Playing with Fire

✨ Chapter Five | Flame

— Carlos —

I was going to save the rally with a fundraiser.

It felt like my last shot to make things right. Chuck came out to help when I told him about it, even though I insisted I wanted to handle this on my own...

It was a fundraiser to save a fundraiser. I was either a genius or completely nuts.

My brilliant, slightly desperate idea wasn't just to cover the funds we needed after losing the sponsor. If I was honest, it was also about getting Chuck to see how much I cared. I wanted him to know I wasn't going to let this thing crash and burn because of me.

I took on the planning myself and barely slept for two days.

I threw myself into organizing, coordinating, and begging for donations like my life depended on it. This wasn't just about the money anymore. It was about showing Chuck I wasn't a complete mess—that I could actually make something good happen when I put my mind to it.

If I could pull this off, maybe he'd see how hard I was trying. I really wanted him to see that. The last thing I needed was to lose his respect... assuming I ever had it in the first place.

Chuck had already apologized for how he reacted when we lost the sponsor. I knew he didn't blame me anymore, but I still felt responsible. I needed redemption.

The community center buzzed as people started arriving, and I felt this weird mix of relief and hope.

Local shops donated stuff for the auction, we had a silent auction going, and things were actually coming together.

I glanced over at Chuck, who was fussing with last-minute details at the silent auction tables. He was probably triple-checking everything, even though I'd told him a million times I wanted to handle it all myself... but he still wouldn't let me.

My mind drifted back to when we first met.

Chuck had royally screwed up with Phoenix Cycles. Like, majorly.

It caused a ton of drama and an absolute mess. But people forgave him. Not because he was "the good guy" everyone knew or because he'd buttered them up, but because he owned his mistake.

After trying to hide from it, Chuck took it head-on and dealt with the fallout. He literally paid for it and kept pushing forward. He didn't just get through it; he came out stronger.

Watching him, I realized maybe that's why I was doing this, to fix my mistake. If Chuck could bounce back from all that, I could find a way to deal with our latest disaster, too.

Chuck was a symbol of hope for me. He showed me that no matter how bad things get, you have to face them and keep moving, no matter whose fault it is. His whole "take the hits and keep going" thing was inspiring in a way I hadn't expected.

I wasn't sure if he ever respected me, but I really hoped he had at some point—because I sure as hell respected him.

I watched Chuck chat with people, all easy smiles and genuine conversation. It was a side of him that went way deeper than his usual tough-guy act.

The community center started filling up with folks ready to participate in the auction, so I wandered over to Chuck once his guests walked away. I nudged him with my elbow, holding a tray of snacks.

"Yo, Chuck, try these," I said, offering him some mini sandwiches I'd thrown together.

He took a bite, his eyebrows shooting up like he was genuinely impressed. "Damn... okay, these are pretty good."

"I'm starting to think that's your highest level of a compliment, man. I should put it on my business card," I joked. "Carlos Garcia, chef and plant enthusiast: pretty good."