. Oliver

  23. Kaitlynn

  24. Oliver

  25. Kaitlynn

  26. Oliver

  27. Kaitlynn

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader,

  Excerpts

  Until I Fall

  Unsurprisingly Complicated

  Fervent

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Claudia Burgoa

  Copyright © 2019 by Claudia Burgoa

  Cover by: By Hang Le

  Edited by: Paulina Burgoa

  Dannielle Leigh Editorial

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, media, places, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Sign up for my newsletter to receive updates about upcoming books and exclusive excerpts.

  Created with Vellum

  Also by Claudia Burgoa

  Standalones

  Someday, Somehow

  Something Like Hate

  Then He Happened

  Maybe Later

  My One Despair

  Knight of Wands

  My One Regret

  Found

  Fervent

  Flawed

  Until I Fall

  Finding My Reason

  Christmas in Kentbury

  Chaotic Love Duet

  Begin with You

  Back to You

  Unexpected Series

  Unlike Any Other

  Unsurprisingly Complicated

  Uncharted

  Uncut

  Undefeated

  Decker the Halls

  “I believe that all of our lives we’re looking for home and if we’re really lucky, we find it in someone’s loving arms. I think that’ what life is-coming home.” –Anita Krizzan

  To the South

  Before …

  One

  Kaitlynn

  In the beginning, there were fireflies, crisp floating dots wading through the summer breeze.

  There were children in the streets and popsicles being passed out by a local grandmother. There were skinned knees, too much sunscreen, and the wafting scent of freshly cut grass. There were long days and even longer nights.

  Summers in Knox Ridge were just as much about mosquito nets and cicada songs as they were about lemonade and sunshine.

  Knox Ridge wasn’t the biggest town in Georgia, but there were too many of us to learn each other's names by heart. Most people grew up on the same street their parents did all those years ago.

  They grew from a twinkle in their parents’ eyes to people who would one day take their places in the layout of our town. Their legacies cast shadows on every succeeding generation—what they’d do, where they lived, and who they loved. The town had a blueprint most didn’t question, but also didn’t consider too much.

  “Being a part of Knox Ridge was a privilege,” my Nana used to say.

  It was a privilege to live around people who genuinely care for you and an honor to have a place like Knox Ridge to come home to.

  “Every town on Earth says they’re the best,” Nana always said. “But how many towns can say ‘if you’re with us, we’ll accept every part of you?’”

  Only Knox Ridge.

  She swore that no one truly left Knox Ridge once they’d gotten a taste of living here, but some took breaks. She was right, some people drifted in and out of our sleepy town, but they always came back home. Even if they hadn’t realized they’d left.

  I met Oliver Tanner one blistering afternoon in July.

  He was five years old, moving back into the childhood home of his recently deceased father. I was four, sitting next door on my front porch with my best friend, Paige, munching on watermelon as we did nearly every afternoon.

  Paige’s father had been my father’s best friend since childhood. As I said, there was a blueprint to this town.

  Oliver wore ripped cargo shorts and clenched a dinosaur toy tightly to his chest. I had never seen anyone in that house. Not until they arrived.

  “I never thought I’d live to see another Tanner live in that house,” my grandmother said.

  I wouldn’t learn until years later the tumultuous history of the Tanner family in town. Once one of the most respected families of Knox Ridge, Oliver’s grandfather had left them disgraced and destitute three decades earlier when he ran off to California with a woman he barely knew. The Tanner’s had been in a downward spiral ever since.

  “Well come on, sweeties,” my grandmother nudged Paige and myself. “Let’s go say hello. See if they need anything. That girl doesn’t look a day over twenty.”

  Nana had been more or less right. Josey Tanner was twenty-five, freshly widowed, and out of money from living out west. Her only option was moving to this house she’d inherited from her husband’s passing and spreading out his meager life insurance for as long as she could.

  Nana introduced us to Oliver and his mother. Josey likewise introduced him to us.

  “You got movers to help you with that truck?” Nana asked.

  “No,” Josey said.

  “Are you renting it by the hour or the day?”

  “Day,” she answered. “I’ve got it rented for the whole week.”

  Nana nodded before waving them both over. “No use doing anything now, then. Come over for some lemonade. My sons get off work at about five. They’ll wrangle up some friends to do it for you.”

  That day was one of my first memories of Nana being Nana, pulling people together for the common good as she always did.

