Page 69 of Bone Dust

A pained expression tightens her face, and she groans.

“Cora said she ran into the kitchen the minute she smelled something. The smell was pungent and burned her nose. She was about to get Gigi and run out, then call the Fire Department, but Gigi ran past her to get a baby doll she left on the chair. By then, the smoke was thicker. Cora grabbed her and the doll but slapped a dishtowel over Gigi’s nose and mouth. The neighbor behind her was taking out his trash and saw the blaze. He called the Fire Department, then ran to Gigi and Cora. He walked them across the street to another neighbor’s porch. The fire trucks were ahead of us, but not by much. That’s why we couldn’t find them right away. Too much chaos.”

Savi tosses a look to the ceiling. Her body stiffens as she shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight.”

“Don’t do that, Savi. You can’t play that game with yourself.”

Still gazing off into the distance, sadness and guilt corrupt her face. “I shouldn’t have. I rarely leave her except for work.”

“Then, you deserve a little time to yourself, don’t you think? It was an accident. That heater and Gigi are at Cora’s almost every day. It could have happened anytime.”

Her gaze lowers to me. “Well, that’s fodder for my anxiety.” Sarcasm kicks the comment as surely as the thought kicked her ass.

“Sorry. It’s the truth,” I say as a matter of fact.

Her gaze darkens and intensifies. “I could have lost her, Ian. I could have lost them both.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Savannah

“B

ut you didn’t. That’s all that matters.” Ian leans forward and takes my hand in his and pats the back of it. “C’mon. Let’s get something to drink. I saw some vending machines down the hall.”

Vending machines.

Inside I snicker. That’s where all of this started; me and Ian. One crazy concert, two drunk people, and a night that would change both our lives.

I’ve convinced myself that keeping Gigi’s parentage a secret was a badge of honor for me.

Single mom.

Don’t need anyone.

I can do this myself.

Those were the justifying statements with which I lied to myself. The truth is that keeping the identity of Gigi’s father a secret was because I was afraid. I could tell myself another lie and say that I didn’t know without a DNA test who her dad was, but that thought was laid to rest the moment I saw them together. They look too much alike and I know Sam saw it the night of the spaghetti incident—well, the first spaghetti incident.

I shouldn’t let it but that thought tickles me inside. I feel an instant pang of guilt because this is not the time for amusement. Truth is Gigi is as much like me with her bit of temper, as she is like Ian in her looks. If Ian hadn’t arrived when he did that night, Sam would have called me out on it. The only reason he didn’t was because he wanted a private interrogation. That’s when Ian showed up.

One good thing came out of that night with Ian. The best thing.

Though I’ve kept her all to myself, maybe I’ve done an injustice. Knowing now what happened to Ian that night, it makes what I’m about to do easier. Both of us had a terrible thing happen at a nearly identical time. While I realize that Gigi was my saving grace, Ian had no such sweet miracle to help him heal. He’s done it alone. I need to change that.

“Ian, I need to tell you something.”

How do I say words that will alter him forever?

He says nothing until we’re standing in front of the machines.

“I’m listening. What do you want? Soda? Water?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say dismissively. There are a few tables with chairs. A myriad of scenarios jumble through my thoughts like a traveling carnival. Like acrobats, they roll and tumble, each one trying to take center stage. But nothing about this is funny, and I struggle to compose my thoughts.

The canteen area is small and the weight of what I’m about to do suffocates me. As I walk over to a small table and take a seat, my knees are shaking. Ian is close behind me. He slips his leg over the chair directly across from me, sits, and pops the top of two soda cans. He slides one across the table to me.

“Drink it. The caffeine will help your headache.” He grins and butterflies flutter inside me. “So, what do you want to tell me?”

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