  “Now you two be nice to the Tanner boy,” Nana told Paige and me. “He looks like he could use a bit of TLC.”

  That day was also the day Ollie was entrusted to my keep. He was a year older than me, but back in those days, he was as large and loud as a church mouse. His sandy blonde hair stuck up in ways that defied gravity, and he mostly muttered as we asked him about his dinosaurs.

  We dragged him out back where all the magic happened, spending hours in the sun as the clouds and world passed us by. Our parents filtered in and out to keep an eye on us.

  When the sun started to go down, and the fireflies started to peek out from their slumber, it was like his whole face lit up. I think that was the first time I knew I never wanted to s
top looking at that smile.

  “What are those?” he asked.

  “For Christ’s sake, haven’t you ever seen a firefly before?” Paige asked, ever the spitting image of her father; who had too little patience for others.

  He shrugged, smile faltering. It broke my heart before I was even old enough to know that was possible. Something about him made me want to protect him from everything.

  I took his hand in mine. “Let’s catch some,” I said. “We’ll show you.”

  “Fireflies knew how to call each other back home,” I told him like Nana had taught me. “They danced and flickered to the rhythm of their love song.”

  Nana taught me a lot. Like how fireflies were magic with the persistence of a person, that’s what I loved about them. No matter how far they strayed, they remembered where they came from and who their family was. They always took my breath away.

  Nana shouted for us to grab our firefly jars, each equipped with air holes at the top, courtesy of my dad’s power drill.

  Paige took some joy in bossing Ollie around, telling him he was doing it wrong at every turn. But I took pity on him, reminding her that Nana was watching.

  The fireflies danced all around us, enchanting Ollie into a stupor. Once we’d caught a few, we went chasing after the others just for the fun of it. His laugh was brighter than the sun. It was so special that my brain never let me forget it.

  We got lost in the magic of the night and the fireflies. It wasn’t until Josey came back to call us that I realized I had been up past my bedtime. As an exception, Mom let me go to Ollie’s house to say goodnight. After all, it was a special night.

  Holding hands, I took the jar of fireflies up to Ollie’s room with him.

  “Here,” I said proudly as I set it on the nightstand. “Now you’ll have friends to help you sleep. But let ‘em go tomorrow alright? They have to go home.”

  Years later, Josey told me that’s the moment when she realized she had made the right decision by moving to Knox Ridge.

  But back then, in the quiet shelter of a new friend’s bedroom that was still littered in half opened boxes and clutter—all I could see was the smile on Ollie’s face.

  A few summers later, the sun had crept past us a few times. We were taller, louder, and more self-assured.

  Josey had tried her hand at a few odd jobs around town until my parents hired her as a waitress. That had been almost two years prior. Lots of things had changed in that time, but some things seemed doomed to stay the same.

  The town was still sleepy from the summer that stretched as far back as April and reached deep into October. The Nelson twins were keeping a bug collection in their closet that got them grounded for most of the summer—again. Britney Jones broke her arm that summer when she tried to help Duncan Foster with his broken knee (don’t ask me how).

  Mr. Woods on the next block bought a new lawnmower that sent him into a gardening war with Ms. Schaffer like nothing the town had seen in years. Nana would have to intervene when those fights got out of hand. People loved her and sometimes feared her too.

  Of course, her meddling included matchmaking. Ms. Schaffer and Mr. Woods would go on to marry three years later, to the surprise of no one. Nana also tried her hand at some new cobbler recipes, for better or worse.

  Uncle Jim, who still spoke to us back then, was delighted to try every flavor she came up with—even the infamous lemon banana pecan crumble. We never spoke of it after that day.

  Paige’s father didn’t come home enough from his life as a truck driver, but he always sent postcards. Her mom worked as a flight attendant, so Paige spent most weekdays being shuttled between her grandmother’s house and Nana’s.

  Our family restaurant was as busy as ever. At least, too busy to keep an eye on us while we played in the backyard behind the Victorian house the restaurant occupied. And my older sister Kelsey was the same as ever.

  “Hey dummies,” Kelsey screamed at Ollie and me one blistering June afternoon the year I turned eight. “Stop running and pay attention to me!”

  Ollie and I had been playing knights of Camelot, as we did back in those days. He rolled his eyes dramatically as he turned around to ask her what she wanted.

  “I’m bored and mom said you have to play with me,” she said.

  “No she didn’t,” I said.

  Mom never forced us to play.

  “Well, she told me to find something fun to do so shut your faces and come here. We’re going to play a game,” Kelsey said.

  “We’re already playing knights,” Ollie claimed. He wasn’t a fan of my sister.

  Kelsey glared at us for a second.

  “Fine,” she said finally. “We can play make-believe like a bunch of babies.”

  “We’re not—”

  “Shut it, Kaitlynn,” she snapped at me. “Or I’ll tell Dad what happened to his rock collection.”

  Olli and I shared a smile. Some were at the bottom of the lake; others were now part of my pet rock collection.

  Kelsey was so bossy and mean back in those days. Nana used to say that you only had to look at someone’s childhood, their rearing and home, to understand why their heart grew into what it is now. It never made sense to me where Kelsey was concerned.

  We had the same rearing, home, and practically the same exact childhood. But I never understood what turned her into such a vindictive brat. I’d like to say that life is filled with people who grow and get over their past transgressions.

  “Come on, frogface!” Kelsey shouted. “I’ll be the Fairy Godmother and you’ll be the ugly princess I turned into a dragon. Oliver can be the knight that slays you.”

  But some people never move past certain stages of their life. Kelsey would grow more beautiful with every year, but humility and kindness were never her strong suits.

  “That’s a stupid game,” Ollie said. “Kit Kat isn’t ugly—”

  My cheek went red any time he said something nice about me.

  “—And she’s too easy to slay,” he said. “We’d be done too fast.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Says you.”

  I chased after him, Kelsey’s game was mostly forgotten. The tall grass brushed against us as we ran toward the sunset—or toward the back fence. Or both.

  Clouds skimmed the periphery of our kingdom, greeting us as we charged to our “destiny” and each other. We tackled and ran after each other across the yard, laughter drowning out Kelsey’s protests.

  There was so much beauty in the world back in those days. Maybe it was just the optimism of youth tricking our eyes into seeing a better world than there was. But with the dirt under our feet, faces in the crisp breeze, and souls locked into the heartbeat of Knox Ridge—anything seemed possible.

  We would stay there, in that loving trance of naivety, long into the twilight of our childhood. We fought and played in an eternal dance around each other. Like our fireflies, we were chasing each other to the horizon.

  “You two are such losers,” Kelsey said that day like she did most afternoons.

  It didn’t matter, though. We hardly ever listened to her in those days.

  Kids were cruel. Looking back, I’m not sure if there was ever a way out of that phenomena. Kids were excited, everything was different, including their emotions.

  So, when kids started to understand what made them different from each other, and how unsettling that could feel, they clung to it for all the wrong reasons.

  Poor kids were bound to get picked on more in Knox Ridge. None of us were rich like the families up in Atlanta. But kids would always notice the difference between the have-somes and the have-nots.

  Every year like clockwork, the middle schoolers had a new trend to follow. Anyone who didn’t fit the mold was interrogated, and then ostracized when it was revealed that they couldn’t afford to buy into that trend.

  Ollie’s crucifixion came with a wave of digital watches that were so gaudy, only a teenage boy would like them. He carpooled with us on a Monday in S
eptember, wading into a sea of screaming boys arguing over who had the best watch.

  Monday, he had his friends and regular lunch table. By Wednesday, most of them were shrugging him off about after school plans. By Friday, he was sitting with Paige and me underneath the bleachers of the track field.

  Paige liked sitting there so she could be outside without burning her “delicate” skin. I preferred outside to the cacophony of pre-teens shouting inside the cafeteria.

  We didn’t ask questions when Ollie found us that afternoon, glaring at his food while he silently dug into it. But things were different. Life has shifted in a blink of an eye.

  Ollie was already treated differently by the kids in town because he had a single mom. This was back in the days where a “failed” marriage still left a dent in anyone’s reputation. Adults and kids didn’t care that Ollie’s dad had died.

  It was all the same to them—Josey should’ve gotten remarried as far as they were concerned. If she didn’t want to be “lonely” or “pathetic,” she should’ve gotten a new husband by now.

  Rumors of his father’s death spread every year or so back then.

  Kids came up with increasingly elaborate and offensive stories of Mr. Tanner’s untimely passing. None of them cared what that did to Ollie. These kids were vain and shortsighted. They didn’t understand what they were doing to him or what they were missing by not being his friend.